“I can leave you both to your flirtation, if you would like?” Eilidh sipped her tea. “You can plot your wicked deeds in peace.”
Kieran tossed the orange back and forth between his hands. “I’m hardly tempting ye to sin, lass. Only to try tae remember.”
Or, rather, to fall in love with me once again.
She pursed her lips and studied him for a moment.
“I want more than oranges. This isn’t just about you giving me something physical in exchange for my efforts. I want more than that.” She poured herself a spot more tea. “If I am going to actively try to uncover painful memories, I need to not feel so alone in my vulnerability.”
Excellent.
She had moved to bargaining. Always a sign of capitulation with Jamie.
“What do ye propose?” Kieran barely suppressed a triumphant grin.
“For every question you ask me, I get to ask one of yourself in return.”
She paused, as if expecting him to back down.
Hardly.
“Deal,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Anyquestion.”
If she thought to scare him, she was utterly mistaken.
“Any question. Anything.” He would lay bare any hurt, confess to any emotion, anything to win her heart once more. “But ye have tae try to remember. And ye have to try in the ways I request.”
“I am certainly not going to agree toanythingyou request—”
“Within reason.” He held out a staying hand. “I willnae ask ye to do anything untoward.”
She continued to stare at him.
Or rather, she tried, but her eyes struggled to stop staring at the orange.
Finally, she nodded. “Very well.”
“Excellent,” he smiled. “Let’s start this afternoon.”
Kieran extended a hand across the table.
She hesitated and then took it, sliding her palm into his.
The shock of touching her warm skin sent a jolt up his arm.
He noted the pulse fluttering in her throat. Her own emotions were not as calm as she supposed.
He would rekindle their love.
Simon the Sassenach would not win Eilidh’s affections without a battle.
And in time-honored Scottish tradition, Kieran intended to fight dirty.
17
November 1815
