A floorboard creaks, and my eyes jolt open.
It takes me a moment to realize I’m lying on Callum’s bed.
My body heats. Before today, I’d never even been in a man’s bedchambers before—let alone fallen asleep on their soft quilt with my hair soaking their pillows. At least I had the grace to clothe myself in the tartan dress after my bath. Even if my feet are bare, and my skirts have risen to my thighs.
I can smell him on the sheets, soft and masculine, and my cheeks flush.
The room is dark, though a fire is crackling in the hearth, emitting a soft glow. When I glance at the narrow window, I notice the crescent moon outside. It is nighttime already.
Beside the window, Callum sifts through his wardrobe. He’s wearing his kilt, but his shirt now hangs over the arm of his chair.
I bite my b
