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She'd been prepared for anything. Fire, lightning, even pain; the Irish were a mad bunch. But this firewater was nothing like what she expected. It was not vicious or hurtful; it was a length of smoky silk, lapping fire down her throat, hot and smooth. She hardly coughed in the least.
Which was not to say she did not cough at all.
His smile grew, slow and heated, the way a fuse slowly burns up to ignite. The dizziness spread to her body. She thrust the flask at him.
“That,” she said, trying not to gasp, “was not so bad.”
When he grinned, his whole face lit up. Fire could hardly compete.
Oh dear. It was possible this had been her true purpose. A frightening thought, that she'd been maneuvering to make this man smile at her.
“I am glad to hear it.” He swept the flask out of her hand, took a swallow and handed it back again,
that fast.
Oh, he was all challenge now.
She took it. Far too ready.
He eyed her in a way that made little chills run up and down her chest. It also made her breathe a little faster, a little shallower, as if her body was readying for something.
“You surprise me, lady.”
“Oh, indeed, I am full of surprises.”
“Which is entirely unsurprising,” he said drily.
“And unwelcome.”
He hesitated. “Soldiers at my door and swords aimed at my heart are unwelcome, not women with wits.”
“And now, you've surprised me, Irishman.”
This earned something almost better than a smile: a low, rumbling laugh. “Aye, we're reeling from each other.”
“Best to stop now, before we say something we'll regret,” she said, meaning it.
“Or do something.”
So, they were agreed. Best to stop.
She had no desire to stop.
She did have a desire to kick her father from here to Jerusalem, to best this Irishman in a game of chess, to throw up her skirts and relieve the delicate sweat forming on her inner thighs, to push off her hard-soled slippers and feel the grass under her feet.
Oh yes, she was filled with many sorts of desires, but she had no desire to stop drinking this Irishman's whisky and talking with him about what might come next.
Because with this man, you knew there was always something coming next.
There was nothing so exciting as what was coming next.
What lay behind was wreck and ruin. Anything might lie ahead.
It ought to frighten her silly.
It made her feel alive.
Chapter 9
