“Too bad.” She popped the last of her breakfast into her mouth and then started to take down her tent.
He didn’t understand her. Couldn’t be sure if she mocked him because she knew more than she was willing to say or if it was in her nature to tease. It didn’t matter. He felt a like fool either way, because in just a matter of days, the lass had been able to take down his defenses and leave him completely vulnerable.
Ian had not lain with a woman in years. On purpose.
“Ye,” he started his accusation to tell her she’d put a spell on him.
But she turned to face him, a brow raised, a smile on her lips, and the words stilled on his tongue. Rhiannon was the most intriguing and gorgeous creature.
“Thank ye for doing that.” He pointed to her tent. “Let me finish.”
“I can do it.” She didn’t stop either, still moving around.
Ian shook his head, standing and taking over the work. “I know ye can, lass. Ye’ve proven yourself more than capable in so many things. But ye shouldna have to. Let me. I want to help.”
“Why not? Because I’m a woman?” Hands flew to her hips, drawing his eyes, and he forced himself to swallow the groan.
“Aye.”
“Women can take down tents.”
“Aye.”
“So why is that the reason?”
“Because ye shouldna have to dismantle the place I nearly ravaged ye in.” His voice was a little louder than he intended.
“Ravaged, eh?” The laugh was evident in the lilt of her words. “Is that what you call it? I rather like that word.”
Ian swallowed, tamping down the need to ravage her once more. This woman was going to drive him mad…
“We need to get on the road,” was his only reply, for he feared what he wanted to say—that if she wanted a ravaging, he’d give her a good one that left her legs shaking and her heart pounding.
Rhiannon’s laugh tinkled through the forest like a fairy’s as she saddled her horse, then mounted the way he wished she’d mount him. She tapped her lap, and he wished he were Goosie jumping up to lay right there. When she caught him staring, the lass actually had the audacity to wink.
She knew what she was doing to him. There was no question of that.
Even if he knew it was stupid, Ian decided that the best way to keep himself from snatching her off her horse and having his way with her was to ignore her completely.
A feat that proved harder than he thought. He barely spoke to her, only offering grunts instead of words. She chattered on anyway. By noon, she hopped off her horse as if she’d not been riding for hours and pranced off to relieve herself. They sat for lunch, and still, she talked. And talked. And teased. He said nothing.
By the time they made camp, he’d decided an ocean between them was probably necessary, and at this rate, he would go all the way to the Orkney Isles. Was this a trick of some sort? Was she not in trouble? Had his brother connived him into picking her up and bringing her to Scotland with her, driving him to return to the one place he didn’t want to go?
“What is your purpose in going to Scotland?” he asked, certain now she was up to something—though he knew full well that believing she’d begged for an escort to seduce him was utter rubbish.
She cocked her head. “Have you been tippling the flask?”
“What?”
“You know exactly why I’m going to Scotland. To escape my vile brother and his despicable attempt at marrying me to that slimy lord.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you unwell?”
Ian groaned. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“If you say so.” She shrugged. “I’m going to sleep.”
“I’m no’ going to warm ye.”
“Your choice.” She rolled her eyes and disappeared into her tent with Ian feeling like an arse, which he was.
