Willow smirked. “Ye are the laird. I am at yer command.”
“Och!” He exclaimed, his face lighting up with a mixture of indignance and humor. “If only that were the case, lass. Ye would have given me the answers I sought. Isnae it so?”
Swallowing down whatever was trying to take over her, Willow nodded. “Hmm, perhaps so. However, there is still time before the exchange, I imagine. Ye could be so bold as to try again. I have nay issue picturin' ye as the kind to nae give up so easily.”
Keegan’s stare darkened, and Willow chewed on her lip. Her mouth had run away with her again, and it was going to get her into so much trouble. But it was as if she had been bespelled or was far more pished up the river than she was in reality. She could not keep herself from spilling the teasing words across the table.
Tipping his head down, Keegan held his mug to his lips, and she could not keep herself from staring directly at them. His mouth tilted in a subtle smile, and in a voice that was nearly too low to perceive, the laird whispered across the air to her.
“Ye would be correct about that, lass. Still, ye should be careful, or I might have a mind to think that was precisely what ye wanted.”
A shiver ran down her spine, and Willow abruptly stood from the table. Curtseying to Keegan, she sucked in a breath through her nose and took care to let it out slowly.
“Thank ye for the dinner, Laird Brahanne. I believe it is best if I return to me chamber now. Good evening.”
She did not wait for his response, an unwise thing to do in most circumstances. But she could not be bothered to care. It was enough to have allowed herself to act in such a manner. The fact that the laird was aware of it and had drawn attention to her own potential want for the situation was more than Willow could handle.
Marching to the doors of the Great Hall, Willow met Rodrick there and asked him to escort her back to her room. He gaped at her for a moment, having clearly been watching her exchange with the laird. The man-at-arms glanced over her shoulder at him, and Willow would not look back.
Shewould notlook back.
“Of course, me lady. Right this way.”
When Rodrick gestured forward, Willow followed him right at his heels, chomping at the bit to get into a private space. Asmuch as she should have studied the halls more for her potential escape, Willow was far too distracted by the whirling thoughts in her head. She needed to get behind those closed doors—now.
Closed up in her room, borrowed though it may be, Willow felt a touch more at ease. She was aware that Rodrick stood guard outside, but at least she had this small space to be on her own. And the first order of business was doing something about her overheated skin.
A flush still claimed Willow’s cheeks, and she walked to the wash basin to splash her face. The water remaining in the bowl was frigid, and Willow hoped that it would be enough to relieve her of this persistent warmth.
It was not.
Despite the many times she coated her skin in cold water, Amelia was still ready to set her very clothes ablaze. Perhaps it would behoove her to take them off? It was likely one of the only remaining things left that could help.
“So be it then,” Willow mumbled to herself.
Starting first with the boots she still wore, chosen for her day of riding to the MacCallister fortress, Willow pulled the items free and set them to the side. The floor was cold beneath her feet, soshe climbed up into the bed. She didn’t slip beneath the covers but was still surprised by their softness.
It appeared that the laird spared no expense even in guest chambers, which was still quite a shock that she was using. Damon had a point when he had assumed she would be staying in the dungeon.
The thought made Willow’s chest ache, and she felt a terrible regret for the position Damon found himself in. He was so distraught after his sister’s capture, and it could not be good for him to remain so wound up—like a clock spring that might snap.
God, how must Keegan be feeling? I can understand why he felt compelled to take me.
The thoughts of the laird did nothing to dissuade the heat from racking through her, so Willow went for the ties at the front of her dress and began to steadily unfasten them. The loosed stays allowed her to breathe better, and Willow worked on ridding herself of them entirely before moving on to the tie at the back of her skirt.
It did not take long for her to strip down to her shift, and Willow at last sucked in a gulp of fresh air. The cool air sat on her skin, coating her like a blanket, and she sighed.
Och, that is much better.
Willow looked down at the bed where she sat. It was comfortable, and the covers were embroidered with gold thread over a burgundy backdrop. It was not quite the hour that she would usually sleep, but to say that she had had an eventful few days was putting it mildly.
Standing, Willow made sure that the fire would still last her a little while into the evening and took the candle on the small table provided to bed. Setting it on the nightstand, she climbed back into the bed and let out a long exhale, tiredness washing over her.
She crawled up toward the pillows, blowing out the candle and lifting up the blankets to settle herself beneath them. They were freezing at first, but over time, they began to warm with the heat of her body.
Sleep. Sleep is the best thing for ye, Willow. Get yer rest and deal with the laird in the morning.
She closed her eyes, rolling onto her side in the large bed. It was a bit grander than hers at home, and Willow reminded herself that she ought not to compare the two places so much. There was much to be found in Castle Brahanne that put her usual residence to shame, particularly the atmosphere and company.