Page 36 of The Highland Ghost’s Virgin

He found he agreed with entirely more of it than he was comfortable admitting to a council that would only take the admission as leverage for the next demand.

He found her in the solar, Greer's endless lists spread across her lap, a pot of ink balanced precariously on the chair’s arm.

"There's a horse saddled in the yard," Alpin said from the doorway.

Grisselle looked up. "Am I being sent somewhere?"

"The village. I'm taking ye down to it."

"Now?" She glanced at the lists still balanced on her knee, as though weighing them against whatever this was.

"Now's as good a time as any." He stepped further into the room, arms folded. "It's practical. The clan should ken yer face before there's a wedding for half of them to stare at instead of listening to the vows. And ye should ken theirs, so ye're nae standing at the altar surrounded by strangers who already feel entitled to an opinion on ye."

"That sounds remarkably like an excuse dressed up as logic."

"It's nae an excuse. It's logic."

"Every excuse sounds like logic to the person making it." Grisselle set the lists aside regardless, rising and reaching for her cloak from the back of the chair. "You could simply say you wanted to show me the village, Alpin. It wouldn't kill you to admit to wanting something plainly, for once."

"I want ye to ken the village. That's the whole of it."

"Mm." She fastened the cloak at her throat, unconvinced but clearly amused by his refusal to be anything other than stubborn about it. "You're a very practical man."

"I am."

"I'm certain that's exactly what you told yourself before you kissed me on a beach as well."

Alpin's jaw tightened. He didn't turn away this time, not immediately, and for a moment neither of them said anything at all, the space between them considerably smaller than it had been a breath ago.

"That was different."

"Was it?" Grisselle's hands went still on the clasp of her cloak, not quite finished fastening it. "I confess I've thought about it a fair amount, trying to work out how."

"It was a mistake."

"You've mentioned that before. Twice, if I recall." She tilted her head, watching him the way she'd watch a man lying badly at cards. "You say it very firmly, for a mistake you don't seem to regret."

"I regret it plenty." He said, looking at her mouth.

"You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Standing very still while you deny it," she said, her voice dropping into a smaller, far less steady cadence than she intended.

Grisselle pulled hard on the leather reins, pretending to adjust her grip as her fingers fumbled against the cold brass buckle. Warm color rose quickly along her throat, creeping up to her cheeks. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the horse’s dark mane, her knuckles white against the leather as she realized how close he had stepped.

Alpin didn't pull back. He reached out with one broad, slow hand, his heavy fingers covering hers over the leather reins, instantly stilling her restless movement. The warmth of his palm cut straight through the chill air.

"If I wanted to deny something, lass," Alpin said, his low, gravelly voice steady and completely in control as he looked down into her dark eyes, "ye would nae have to guess at it."

Grisselle swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering against her collarbone as his chest rose and fell just inches from hers. She tried to summon a quick, sharp retort, but the sheer weight of his presence held her tongue, leaving her fingers trapped quietly beneath his on the leather.

Alpin's jaw tightened, and he turned toward the door before she could see whatever his face was doing with that. "The horses are waiting."

"Of course they are. Practically."

She was laughing at him. He could hear it in her voice even without turning around, and found he didn't mind it nearly as much as he ought to.