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“We can repeat it as many times as you wish,” he offered out of friendship, she knew. He had been nothing but an irreproachable gentleman this morning, talking about the estate, the climate in the Highlands, or the festivals he enjoyed. His company helped her take her mind off her recent fretting.
A little grin breathed out of her lips. “Your fame precedes you, sir.” Meaning she should not be seen with him too often to avoid spots on her reputation.
“Unjust most of the times,” he defended with a side-smile.
“Is it?” she teased.
“What can I do if the lasses seek my attention?” He gave an amused shrug.
Catriona did not blame them. The third McKendrick brother possessed less rugged features, with a classical cut that must enthral the girls. “And you give it to them, I assume.”
“I can’t be rude now, can I?” A mischievous glint came to his eyes.
“A true gentleman,” she played along with a smile.
She wished to be able to join their team; it would have been less shameful. Problem was that once had she set eyes on the blasted second brother, every other male on the planet disappeared from her mind.
“The best you’ll find,” he mocked.
They left their horses with the stable lad and went their separate ways. Soon it would be luncheon, and Catriona planned to take it and sit with a book.
“What did he do to you?” Catriona had just reached the entrance hall and was taking off her hat as Fingal’s rasp came from behind her.
She swivelled to him, a frown coming to her brows. He stood in the middle of the entrance hall, legs braced, powerful arms crossed over the broad chest. The memory of the feel of him against her, the feel of him in her hand, had flames spreading through her. “What he did or did not is none of your business.”
His hard stare seared her with anger. “Did he do anything improper?”
The man was a prying blackguard. “Define improper?” she procrastinated with a tad of taunting delight.
“Answer me!” He prowled to her.
She lifted her chin, spine stiffening, eyes clashing with his. “I will not answer.”
“Damn your defiance, Sassenach!” His tall frame halted mere feet from her.
“You have no right to nose into my life.” The argument sounded sensible on the surface, but he was doing things to her underneath. And it had nothing to do with vexation.
“No, but I’m doing it anyway.” His glare lowered to hers and she battled it with her whole might.
No, she did not battle his anger. If only… The impulse to bunch his pristine shirt with both her hands and pull him to her to sate this damned hunger once and for all nearly undid her. “Good luck with that,” she threw out and moved round him to leave.
“Did you enjoy his kiss more than mine?” he asked her back.
Her feet froze mid-step. Her breath froze, too. And her heart—that skipped into a wild race a second later. A wave of something scorching mingling with arousal and fury mushroomed in her. The mention of their kiss, kisses, came as a potent aphrodisiac. Potent and inescapable.
She twisted to him, dark eyes shooting fire. “How dare you?” How dare he put it in a loud voice when she was wrenching so much effort to forget the darned kiss, avoid it? And now to remember it, savour it in her head as if there would be no other like it in her entire life.
Despite the scoff he directed at her, his stance conveyed the same scorching sparks as hers. “I dare because I know my brother.”
Without thinking of what she did, she paced to him, stanching less than a foot from his steel frame. “But you don’t know me!” she spat hotly. How could she even think of kissing any other man when he had spoiled it for her?
Those sparks in him shifted subtly, anger falling to second place as his luminous attention descended to her mouth, making the poor body part tingle with anticipation. Worse, her gaze fell to his sculpted lips, with her insubordinate tongue darting out to moisten hers. Only for his cinnamon weapons to darken on it.
“Oh, but I want to. You have no idea how much.” The heated rejoinder left no doubt as to the biblical sense of his statement.
Pure, feverish steam escaped her every pore at this, colouring her cheeks vivid red. Her lips parted to intake that gulp of oxygen she had forgotten she needed. His scrutiny followed her every move.
She sneered, sneered, mind you—a lady with the highest English education, given by the best governesses, best etiquette teachers, dance instructors, finishing school. “How nobly sincere of you, kind sir.” The sarcasm seemed to put him even more on edge.
