He ignored her, lifting the jars from her arms with maddening ease. He examined them for a moment then pressed them back into her hands. His fingers brushed hers, lingering just long enough for her breath to falter.
“They’re yers,” he said simply.
Scarlett hugged the jars close. “I daenae ask ye to–”
“And I daenae ask for yer thanks.” His gaze caught hers, dark and steady. “But I’ll take it anyway.”
Her throat worked. “Thank ye,” she whispered, barely audible.
A spark flickered in his eyes before he turned away, scanning the crowd like the exchange meant nothing to him.
Scarlett followed, hugging the colors tight to her chest, her heart still stumbling in her ribs. She could not decide if she wanted to smack him or kiss him.
As they made their way back toward the horses, she muttered, “Ye’ve a terrible habit, ye ken.”
Robert glanced down at her, brow raised. “And what’s that?” “Thinking ye can solve everything with coin and command.” He smirked. “Did it work?”
Scarlett’s lips twitched, torn between laughter and fury. “This time.”
They mounted again, her body traitorously aware of every inch pressed against his. The jars clinked softly in her satchel, little promises of freedom she had not thought she’d ever hold.
He smirked, and it only made her want to throttle him more.
The village hummed around them, all color and sound. Chickens squawked underfoot, merchants shouted prices, and the air smelled of roasting meat and yeast. Scarlett hugged her jars tighter, the memory of his hand at hers still sparking across her skin.
“Ye didnae need to do that,” she said again. “I had the coin ready.”
As Robert strode, the crowd parted without him even asking. Folk dipped their heads, whispers trailing after him. “Ye can always let it go, Scarlett,” he said flatly.
“I’m just saying this in case of next time,” she snapped. His mouth curved. “Of course.”
Scarlett ground her teeth. The man was impossible. He stormed into her bargain, tossed coins like they weighed nothing, and now strutted beside her as though she were meant to swoon.
She was about to tell him as much when two young women in aprons slowed as they passed. Their eyes swept Robert from head to boot, bold as daylight. One whispered into the other’s ear, and both dissolved into giggles.
Scarlett’s stomach tightened. She fixed her eyes forward, grip tightening on the jars, but her voice slipped sharp and accusing. “Seems half the village cannae keep their eyes in their heads.”
Robert’s glance slid toward her, his tone amused. “Are ye jealous, lass?”
Her head snapped up. “I’m nae.” Too quick, and too defensive. Heat crawled up her neck anyway. “I just think it’s pathetic. All that sighing and staring, as if they’ve never seen a man with broad shoulders before.”
He smirked, infuriatingly pleased. “And what would ye ken about broad shoulders?”
Scarlett gave him a sweet, deadly smile. “Enough to say ye’re nae so special.”
Robert barked a laugh, startling a goose tethered nearby into flapping and honking. He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Liar.”
Scarlett bristled, shifting the jars in her arms like a shield. “Och, and ye’re arrogant enough to think every lass swoons when ye pass.”
“They do swoon,” he said easily, no hesitation.
Scarlett rolled her eyes heavenward. “God save me from Lairds with swollen heads.”
He only chuckled, the sound deep and maddening, as though she’d proven his point.
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “Ye ken, ye can just take yer pick of the sighing lasses and leave me be.”
Robert gave a low grunt of amusement, leaning closer so his words brushed against her ear. “If I wanted them, lass, I’d have had them long since. But I’m here with ye. Ye’re the only one for me.”
