Page 10 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

She pulled the skirt sharply back across her leg, blushing, for she plainly had not noticed.

“Ye are right,” he went on. “This plan would fail. Ye think so ill of me that pretending tae be my betrothed would be laughable.”

“Me? Do ye even ken yer own mind? Between the two of us ye are the one with hatred in yer heart.” She turned to face him in the saddle. “Are ye nae the one who has just accused me of being proud and haughty, when in fact, ye ken me so little at all? Imagine ye pretending tae be in love with me. That is a much more difficult task.”

“I am a fairer player than ye think.”

“Oh? Ye think so?”

“I struggle tae imagine ye taking on such skills, Eloise. The statuesque woman. I cannae believe ye’re an escort at all.” He shook his head firmly.

“Ye doubt my capability?” This seemed to offend her just as much as his insinuation that it was an awful occupation, her jaw slackening.

“Aye,” he said, his voice deep. He didn’t know how they’d ended down this rabbit warren of conversation, but there they were, unable to part from it.

Abruptly, she slid down the saddle again, sweeping her skirt to the side as she stepped toward him.

“Ye think me a statue, Murdoch? A woman nae capable of showing affection?”

“And here I thought I was being too subtle,” he muttered wryly. Her gaze darkened on him even more, then she reached for him. He was so unprepared for it that he didn’t respond. Her hands rested on his arms folded across her chest and she raised herself up toward him on her toes, her face softening into a sudden smile. She whispered in his ear. Her lips came so near to his skin that a sudden shudder passed down his spine. Her hands gripped his arm in a way that made his imagination run wild, imagining her holding onto him in other ways.

“I am a lass capable of more than ye ken,” she whispered, her voice suddenly deep and hooded.

Dinnae make me desire ye now, Eloise.

Yet it was there. That husky voice, that touch, that whisper, all of it. As she released him and stepped back, she swept her arms outward, victoriously.

Aye, very well. She can act the part.

“Ye can act the part momentarily then.” He grunted in acknowledgement. “I wonder what Avery would make of that?”

Her face fell. Her cheeks grew pale, that pleasant blush slipping away. As the wind whipped off the lake and bristled the loose curls of her hair, she shivered. He wasn’t sure if it was a shiver of fear from his words or the wind.

“Please, dinnae tell him. He… He would never understand.”

“Why dae ye dae it?” Murdoch didn’t get an answer though. Eloise turned away and hurried back to the saddle.

“I should go.”

“Aye, I agree. This will never work.”

“We have already both agreed that.”

“Aye.”

“Fine.”

A strange silence descended between them as Murdoch watched Eloise hurry into her saddle. He’d been so caught up in their argument that in the silence, he was abruptly aware of other sounds. There were more horses’ hooves on the path nearby, and voices, of three men talking to each other.

Nay, nay, this cannae be happening.

“Murdoch? Is that ye?”

He’d know that voice anywhere. He saw the horses first, three of them, sweeping toward him off the path. His father led the way on his tall brown steed. He brushed aside a branch then turned to Murdoch.

He stared up at the dark eyes of Fergus Gordon, the same eyes as his own. The hair that had once been dark black was now firmly grey. It hung loose around his ears, just noticeable beneath the silk and embroidered hat he wore. His vast doublet and cloak were doing well to hide his rounded belly these days. Around his chin was a thicker beard than Murdoch remembered, but the great smile was just the same. It was how Fergus had always been, constantly smiling.

“Murdoch!” he declared with a booming voice and jumped down from his horse, thrusting the reins into the hands of the guards. “Me boy, it has been too long since I have seen ye.” He strode toward Murdoch across the loch bank.