Ian stuck his head through the door.
He gave her a smile that raised her heartbeat. Why did he have this effect on her? She had avoided him since yesterday—no small task when they were living under the same roof—because she feared seeing him would weaken her resolve.
“May I come in?”
When she failed to summon an answer, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Her cheeks flamed hot as she remembered her letter. She felt a pang of guilt for not telling him she was seeking royal assistance to annul their marriage—and stifled it.
“I promise, I won’t shout at ye. And I won’t touch ye…” Ian’s voice trailed off as his gaze slid over her, as if he were remembering every part of her he’d had his hands on two nights before. “… unless ye want me to.”
She could not get enough air. With his dark hair falling over one eye and the shadow of beard over his strong jaw, Ian looked rough and dangerously handsome.
He drew his brows together. “I wouldn’t hurt ye. Surely ye know that?”
He would. He already had.
Ian’s gaze drifted around the room. “You’ve made it nice in here.” He sniffed and the corners of his mouth tipped up. “Smells much better than when I slept here as a lad. It used to smell of dogs and horses—and me, I suppose.”
She remembered waking to the smell of him when he crawled into bed with her. The scent had lingered faintly in her bed, giving her a restless night.
She swallowed as Ian’s gaze fell on the bed and remained there for a long moment.
“I came to ask ye about the accounts ye showed me,” he said, bringing his gaze back to her.
How did a man get such blue eyes?
“I’m sure my da didn’t record such things, though perhaps one of the men working for him did,” Ian said. “So, you’ll have to teach me.”
She raised her eyebrows, since he had paid no attention the first time she tried to show him.
He lifted the stool that was against the wall with one hand, set it next to her, and sat down in one easy motion. The man moved as she imagined a lion would, all grace and rippling muscle.
She jumped when he scooted his stool closer.
As he reached across her for the pile of parchments, his arm and shoulder pressed against hers, sending heat radiating through her body. “Now let’s have a look at these.”
She awoke from her daze and grabbed the stack away from him.
“These are in order!” she said, her voice coming out high and squeaky.
He gave her an amused look, blue eyes sparkling, and raised an eyebrow.
To cover her embarrassment, she began explaining her method of keeping track of the farm’s livestock. “Ye see, I mark all the new calves here—”
He touched her hand, and the words dried in her mouth.
“Ye were always better at figures than me, Sìl.”
“Only because ye lack patience.” She attempted a severe look, though, despite herself, her heart swelled with the compliment.
“Impatience is a failing of mine.” Ian gave her a slow smile as he dragged his finger up her forearm. “A failing I’m trying verra hard to cure.”
She swallowed. “I know what ye are trying to do.”
“Do ye now?” He brushed a stray curl from her cheek, sending a shiver all the way to her fingertips and toes.
“You’re trying to seduce me.”
“We should each do what we’re good at,” he said, his eyes glimmering. Without shifting his gaze from her face, he waved his hand toward the parchments. “You’re good with figures, so ye should keep doing that.”