Page 23 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

He ground his teeth. He owed her much. She held out the purse once more, lurching as she withstood Nykr knocking her back with his snout for more attention.

“Leave her be.” He pushed Nykr’s head away.

“Please, take it.”

One hundred pounds, a treasure by any man’s standard whether they be kings or commoners, and she would part with it without a single thought?

“Is this a trap, lass? Did ye set me up to make it look like I stole it?”

At this, an irritated lift of the eyes broke through the cracks of her resolve. “Mon dieu,” she groaned. “Why can ye nay accept someone doing something kind for ye?”

“Because people nay do kind things for me,” he retorted. “Ye try carrying the name MacLeod on yer back and see how people react. I tally my weapons, nay my blessings.”

She dropped her arm.

He scowled. “Keep the winnings, lass. I let my guard down. Ye won.”

Thought with my cock, and it cost me. Was still thinking with it. He turned once more to leave.

“But I nay want ye to go.”

He paused at her disappointed tone, brow furrowing. Pulse racing. Spoke over his shoulder, though he didn’t make eye contact.

“Ye cried. Ye feared me.” For one brief moment, he was alone with her again and once more, turned.

“I cried for yer people. For what my brother did.” Once more she glanced at his blades. “I nay fear ye.”

“I thought ye nay lie?” He stepped closer, bringing his body flush with hers. Picked up her hair and twisted the golden ends around his fingertip, so light compared to his dark tresses.

Her breath hitched. She nodded.

He trailed the knuckle twisted in her hair along her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed. A blush erupted upon her cheeks again. So fetching. Her mask had concealed that last night. And yet, this time, no masks. Mayhap the spell wasn’t broken… He leaned down to her ear, felt her breath puff against his cheek as her chest heaved against his. Damnation, he wanted another kiss, wanted to dip his nose to her hair and breathe that lavender back into his soul, wanted to take her in his arms and pin her down and rut out his frustration that she was an obstacle in all his plans and that he wanted her, too, needing more time with her to understand this pull he felt toward her.

“Yer demon from last night doesna exist, lass,” he murmured, feeling the reverberations of her shiver. His finger toying with her hair tugged gently on it. “I’m a renegade of the worst sort.”

“’Tis ye who lie now,” she whispered against his cheek. “I’d wager that mask ye wore is the most real part of ye. And that I’m the only one who’s seen beneath it.”

His throat thickened.

“What ye want from me… I can nay keep ye…” safe, he thought.

“Would ye, if ye could?”

He chewed on his cheek, choosing to evade her question. “A woman of mine would wear a target on her back, just like Owen’s wife did. For search as I might, every trail leading to the true culprit ran dry. And even if no’, James would never understand.” He released her hair so it spiraled free of his finger.

She froze. Face paled.

His brow furrowed with alarm. “What?”

“It’s just…my sister once said the same thing. James will nay understand.”

“Go back to yer people, lass—yer victory, and yer charmed life. Let us be strangers who once crossed paths, for there’s a war betwixt us and ye’ll be burned in the fire.”

He turned away again, drawing Nykr onward with a click of his tongue.

“Mayhap ye fear ye’ll be burned.”

He spun around, snarling. “I nay fear.”