“I think it best if ye left.”
Well, double hell. She couldn’t leave now, not without seeing what she’d come to see.
“Please, Lyon? I swear I will not publish anything without your permission, but the artwork will help fill a hole in my manuscript. I have so few sources from the medieval period.” Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm, attempting to convey her sincerity.
And as soon as her fingers touched his skin, they both froze. She couldn’t be certain whyhehad stiffened—perhaps he was direly offended by her impertinence—but for her part, she was arrested by the warmth, theburning, which began where she touched him and traveled up her arm. It seemed to creep across her chest, making her itchy, and she wanted nothing more than to close her entire hand around his arm, to touch his bare chest and scarred cheek…tolickhim.
Lick him? It is a good thing you do not care about propriety, apparently.
And then he exhaled, the lids of his eyes lowering, and Bonnie swore she felt him shudder. Shudder beneath her touch, which is when her fingersdidtighten, as if she couldn’t stand to lose the connection.
Maybe she couldn’t.
When he swallowed, the long, golden column of his throat moved in the most intriguing way, making her wonder what his skin felt like at the base of his throat. But then he was looking at her again, and as she met his eyes, she saw something in those hazel depths she couldn’t identify.
“Just the medieval embroidery,” he finally said, and it wasn’t a growl or a grunt or anything. Just…words, and it took her a moment to realize he was making a peace offering. He was allowing her access to part of his collection.
She allowed her gratitude to show as her smile bloomed. “Thank you, Lyon,” she breathed.
And when he nodded curtly, she could swear thatsomethingshe’d seen in his eyes had now turned to uncertainty and confusion.
CHAPTER 2
When was the last time someone had touched him the way she was doing now? Oh, he wasn’t without human contact, but when Keith landed punches, Lyon didn’tfeelthem…not the way he was feeling her hand on his bare skin.
And aching for more.
Whatwasit about this woman? She was nothing special to look at, but…damnation! When she touched him—touched him as if she weren’t afraid of him, as if his scars didn’t disgust her—he’d felt a foreign warmth creep up his arm and into his chest.
And damn him, but he wanted more.
Which is why he made himself shake her hand from his arm. He didn’t deserve the warmth she offered. He lowered his voice to its habitual growl and jerked his chin toward the opposite side of his study. “The art is over there.”
She cocked her head and studied him a few heartbeats longer than comfortable, and he saw a curiosity in those dark blue eyes he didn’t like. He couldn’t afford this intriguing interloper to becuriousabout him…not when she was willing to touch him so fearlessly.
Finally though, she nodded and turned to the far side of the room, and Lyon exhaled. To keep himself from watching the sway of her hips as she walked away, he scooped up his shirt, which he’d tossed over the back of his chair when he’d finished taking Keith’s pummeling, and pulled it over his head.
He was buttoning it up—not that it mattered, now that she’d seen his scars bared to the world—when he heard her gasp.
“This isbeautiful!”
He knew what she’d found. Lyon’s grandfather had mounted the necklace’s delicate gold links in a glass frame to protect it, and now it held the place of honor among the shelves.
“It’s rumored to have been made by Duncan Oliphant,” he said gruffly, surprised he was offering information.
From the way her eyes widened as she threw a smile his way, she seemed to realize it was unusual for him to offer conversation willingly. “The man who started the silversmithing school? He is the founder of Oliphant Engraving, is he not?”
Lyon folded his arms across his chest and rested a hip against the desk. “The engraving business wasnae started until many generations later. But thanks to him, it’s said the Oliphants are the finest engravers in the Highlands.”
Why in the hell was he still speaking to her? And why was he craning his head to get a better look at her as she bent to examine the necklace? He should be ignoring her and getting back to the new design he’d been working on…
But Bonnie Oliphant was impossible to ignore, especially when she made those alluring little hums and gasps when she found something new about the gold-work to enjoy. He liked the way she used the pad of one delicate finger to trace the design against the glass.
He didn’twantto like it, damn him.
“Has anyone worn it recently? I wonder how heavy it is.”
Would Rose have worn it eventually, had she lived?
