Iona had not left.
For a long moment, he simply watched her. The early light crept through the narrow window, casting a faint glow across her features. Her hair lay loose about her shoulders, a dark spill against the linens, and one of her hands rested lightly against him as though she had reached for him even in her sleep.
I should rise.There were matters that required his attention. There were men to speak with, lands to oversee, and a council that would expect him before long. Yet none of it seemed to carry weight enough to draw him away.
Instead, his hand lifted of its own accord. His fingers traced slowly along her arm, from shoulder to wrist, then back again, as though acquainting himself with something newly discovered. He let his thumb brush lightly over her skin, testing the softness of it, watching for the slightest shift in her expression.
When she did not stir, he allowed himself a little more boldness, his hand moving upward to her shoulder, then to the line of her neck.
“Ye will make a poor laird of me,” he murmured quietly, though there was no true complaint in it.
His hand stilled for a moment at her throat before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear. Another followed along her jaw, unhurried, as though he had nowhere else to be and no better task to attend.
That seemed to be enough to wake her.
Iona stirred against him, her breath catching faintly as her eyes opened, unfocused at first before settling upon him. The realization of their closeness came swiftly, and with it, the bloom of color across her cheeks.
“Ye are awake,” he said, a faint note of satisfaction threading through his voice.
“I am now,” she replied, her voice soft, though the embarrassment in it was plain.
He watched as she seemed to gather herself, as though she might pull away, but she did not. Instead, she remained where she was, though her gaze flickered briefly as if uncertain where to rest.
“That is a curious look for a woman who chose to remain,” he observed.
Her eyes returned to his at once. “I didnae…,” she said sleepily, though there was no real force behind it. “I fell asleep.”
“Aye,” he said, his hand moving again, this time brushing lightly along her cheek. “And ye didnae flee when ye woke in the night?”
Her lips parted as though to answer, but no words came at once. The color in her cheeks deepened, though she did not turn away from him.
“I suppose I didnae,” she admitted at last.
He studied her for a moment, something quieter settling beneath the lightness of the exchange. There had been other mornings. Other times. And each had ended the same way, with absence where he had expected presence.
Not this time.
“Ye left me once,” he said, his tone shifting just enough to draw her attention fully. “With less coin than I had begun the evening with.”
Her eyes widened for a brief instant before a soft laugh escaped her, the sound warm and unguarded in a way that pleased him more than it should have.
“I told ye I would repay ye,” she said.
“Aye, that ye did.”
“And I still intend to,” she added, lifting her chin slightly as though to reinforce the point.
His mouth curved at that, the expression slow and deliberate as he regarded her.
“I wonder how ye mean to settle such a debt,” he said.
Her gaze faltered for a moment, then steadied again, though the faintest hint of uncertainty lingered there.
“I shall find a way,” she replied. “Have faith.”
He let out a quiet breath, something close to a laugh, though softer.
“Iona,” he said, her name low and thoughtful. “Ye have given me far more than any coin could measure.”