“To ensure ye were safe,” he said honestly. “Ye should remember from yer experience four years ago that going into the woods alone can be a dangerous thing.”
“I remember well,” she murmured, looking beyond him as if seeing the day she had been attacked once more.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, and he wondered if she was also remembering the kiss they shared that day. He inhaled a deep breath, the memory of her filling his mind. “Ye tasted like honey,” he said, seeing himself walking onto a path of sin as if from a distance. He could not turn away—not yet. But he would, he vowed. He would turn away before he went too far.
She gasped, making him suspect she knew only too well what he was referring to. “What?”
“That day in the woods when I kissed ye,” he replied, hearing the husky lust in his voice. “Ye tasted of honey.”
“Aye, I would have.” Her voice trembled when she spoke. “I’d snuck some from the kitchen that morning.”
He nodded as his gaze drifted to her hair. “Yer hair felt like the finest silk as it slid through my fingers, and I remember thinking how surprisingly heavy it was. Ye smelled of heather and cinnamon.”
“Alex had made me bake that morning. He wanted me to learn to be a proper lass,” she said, sounding bemused.
Lachlan chuckled. “He failed in that attempt.”
“Aye,” she said with a half smile. “He did.”
“Yer mouth scorched mine in a way I kinnae say I’ve ever experienced,” he added.
“Dunnae say more,” she suddenly demanded.
But his blood raged with the need to tell her all and be done with the memory forever.
“Yer skin was the smoothest I’ve ever felt. And yer upper lip curves downward just a bit. I kinnae see it, but when I kissed ye, I felt it.”
Her gaze flared with unmistakable anger. “Stop.”
Bridgette’s heart pounded so hard she could not catch her breath. Astonishment left her dizzy, but fury sharpened her focus and helped her gain control. Lachlan remembered their kiss! He remembered details that surely only a man who had been greatly affected would remember! Why had he never acted on it? Why had he never told her? She could not ask.
“Ye mustn’t speak of that day ever again,” she said.
He nodded. “I ken it. I had to release the memory by saying it aloud.”
Release it?His words ripped into her. He’d held on to the memory all these years just as she had? Surely not.
“I kinnae explain it,” he said.
Did he sound tortured or was she imagining that? “It was an unusual day,” she offered carefully.
“Aye,” he agreed, relief settling on his face.
“What we shared naturally stayed with us,” she continued, her heart racing.
His brows drew up sharply as if in protest, but he nodded as determination set his jaw. “Aye. I’m sorry I made mention of it,” he offered.
Her shoulders sagged with his words—or lack thereof, truly—and shame at how she had longed to hear him confirm his desire for her, heated her cheeks.
A frown came to his face, and he reached out, his fingers brushing her arm.
She scrambled back, a muffled cry lodged in her throat. His lips parted, and he stilled. She could not let him touch her again. She feared that if he did, she would lose the tenuous control she clung to and blurt her great desire for him.
“I believe it’s likely best if ye leave the watching over me to Graham from here forward,” she said, trying to instill coolness in her tone.
“Aye,” Lachlan said. His voice was low and filled with what sounded like resignation. “Graham has held affection for ye for a long time.”
Bridgette frowned. “A long time?” She’d honestly thought he had developed his feelings only recently, since she came with Marion to stay at their home.
