Page 40 of Dark Seduction

“Don’t you dare read my thoughts,” she cried.

“Ye think me an arrogant jerk,” he added as softly.

She was almost certain he did not know what a jerk was. “Not really,” she began nervously.

“I’m nay the arrogant one in this hall,” he said. “Ye stand there judging me all the time. Ye think I dinna ken? Ye think I canna hear ye callin’me a medieval macho man? I dinna ken macho, and I dinna need to. Ye be the arrogant one, Claire, thinkin’ yerself wiser than me, lookin’ down on all o’ us.”

She could barely breathe. “I don’t think I’m wiser,” she managed to say. “Not really. In my time, women are educated and independent of men. In my time, some women are actually smarter and richer than men. We think for ourselves, protect ourselves. We answer to no one.”

“Aye, ye have said so often enough. In yer time, women are queens without kings. Ye need a king!” He strode abruptly from the hall, outside into the night, the heavy door slamming like thunder behind him.

Claire began to shake. How had that terrible battle happened? And he was right. She had patronized him from the first moment they met. Maybe, just maybe, she did think she was smarter than he was. But she also respected and admired him, because his courage and honor were amazing. She hated the fight they had just had.

Go and tell him!

Claire hesitated. Of course she needed to go after him and apologize. She needed to admit that she was partly wrong. Maybe she was entirely wrong. Glenna was an older woman by medieval standards, and Claire felt certain she had lands, due to the wealth her manner of dress indicated. In the fifteenth century, a woman needed a husband and an overlord and there was simply no getting around it.

Damn Malcolm for using his sneaky gift all the time. But she had obviously hurt his feelings and she had better watch her thoughts.

Claire went outside. It was twilight and she hesitated, recalling Sibylla’s assault in its grotesque entirety. She did not want to be alone, not outside, after dark. She stood but a few steps from the door to the hall and glanced around. Malcolm stood above her on the ramparts above the nearby gatehouse. From his stance, she saw that his back was rigid.

Claire hurried up the stone steps and paused beside him. He glanced briefly at her. “I be proud o’ bein’ the Maclean,” he said quietly, “an’ if that makes me arrogant, so be it.”

“You should be proud,” Claire said softly, meaning it. Her heart turned over with dangerous haste, as if she really cared about this man. She touched his bare forearm and felt the muscle there tense. “You are the most courageous man I have ever met, and you are a Master. I don’t know much about that world, but the vows you have taken are beyond admirable. Men like you don’t exist in my time,” she added. “And sometimes I am confused—I don’t know what to do.”

Their gazes had locked. “Ye need to trust me,” he said flatly.

Claire started. “When it comes to my life, I do trust you.”

He smiled at her. “That be a beginning, then, fer us.”

What did that mean?

“Yer an arrogant woman, lass, but I dinna mind very much,” he added even more softly.

Claire bit her lip, her pulse leaping. She wasn’t arrogant, and there wasn’t going to be a beginning or an “us.” But she wasn’t about to get into another argument now.

“Glenna has been widowed twice,” he said, and Claire was stunned that he was going to explain himself to her. “She has lands, Claire, an’ she needs a husband to protect them. Macleod is a widower with two children himself. He needs her wealth an’ a mother for the boys.”

Claire was filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

He nodded, his expression remaining solemn. “Ye jump afore ye look, Claire, an’ one day it may hurt ye badly.”

She did have a tendency to act in haste, without forethought. “I’m also sorry I have called you names. I don’t mean it, you just infuriate me sometimes.”

“Nay, ye mean it. An’ it’s nay anger. I scare ye,” he said bluntly.

She met his gaze, stunned. He was right. She did mean it when she called him a jerk, but he was obviously secure enough not to really care. And he did scare her, a lot. He scared her because he was so sexy and so powerful and she didn’t know what she should do with herself—and her heart—while around him.

He smiled at her now. The smile was warm, but not knowing or promising. It was not seductive. But it didn’t matter; it was too late. A different kind of intimacy had somehow begun—and she didn’t want it. They had shared a battle and a bed, but they did not need any kind of emotional connection. That was dangerous. Impossible, even. Admiring him was okay. Liking him was not.

“Ye think too hard.” He grasped her hand, pulling her back to face him.

Claire couldn’t breathe. “It’s w-what I do,” she stuttered, because desire was flowing like honey. This was the problem—her attraction—and she wasn’t going to complicate it with any feelings, not even friendship. “I had better go,” she began nervously. Except, walking away from him was the last thing she really wished to do.

“I ha’ never met a woman like ye, Claire,” he said quietly.

It was an intense moment before she could speak. “Don’t!” She managed a quick, tight smile. “Don’t complicate things. I hate words!” She blushed at that because words were her life. “And if you want to seduce me, you don’t have to do it with declarations of affection. We both know a simple entrancing look will do.” She hesitated. “Making lo—I mean, sharing a bed is one thing, friendship is another. I don’t think we should combine the two ever.”