“It’s about time fer bed. Now tell me,” he says, his eyes flickering with uncertainty in the dim light, “how long have you two been wed?”
“Wed?” I echo, my cheeks burning up. Cal shoots me a look that screams:
Just go with it.
Chapter Twenty
“Och, yes,”Cal plays along, slinging an arm around me a little too tightly. “‘Tis madly in love we are.”
“Head over heels, completely, utterly smitten,” I throw out there, snuggling into him with a fake giggle. Heat rushes to my face, and I silently thank the dim lighting for its discretion.
“Can’t imagine myself with anyone else,” Callum chimes in, his voice quivering like he’s holding back laughter. But then, his eyes meet mine, and there’s this brief flicker of authenticity.
“Me neither,” I confess in barely a whisper, so faint that I’m not sure he catches it. I quickly bury my face in his chest, feigning a swoon. If he senses my heart racing like a runaway horse, he keeps it to himself.
“How long have ye been handfasted?” Alistair presses.
“Ah, too mesmerized by her green eyes to recall,” Cal fires back promptly, muttering something about us being fresh off the honeymoon phase.
Alistair offers a small nod. He guides us past the guest rooms on the second floor to a small attic room shadowed in darkness. It features a short, low-to-the-ground bed.
The realization strikes us simultaneously—one bed.
One. Single. Narrow and definitely not king-sized bed for both of us.
As I follow Cal inside, an uncomfortable laugh slips out of me. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” My attempt at humor falls completely flat when my voice wobbles.
“Sleep well,” Alistair responds with a wink.
The bedroom door closes behind him with an ominous click that feels oddly similar to a starter pistol triggering some weird race neither Cal nor I signed up for.
He looks at me from across the room, lingering on me longer than necessary. Then he shrugs nonchalantly and flashes me an uneven grin that screams charm but lacks sincerity.
“No worries, Mills,” he says like we’re talking about tomorrow’s forecast and not the elephant in the room. “I’ve slept on a sailboat many times.”
His courage is commendable but falls flat when weboth take our surroundings seriously. It’s a cozy room with an angled roof, rough stone walls, one round window, and a table decorated with candles, oil lamps, dried heather, and lavender. It’s so minuscule that there’s barely enough space for one person to stretch out without getting uncomfortably chummy with the vintage furniture.
“So, we’re bunking together,” he concedes, a teasing half-smirk playing on his lips that sends my pulse skyrocketing and my stomach somersaulting. He’s coaxing rather than commanding, more of a playful nudge than a push.
“Splitting the bed,” I manage to squeak out, my words punctuated with a nervous giggle as I trace an invisible boundary down the center of the tiny straw-filled mattress. “And keep it PG-13.”
Cal lifts his hands in surrender, an easy grin on his lips.
“Scout’s honor,” he teases, his tone light yet laced with an undercurrent of frustration.
A livewire crackles between us as we roll back the patchwork quilt and stake our claims on our respective territories. Every shift of his muscle, every breath he takes feels amplified, wrapping around me like an electric blanket that I can’t shrug off.
His athletic figure brushes against my backside, sending waves of warmth through me and stirring up feelings that threaten to bulldoze through my self-restraint.
Well, I can forget about getting a wink of sleep tonight. My mind races as I try to ignore how solid he feels against me and how he’s lying oh-so-freaking close. For the love of not jumping Cal’s beautiful bones right here and now, I need a distraction!
I start chanting in my head:
‘I don’t need this. Too complicated. Way too complicated! Don’t need this.’
But the words barely quell the scorching desire between my thighs. Maybe it’s nothing. Perhaps I’m the only one feeling it?
Yet, even as I downplay it, Cal’s heat is practically tangible. Something is sizzling—no, vibrating—in the space between us. He rolls onto his back at the same time as me, and our eyes lock. I glimpse something in his gaze—a flicker of frustration mirroring my own.
