A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader TXT) 📕

lips there. Would he embrace her, she wondered? What would itfeel like to be held in those strong arms? To have that massivebody surround hers?

Did she really want to know?

Did she dare deny it?

“Sorcha,” he whispered huskily.

She looked up to find his head bent, hislips just inches away. He was warm, oh so warm. Life radiated fromhim until she was engulfed in it. Claire breathed in deeply,swaying unconsciously toward him as if he were a magnet, her chestalmost touching his. Hugh bent his head, his cheek inches fromhers. “Release me from my vow, lass.” She could feel his breathbrush against her neck and shivered.

How could she release him when she couldn’trelease herself? Regretfully, Claire stepped away with a long sighthat was echoed by Hugh’s and changed the subject with forcedgaiety. “Since your uncle was an earl, I suppose that you alwayshad servants to wash dishes for you, huh? Why don’t you just let medo these and you can take our luggage upstairs?”

“I am capable of assisting,” he said, hishand covering hers as she reached to turn on the water. His roughhand set her skin tingling instantly, and Claire jerked away fromhis touch. “Sorcha, I …”

“No touching, Hugh, remember?” shewhispered, almost inaudibly.

“Aye. How could I forget?” His voice wastight, disappointed in her, but perhaps no more disappointed thanshe was in herself. “Where should I take the bags?”

Claire gave him brief directions to two ofthe guestrooms above that her family had used before, addingbrightly, “I’m sure your uncle would have a fit if I let his nephewdo the dishes anyway.”

“Nae at all,” Hugh said, his suddenlyarrogant voice making Claire look up curiously. “I am the Duke ofRoss and I hae always done as I bluidy well please.”

Stunned, Claire could do nothing but turnand stalk angrily away. A duke? Good Lord, could it get anyworse?

Chapter 15

The third day offreedom

Daylight streaming in through the huge plateglass windows that served as the walls of Robert Mitchell’swaterfront home woke Claire early the next morning, and she rolledover to look at the bedside clock. With a sigh, she flopped ontoher back, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

The windows had been too dark the nightbefore for her to appreciate the views the house offered, andClaire did that now as she climbed out of bed, sighing over thebeauty of the sound. The day was overcast—no surprise there—but itwasn’t raining. The sun was even bravely trying to pierce thecloudy barrier that separated them. Dressing, Claire left the guestroom she had assigned herself and peeked into the one she had givenHugh, only to find him gone and the bed neatly made.

She wouldn’t blame him if he left her now.And perhaps it would be better for them both if he did. Clearlythere was a mutual physical attraction between them, but under thecircumstances it would be foolish—insane, even!—to throw caution tothe wind and … well, let nature take its course. It wasn’tsomething she wanted, Claire told herself firmly. She had toldherself she wouldn’t second-guess her decision, but it was fear forher personal wellbeing that prompted her to do so now. It was thefear of something much deeper. Something infinitely moredangerous.

Something that had kept her tossing andturning all night.

On top of that, he was aduke. To borrow an exclamation from Hugh, a bloody duke. No doubt he was used tobowing, scraping, and complete obedience. If he thought to expectas much from her, Claire knew she was the wrong girl for him, handsdown.

So, he would just have to accept that theirswas purely a business relationship. Her business was to keep himsafe and then get on with her life. Period.

Going downstairs, Claire called his name butreceived no response. She moved into the kitchen. Her voice ranghollowly in the empty house. The kitchen looked untouched.

A frown furrowing her brow, Claire took theempty pot from a small countertop coffee maker and went to the sinkto fill it. Through the window, she could see Hugh sitting on alarge driftwood log near the shoreline. While the pot filled,Claire watched him as he sat motionless, staring out at thewater.

Turning away, she filled the coffee maker,setting the filter in place and measuring out the coffee, all thewhile mentally scolding herself, trying to talk herself out ofdoing what she knew she was going to do. Trying to remember that itwas all just business.

With a sigh, Claire knew she was doomed tofailure. Her resolution was undone within minutes of itsconception.

Because underneath all of his bravado andteasing, Hugh was hurting. She could see the signs in his bodyposture as easily as she had heard them in his words on the ferrythe previous night. Under all the swagger he had put on, under allthe arrogance, he was just frightened … as much as he hated toconfess such a thing. He might hide it beneath humor, but it wasthere and Claire’s heart ached for him. That pain was what hadsoftened her to him in the first place. She knew what it was liketo be suddenly alone and scared. At least she had had her parentsto run to, someone to find some comfort in if she needed it. Whodid Hugh have? Just her. And every fiber in her being was urgingher to give solace where she could.

It was gray and dismal, Hugh thought as hestared out over the waters. The desolate beach was strewn withdriftwood and rock, one thrown onto the sand by the rough waters,another smoothed flat as a result of the same. The water of thisPuget Sound was vast and turbulent, with shades of blue turning togray as the waves peaked and dropped. In the distance, he could seethe dark shadow of land at the horizon and closer another band ofland jutted into view. The whole of it was bathed in ruggedbeauty.

It wasn’t home but it wasa good imitation. Just sitting there staring out over the waters asthe sun had risen over them had put a balm on the aggravation ofanother sleepless night. Another sleepless night wondering what hewould do. What he coulddo. So far, his only thought had been to assurehis