CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Robert’s stride ate up the corridor, each step landing hard enough to rattle the sconces on the walls. Her words rang still, a lash across his skin. Pretended.
Christ above, did she think him blind? He’d felt her body quake beneath his hands, her nails biting into his arms, the heat of her breath breaking against his throat. There was no pretense in that.
By the time he reached his solar, his chest burned with a mix of fury and hunger so tangled he scarcely knew one from the other. He grabbed the nearest bottle, sloshed dram into a cup, and downed it in one swallow. The fire in his throat dulled nothing. Another pour, another swallow, and still her voice haunted him.
“I pretended.”
The cup clattered down, half-spilled. With a growl low in his chest, Robert turned back into the corridor. He didn’t think,didn’t plan, just moved, driven by the need to see her face when he called her lie.
Before he knew it, the latch was in his hand, and the door pushed wide.
Not a knock. Not a call. Just him, storming through like a man possessed. And there she was.
Her lips parted, startled, as though she’d been about to speak his name. The sight of her, unguarded and luminous, hit him harder than the dram had, as if he had not just seen her moments ago.
Scarlett froze when she saw him. “Robert.” His name was sharp, almost a challenge.
He shut the door behind him, the sound like a drumbeat. “Ye lied.” Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
He took two steps closer until the fire’s glow caught on the muscle of his jaw. “Last night. Ye said ye pretended.”
“I did,” she snapped though the flush on her neck betrayed her.
His eyes narrowed. “Then look at me now, Scarlett, and tell me ye didnae feel a thing when I had ye under me.”
Her lips parted then pressed tight.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me ye didnae writhe against me like a lass starved of touch. Tell me ye didnae cry out for more.”
She shoved past him, putting the table between them. “Ye’ve an ego bigger than this whole castle.”
Robert followed, slow as a predator circling. “Aye, I do. Because I ken the truth when I taste it on a woman’s tongue. And ye, lass…” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Ye tasted of surrender.”
Her hand slammed against the table. “I surrendered nothing!”
He closed the gap, leaning his fists on the table’s edge, caging her in with his body. “Scarlett, if I’d taken ye then, ye’d have shattered apart in me arms. That’s nae surrender? That’s nae truth?”
Her breathing quickened, breasts rising and falling beneath the thin fabric of her gown. She tried to laugh, bitter and shaky. “So what if I did? It doesnae mean ye’ve won.”
Robert’s eyes burned into hers. “This is nae a game to win. Ye think to wound me with lies, but all ye’ve done is make me want to prove ye wrong.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Daenae.”
“Daenae what?” He tilted his head, closing the scant inches left. His breath brushed her cheek. “Daenae touch ye? Daenae show ye how false yer words are?”
“Daenae tempt me,” she whispered though the tremor in her voice gave her away.
His jaw clenched, a battle raging inside him. He wanted to crush her mouth under his and drag the truth from her body until she admitted it with every cry. Instead, he rasped, “Lass, ye’re the one tempting me. And ye’ve nay notion how close I am to proving it.”
Scarlett’s eyes darted to his lips then back to his gaze. “Then why daenae ye? If ye’re so certain?”
The challenge in her tone was a spark on dry tinder. Robert’s body pressed nearer, his thigh brushing hers. His voice broke roughly. “Because if I do, I willnae stop. And when I’m done, ye willnae be able to pretend anything again.”
Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened on the edge of the table.
Silence swelled. Robert’s eyes dropped once more to her lips, drinking her in. Every instinct screamed at him to take her then and there, to claim what was his.
