Page 72 of My Highland Love

He turned, leaving his drink untouched, and leaned against the sideboard. “How do you propose to do that?”

Elise slid him a sidelong glance. “Milord, do you think you are the only one with powers of persuasion?”

The sensual lift of her mouth startled him. He couldn't believe it. Was the little minx threatening to use her charms against him? A thrill reverberated deep within him. Lounging against the chair, she tipped her head back. His excitement grew as, closing her eyes, she reached back to tousle her hair. The locks cascaded in silken layers about her shoulders. Her fingers slid from her hair and along her throat. His body tightened when her fingertips skimmed the valley between her breasts. Her palms flattened across her belly, smoothing her dress, and finally came to rest in her lap. She toyed with him—but he wanted her. He commanded his gaze to break from the sultry picture, but his mind refused to comply.

Elise patted the tiny space on the seat beside her. “Come sit with me, milord.”

Her use of “milord” tantalized him, despite the knowledge she used the title only when angry or mocking him. “Nae, lass. I think not.”

“Afraid?” She gave a low laugh.

Confound the woman! She hadn't even bothered to open her eyes when addressing him.

“Not afraid, love,” he replied. “Cautious.”

“Ah, I see.”

Aye, he was sure she did.

She stretched her legs in one fluid motion. She opened her eyes and, leaning forward, shook out her skirt, a flash of white chemise showing before the fabric settled about her. She rose and glided over to him.

“If you're not in the mood,” she tugged the collar on his shirt, “we can discuss this later.”

She smoothed his shirt with the same maddening slowness she had used when straightening her dress. When her fingers tucked his shirt into the waistband of his kilt, he yanked her to him.

“You're playing with fire,” he said.

She gazed up at him. “Am I?”

He bent to kiss her, but she dodged his mouth. He lifted a questioning brow and she met his gaze.

“You won't sit with me yet have no qualms about accosting me? Are you not tired?' she asked abruptly.

“Nae.”

“Good. Then we shall talk.”

Extricating herself from his hold, she wrapped a hand around his forearm and led him to the couch. Elise directed him down onto a cushion, then knelt on the cushion beside him.

“You are much too tense.” She turned his back toward her.

With great care, she massaged the hard muscle of his shoulder. Marcus felt himself relax. He closed his eyes, contemplating ways to entice her hands lower. He became aware of her breath on his neck. He throbbed, anticipating her quick intake of breath when her gaze fell upon the noticeable lift of his kilt. She shifted and her breath came hot in his ear. Marcus shuddered as her lips brushed his ear.

“It wasn't your fault, you know.”

His eyes flashed open and he twisted to face her. “I will not discuss this with you.”

She shrugged, then nearly bounced into a sitting position beside him. “That doesn't change the fact I'm right.”

“You know nothing of it,” he snapped.

“I know enough.”

Marcus faced her. Words poured from his mouth even as he blushed at defending his actions to a woman—especially this woman. “It is my responsibility to see that no harm comes to any here. I nearly failed.”

“But you didn't.”

The flat response brought him up short.