Keiran’s teeth had been gritted since he’d left the estate. First because Ainsley was irritating the hell out of him with her incessant chatter. And Agnes, she was tempting him beyond what a man could take. Her lovely curves were pressed against him as her arms were threaded around his neck. And damn it all to hell if she wasn’t so sweet and understanding that it made a man ache.

He could lose himself in her. He wondered, for a moment, what he’d return as if he did. Would it be better? Somehow, he had a feeling it would. The real question was, what would it do to her? Sweet innocent Agnes did not deserve to know how deep the world could cut. He knew he’d hurt her but it was nothing compared to the darkness he held inside.

As her delightful scent wrapped around him, he was losing his ability to think clearly. To reason out all the carefully constructed reasons why he should stay away from her.

Iverness Estate loomed ahead of them, and Keiran breathed a sigh of relief. If Agnes were on this horse any longer, he’d likely keep riding. Take her with him to his own home and straight to his bed.

He felt his manhood twitch. He’d been trying to keep the thoughts at bay, but her curves were pressing into him in the most delightful way. He looked down at her and knew she felt it too, as her eyes rounded.

She didn’t, however, shy away as he’d expected she might. Instead, he felt her undulate her hips against him. He grew harder and his breath seized in his chest. Ainsley had started prattling again, though he barely noticed now.

He tightened his hand on Agnes’s hip. He’d meant to hold her still, but instead pressed her closer. She made the tiniest sound of enjoyment, somewhere between a coo and a mewl. That small sound set him to blaze.

“Agnes,” he gasped roughly, keeping his voice quiet.

She moved again, her hips swirling, pressing, grinding her softness into his hardness. She might be an innocent, but she was no prude. Keiran had the sudden thought that he’d give years of his life to lie with her.

It was a damn good thing he hadn’t known this when they’d been at the inn together. They’d be married now for sure.

They could be married tonight.

He was losing his mind. The press of her hips was making him near mad, and he kicked his horse a little faster, now sure he would bypass Iverness and head straight to Lockeheart, his home.

“There ye are,” Ewan called from the barn.

Bloody hell and damnation, Keiran cursed to himself as Agnes froze on his lap. A look of absolute horror crossing her face.

“We’ll discuss this later,” he managed to mutter before Ewan began racing toward them.

“Agnes’s mare came back without her, we were worried.” Ewan’s voice grew louder with each word.

As Keiran quickly explained, Agnes practically hid her face in his shirt. She was surely embarrassed. And after he doused himself in icy water, he’d tell her why she didn’t need to be.

But right now, if he tried to talk to her, they’d end up galloping off into the sunset.

Ewan helped her down and, even knowing that Ewan was in love with her cousin, he felt a stab of jealousy as he watched Ewan grab her waist, her delicate hands resting on his shoulders.

Taking several deep breaths, he swung himself off the horse as well and then stepped next to Agnes.

He only realized he was glaring when Ewan’s eyebrows rose up. Without meaning to, he’d placed his hand on Agnes’s back. For a moment, he considered dropping it, but that seemed far worse, like he was admitting he’d done something wrong. And besides, he liked touching her.

“How was yer outing in the village?” Ewan asked, giving a benign, knowing smile. Ewan was his best friend, but Keiran would have liked to wipe that smile off his lips.

Ainsley made a face at both of them, her irritation apparent. Ainsley was a woman who liked to be the center of attention. He doubted she had any real feeling for him, she simply wanted to be noticed. While, he didn’t hold it against her, he wasn’t a man to indulge such needs, even if Agnes wasn’t completely distracting him. “It was fine. I thought the village would be bigger.” Then she flounced off toward the house.

“I’ve got to return for a few things they purchased,” Keiran replied without really answering the question Ewan had asked. He couldn’t talk about it. “May I use yer carriage?”

“Of course,” Ewan answered sounding amused. He likely thought it funny that Keiran was now attending ladies’ needs. Let him laugh. He was only doing it for Agnes. It was getting harder to deny her anything. “What did they buy?”

Keiran couldn’t very well tell him, so he continued to glare at his friend.

Agnes cleared her throat. “I bought a new trunk. Mine has become terribly worn form the trip. Keiran is going to retrieve for me.” Keiran raised his brow as he looked over at her. She was a terrible liar. Her voice shook as she said the words.

Ewan’s quizzical look disappeared, and despite Agnes’s poor attempt at covering her tracks, he seemed to accept it. “Of course. Why didn’t ye just say so?” he asked Keiran, slapping him on the back. “I’ll have them bring it ’round.”

Ewan turned to inform the groom that he needed the carriage, leaving Agnes and Keiran alone.

“Ye didn’t have to give him an explanation, lass.” Keiran grumped as soon as Ewan was gone.

She shrugged. “It seemed easier.”

He couldn’t deny her logic. In fact, lots of things seemed easier with Agnes there.

He leaned down to deliver his next words softly for her ears alone. “I’ll put the cradle in the barn so ye can work on it?”

“Perfect.” She glanced up at him to give him a smile of gratitude. “Thank you.”

But with her face tipped up to him like that and his hand on her back, he wanted to do far more than return her smile. He wanted to touch his lips to hers again. He wanted to lay her in the softly undulating grass and then slide her skirt up her legs….

Her scent had been curled around him the entire ride back from the village. So inviting, so much like the home he hadn’t had in years.

He allowed his head to drift toward her, but rather than kiss her, he rested his forehead against hers. “Ye’re welcome.”

A throat cleared to his right. “Agnes, would you like me to escort ye back to the house?” Ewan had that grin again. Like he knew exactly what was happening.

“Yes, please,” she said as she slipped out of Keiran’s grasp.

That feeling returned. The one where he wanted to carry her away and keep her all for himself. “Damnation,” he muttered, but Ewan heard him.

With a wink, the bloody arse put his hand at the small of Agnes’s back as he escorted her to the house.

* * *

Agnes took a deep breath trying clear her mind. Keiran’s proximity all afternoon had her vibrating with a delicious tension. She looked back to see Keiran glaring at them. “I think I just upset Keiran, but I’m not rightly sure how.”

Ewan chuckled patting her back. “Not to worry, lass. It’s me he’s upset with. And I intend to poke him a bit more before I’m done.”

“Poke him about what?” she asked. He couldn’t think that Keiran was jealous? She remembered his hand on her back and the way he’d glared at Ewan. If it were another man, she might think he was, but not Keiran. Mostly because he was always pushing her away.

Ewan seemed to grow more amused. “It will all become clear in time.”

She wanted to ask more about Keiran and what his feelings really were, but before she could, Ewan changed the subject.

“Did I tell ye that I’m giving Clarissa’s parents a plot of land to build a house.” He winked at her. “It was Clarissa’s idea. With her in Scotland, they want to spend more time here. Why not give them a place of their own?”

“It’s a marvelous idea.” Agnes was so glad for her cousin. Clarissa had found a wonderful husband who cared deeply for her happiness and would always care for her. A small twinge made her grimace. She hoped she could find the same.

But rather than think of husbands, she could only see Keiran. He’d kissed her, pressed his forehead to hers, held her close. Then there was the exchange on the back of the horse. Their touch had been…exciting. Did he want to court her? He’d clearly stated that he wouldn’t, yet his touch spoke of something else.

What kind of husband would he be? The one who offered to return and pick up the cradle or the man who refused to sleep in the common room, near ruining her reputation? Though his explanation seemed reasonable enough. She sighed to herself. He was so confusing.

She spent the rest of the afternoon with Clarissa, reading to her, rubbing her back, telling her about her day. She left out many of the details, like the way Keiran had touched her. She didn’t know why, other than she wanted to sort things out in her own mind before she talked to someone else. Her feelings for Keiran were shifting, and she didn’t completely understand why. As she rubbed Clarissa’s back, she fell silent, trying to find clarity. Before long, her cousin fell asleep.

Agnes slipped out of the room to prepare herself for dinner.

She would have denied it if anyone asked, but she took extra care with her appearance. Her dinner dress was a lovely shade of blue that matched her eyes, and she pinned her hair loosely back, allowing a great deal of it to cascade down her over her shoulder.

The candlelight lent a soft glow to the dining room as Agnes entered.

Clarissa had managed to make it downstairs for the meal as well, and she beamed at Agnes, her gaze giving Agnes a sweep. Agnes knew Clarissa had noted the extra care she’d taken to look nice.

“Agnes, ye look lovely,” Ewan called, leaving his wife’s side to draw her into the room.

Agnes blushed, seeking out Keiran with her gaze, but he didn’t look at her as he leaned against the fireplace mantel, his eyes cast down at the flames.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her mother entered the room just behind her, Aunt Rhona and Ainsley on her heels.

Keiran barely acknowledged their presence, his gaze flicking to them for barely a second as he mumbled, “Good evening.”

Agnes felt her skin prickle in irritation. How rude. The moment she thought he might actually be a gentleman, he seemed to forget his manners entirely. “How was your trip back to the village?” Agnes asked, assessing him, her own irritation rising.

* * *

Kerain allowed himself to look at her then, as she directly asked him a question. Bloody hell, she looked lovely. The candlelight danced off her skin, giving it a glow that made him ache with longing. Actually, he’d been aching all day; it grew more acute each time he saw her. “Fine,” he rasped out, his voice harsher than he’d intended.

The ride back to the village had been easy enough, but once he’d collected the cradle, the ride back to Iverness had been damn painful.

The young man had been gone from the house but his sister, as he’d learned she was, had just apologized over and over for his behavior. Said that the strain of supporting them was taking its toll. He’d nodded politely but didn’t know what else to say.

When he’d finally been able to extricate himself, he’d had to set the cradle on the floor, between the seats, his legs splayed out on either side. As if that weren’t uncomfortable enough, every time he looked down into the thing, all he could picture was Agnes’s gentle hand running along its wood. He imagined the soft look on her face as she’d assessed it, then his mind had really begun to wander.

He’d seen her in his bed looking equally soft, but so much more wanton. He’d pictured her snuggled close against his side, the growing of her belly, and finally, he’d seen a beautiful little baby with blond hair and blue eyes staring up at him. Agnes would pick the child up, hold it tenderly in her arms, and smile at him with all the warmth and love he knew she possessed as she cradled his child close.

It made him ache because it was a dream that would never be a reality. The way she was looking at him now proved it. War had changed him, and he couldn’t be what she needed. Agnes deserved a man who would cherish her, shower her in love and affection, rather than be prone to moody fits of temper like himself. He wouldn’t expose her to the darkness.

Ainsley sidled up next to him and he gritted his teeth. Lovely as she was, the Scottish filly was the furthest thing from his mind. He preferred a woman who was quieter, kind yet strong, giving…he stopped as his gaze wandered to Agnes once again.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Ainsley whispered as she held out her hands to the fire.

Blast it all to hell. Now Ainsley was going to start badgering him too. “Who?”

Ainsley rolled her eyes as she sauntered away.

They moved into the dining room and Keiran was forced to admit, she was lovely. It only soured his mood the more.

By the time they sat down, he wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

The conversation started around him, but he ignored it for the most part.

That was, until Agnes chimed in, “We’ll return to England in the spring, won’t we, Mother?”

“Of course, dear. A year in Scotland is quite a long time. Longer than I intended on staying.”

Keiran felt his brows draw together. The only thing worse than sitting there with Agnes was the thought that she would leave and he wouldn’t see her sitting there again. But perhaps it was for the best. Once she was gone, he could go back to his normal life.

“It’s been so wonderful to stay for so long.” She beamed at Clarissa. “But I missed my first season, and I’d like to be back in time to participate this coming year.”

“How sad fer ye.” Keiran sneered across the table, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

She blinked, her gaze turning to him. “I’m not sad. I’ve loved this time. It’s simply that I would like to—”

“It’s just that ye’re ready to get back tae yer life where ye do things fer yerself and don’t have to think of anyone else.” He didn’t know why he was being so mean. Agnes was the least selfish person he knew. But he didn’t dig deeper into his feelings. In fact, something told him he shouldn’t think about it at all because he wouldn’t like the answer. That thought succeeded in intensifying the anger coursing through him.

Several people gasped around the table while Ewan let out a growl. “Keiran.” His deep voice cut through the noise.

He ignored Ewan, his gaze swinging to Agnes. She was so quiet and still, he almost missed the trembling of her bottom lip.

But the tears that welled in her eyes were unmistakable. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a poor impression of me.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke.

Guilt rose like bile in Kerian’s throat but he started this and wouldn’t back down now. It really was best that he push Agnes away. “Ye just are who ye are.”

She stood then, and a single tear slid down her cheek. It may as well have been a knife, the way that little drop cut into his heart. “If wanting a husband and family of my own is selfish, than I suppose I would have to plead guilty.”

Another tear fell, ripping him open. “That’s the only reason ye’d return? Not to stay up late and dance and flirt—”

“Enough,” Ewan’s fist hit the table, causing several of the ladies to gasp again.

But Agnes held up her hand to her cousin-in-law. “It’s all right, Ewan. Keiran can judge me if he wants.” More tears fell down her cheeks, but she stepped around the table, coming to stand next to his chair.

She leaned down, and despite the tears, her jaw was set. “I may seem like a silly English girl who only cares about dancing and parties to you, but you are a crusty rogue. I don’t see how you can accuse me of being selfish. I saw you sit on your horse and leave Ewan to help us alone that day the wheel of our carriage broke.”

“Go ahead, lass,” he stood then, pushing his chair so hard with the motion of his body that it fell to the floor. Dimly, he heard Ewan rise too. “Tell them the other reason you think I’m a rogue. The real one that has nothing to do with a wagon wheel.”

Her cheeks heated and her mouth opened and closed. Of course she couldn’t say it. They’d be married if she did. She stepped closer to him, though, not backing down. And he felt a niggle of pride in her backbone despite the hurt she must be feeling. He pushed that emotion away. Now was not the time.

Her scent wrapped around him as she turned her face up to him, and his chest constricted almost painfully. Even in his anger he wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her in her hurt. Her voice was soft and clear as she spoke, notching her chin toward him. “I think the pot is calling the kettle black.” And then with a swish of her skirts, she turned and exited the dining room without another look back.

Keiran was aware that if someone were counting victories, his would have been a glorious defeat. He’d been an arse. Everyone there knew how selflessly sweet Agnes was. He, on the other hand, was guilty of all that she’d accused. What was more, she’d gotten the last word in and then, left.

While he still stood there, with five pairs of accusing eyes staring at him, he picked up his chair and made to follow Agnes. But he hadn’t made five steps into the hall when a hand at his shoulder stopped him.

“If ye were any other man,” Ewan rumbled, “I’d knock ye senseless.”

“Why don’t ye just do it then?” Keiran turned. Fighting was exactly the distraction he needed. It would vent the anger, the passion, and the desperate wanting rising inside of him.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with ye?” Ewan’s voice rose in anger.

Keiran shook his head. “I dunnae ken.”

“Well, figure it out or leave. But we’ll not have an incident like that again. Ye’ll upset Clarissa, and Agnes does nae deserve it.”

Keiran nodded as he made his way to his room. Somehow, he had to find a way to control himself around Agnes. Because whether he was wrapping her in his embrace or yelling at her in front of everyone, what he couldn’t seem to do was leave her be.