Page 11 of Anice’s Bargain

She studied him for a moment then, this man who had cared so well for her dog, who had kept his promise, who had agreed to marry her when clearly, he did not wish to. Her cheeks heated at the amount of convincing Laird Graham had needed to get an agreeable reply from his son.

James Graham.

He was not unattractive, and he had treated her kindly thus far in their limited interactions. A beard bristled over his large jaw and she could not help but wonder how it might compare from the smooth caress of Timothy’s freshly shaven face. Not that Timothy had truly kissed her the way she’d seen other men kiss women. He’d been too aware of her femininity, too protective of her virtue.

But what would it be like to kiss this man? To be kissed by him? His arms were large, thick with bulky muscle. Surely a simple embrace would swallow her against him. And what must his beard feel like? Scratchy prickles? Or was it soft? His lips showed beneath the thick strands of hair, pink and full. What might he taste like?

The brine of salted meat? The earthy musk of home-brewed ale? Her head spun. Dear God, she was so ravenously hungry. Even her fantasies were laced with tasting food on men’s lips.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The slight movement broke the spell of her curiosity and she jerked her gaze away. She’d been staring.

How embarrassing.

“Ye dinna have to do this.” He spoke low, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anice tilted her face up to him. “Your father’s grand speech would indicate otherwise.”

“Ye dinna want to marry me,” he said smoothly.

“Is that an opportunity for escape? Or a warning?”

Not that his answer would alter hers. She would marry him. No matter how large or intimidating he was. For he was truly large.

And intimidating.

But Anice was never one to fall quiet under intimidation.

“You don’t want to marry me,” she stated bravely. “Is that what this is about?”

His gaze narrowed and didn’t once trail down the length of her body. He was perhaps one of the only men in Scotland and England to not pay her beauty any mind. All men, including those who claimed to be chivalrous, had slid appreciative stares her way when they thought she would not notice.

Not this man. His eyes did not move past her face, as though he were assessing her worth as a person rather than her beauty as a wife. As though he could see into her soul.

Why could he not be like other men and take in her appearance, rather than leave her nearly squirming like a worm baited on a hook?

“Do you not find me attractive?” She’d intended her question to pull his eyes from her face to her body, something she was used to. Something she could bear. Only the words came out sounding arrogant and ugly.

She licked her lips, giving in to the nervousness twitching through her. “Isn’t that what all men want? A woman with a title who is appealing and comes with a hefty dowry?”

“There are more important things in life,” he answered with a slow, steady patience.

Another unexpected response. The man was insufferable. “There are few men who would agree with you,” she countered.

“There are many men who are fools.” The clatter of footsteps echoed around them. He slid a glance to the open hall at their left and stepped closer. His presence was too great, it seemed to suck the air from the massive room and left her heart pounding.

“There is more to the world than titles and coin.” His gaze did slide down her now, but not with appreciation. “And beauty.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Such fascinating words when spoken from the mouth of a Graham.” She could not keep the harshness of her hatred from her words.

“Ye’ll be a Graham soon, too.”

She drew in a harsh breath at the revelation. Her thoughts swam in a dizzying mix of uncertain emotions made thick with hunger. She could not do this. Not until she’d had something to eat, until she could properly think. She turned to go.

“Anice,” he said her Christian name in a low voice. There was something soft to it, sensual, beckoning, and despite her irritation, it made a warmth stir deep in her belly.

She faced him once more.

“I will only wed ye if ye come willingly,” he said. “I’ll no’ force ye.”