“Is something wrong with your room?” He began to peel.
“Besides the fact you felt you needed to nail the windows shut?”
His jaws bulged at the sides—a sure sign he was grinding his teeth. “To say you sleep heavily is an understatement. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I know, I know,” she said more gently as she took the section he offered her and chewed thoughtfully. MacCarrick took a roll from her plate, pulling a piece of it for himself and some apart for her. “It’s just difficult to be reminded of how much danger there is.”
Hugh approached, frowning at them. Only when she saw Hugh studying them did she realize how the scene looked. MacCarrick had been hand-feeding her, and they’d been eating from the same plate without even noticing. MacCarrick appeared uncomfortable, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Court, if you need to catch up on some sleep, I’ll be here all day,” Hugh offered. “I’ll check in on the two of you.”
When he nodded in response and Hugh exited the room, MacCarrick turned to her. As his gaze flickered over her face, his irritated expression eased. “Lass, I think you’re the one who could use a nap.”
“I’m not tired in the least,” she said, then betrayed her assertion by yawning. She thought she saw a hint of a grin as he took her hand to lead her into the library. He scanned the shelves and chose a book on Scottish history for her. “If you read this”—he held up the tome—“on that settee”—he pointed out a plush crimson settee—“you’re guaranteed to be asleep within twenty minutes.”
“Why is that?”
“The book is…detailed, to say the least, and that settee was the death of my studies often enough.”
She took the heavy book from him with a pained smile—where was a good gothic novel when you needed one?—and sat where he directed, opening it without enthusiasm….
She was startled when Hugh glanced inside—over an hour had passed.
Hugh’s gaze fell on MacCarrick, who sat across from her on a sofa. With his eyes closed, his body motionless, and an arm stretched along the sofa back, MacCarrick looked as if he’d merely closed his eyes for a moment, but apparently he was sleeping, because Hugh looked satisfied and shut the door quietly.
As soon as Hugh was gone and with book in hand, Annalía crossed the room to kneel on the sofa beside MacCarrick. She studied his face and sighed, marveling that she’d ever considered him anything other than remarkably handsome. When the urge to feather her fingers over his lips grew overwhelming, she took up her book once more and sat under his outstretched arm, with her back nestled against his side. She briefly closed her eyes, luxuriating in his solid warmth, then turned to the last page she’d read. Her mood grew grave as she mused over what she’d learned so far.
Now that she understood more about what and who MacCarrick was, she felt ashamed of all the things she’d called him—ruthless Scot, brutish Highlander, ill-mannered barbarian…and she could write a page more. She’d insulted him again and again, and yet here she sat, enjoying his warmth and strength—alive only because he’d protected her.
Her face burned when she remembered her taunts and jibes. Andorrans lived in a state of constant peace—Pascal was the first threat since the thirteenth century—but the Scots had not. They would be different. MacCarrick was different from her, and she’d vilified him and his kinsmen for it. No wonder his men had given her amused expressions, as though she were just a silly girl. No wonder MacCarrick had looked as if he wanted to throttle her.
If he hadn’t been a fierce Highlander and a trained mercenary, she’d be dead. How had she thanked him? With insults.
Annalía was just as he’d said, a small-minded Andorran shut off from the world.
She put her hand over her mouth in disgust and turned to curl up with her head against his chest.
She wanted him more than she ever had—had realized she wanted all with him—but she had to wonder if he didn’t want the same from her because of her behavior. It was one thing to desire her physically but another entirely to like her, to respect her.
He was still protecting her, still keeping her safe, for nothing in return—she literally couldn’t give away her virtue to that man—and maybe, maybe, he was doing it because he saw more depth in her than she’d given him reason to—
She heard his heart speed up and thought he’d awakened. He tensed, but after a moment, his body relaxed and his arm descended around her. As he slept once more, his heartbeat returned to slow and steady, lulling her.