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He took two steps toward her despite the glares of both her kinsmen. “Yet, your bow was not at the ready.”
Her lips were fuller than any he’d ever seen before. What would they feel like gliding over his own? How sweet would the taste of Lina’s tongue be? He would dearly like to find out, despite the fact he could not. Would not.
“I did not deem it necessary.”
He smiled. “So you have seen many skirmishes, then, to know when ’tis necessary?”
“I’ve traveled with my brother, aye.”
“And have you used your bow to injure or kill a man?”
“No, but I have used it to defend myself. And would not hesitate to drive an arrow into the neck of any man who threatened me or my kin and clan.”
He did not doubt her words. “Why are you proficient with the bow, Lina?”
Her chin rose. She would not tell him, though Niall could guess at the reason. If his father and half his clan were slaughtered, he’d wish to do the same even if ’twas unusual to do so. He’d seen women wield a bow and arrow or even a sword but rarely. “Why did you come over here to speak to me?”
“Why do you not send me away?”
The answer to both was so obvious yet unbelievable at the same time. Niall was attracted to the sister of his clan’s greatest enemy’s chief. Attracted in a way that was both unrealistic and dangerous. But in matters of the heart, such things often mattered little.
“I would do so if I were able. But it seems my lips refuse to form the command.”
Oh, this woman. . .
“Why do you smile so?” she asked. “As if you are reluctant to do so? Is smiling not encouraged in your clan?”
“I do so less than most,” he admitted.
“Why?”
He felt the surprising desire to be honest or, at least, as best he could. “I’ve learned that emotion is unreliable.”
She made a very unladylike, adorable sound. “I’ve not heard something as ridiculous as that before in my life.”
“You have your opinion, and I have mine.”
“What happened to make you believe as much?” Then, before he could answer, she added, “So you do not trust emotion?”
“I do not.”
“Do you have them?”
“When I’m unable to stop myself.”
Lina shook her head. “You are a most curious man, Niall Duncraig.”
“You are a most curious woman, Avelina MacKinlay.”
Their gazes locked. Neither of them turned or even, it seemed, breathed. He could see the rise and fall of her chest but tried not to notice that particular area too closely. Though it was difficult, out of the corner of his eye, not to do so.
“We had best be off.”
Niall’s brother approached, clearly worried about the fact that Lina’s kinsmen stalked toward them looking as if they might have something to say about his extended conversation with the woman. Indeed, a most curious conversation. He’d expected them to discuss the MacBrannigan men or the weather, not the reason for his disdain for emotion. Or to admit, which they had basically both done, that they wished to be in each other’s presence despite that they should both want just the opposite.
“Niall?”
Just before her brother arrived, he allowed himself to be pulled away.
