Page 43 of Sins of the Highlander

“I know ye think I owe ye somewhat, but for the life of me, I dinna know what it is,” he said, frustration with himself making his voice harsher than he intended. “’Tis no’ as if I forced ye, lass.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well, can ye honestly say anything that passed between us was against your will?” he demanded.

She merely looked at him.

“If ye expect me to be sorry, ye’re destined for disappointment.”

She didn’t say a word, but if glares were arrows, he’d be a dead man.

“And if the opportunity arises for me to do it again, rest assured, lass, I’ll no’ hesitate.”

“Dinna fret, MacLaren.” Her tone was sugary as a boiled sweet. “The situation is no’ in the least likely to repeat itself.”

Elspeth plopped down on the bench and looked out over the dark water, ignoring him completely.

“Well, then,” he said uncertainly. “That’s settled.”

He suspected that was wishful thinking. In the murky world of women, he was always adrift. They always wanted to pry into a man’s soul, to find out not only what he thought, but what he felt.

As if a man knew!

When Fiona first asked him how he felt about her, he had said in all honesty, that he didn’t have any feelings.

“Of course ye do, daftie man,” she had said with a laugh. “Ye just dinna know how to name them.”

So Fiona had taught him.

That jumbled-up sensation in his gut every time he saw her was excitement. The warmth in his belly meant he was happy. And when he told her that his chest constricted almost painfully, she had smiled.

“That’s love, Rob,” she’d said simply. “Ye love me. Your chest knows it. The rest of ye might as well admit it and be done.”

He loved her. It was a revelation.

But now that Fiona was gone, he was left to navigate the shoals of his soul alone.

The deerhound left his side, since no more sarnie seemed in the offing, and settled next to Elspeth with his head resting on her knee.

“He likes you,” Rob said.

She stroked Fingal’s head. “I’m glad someone does.”

His chest constricted. No. That doesn’t mean…

“I like ye,” he heard himself say before he thought better of it. “I like ye fine.”

Her lips twitched, but she kept herself from smiling. She rolled her eyes at him instead. “Ye have a strange way of showing it.”

“Ye too. I havena forgot that ye hate me,” Rob said, sensing a way to retrieve the situation. Why had she kissed him after she told him so? “Do ye kiss all the men ye hate?”

Her brows drew together. “I dinna hate ye so much.”

“No, ’twas ‘verra, verra much,’ as I recall.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise when she had kissed him after that. Maybe Elspeth Stewart was as turned about by her feelings as he was bewildered by his.

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.