“Insults willna sway me from my course.” He forced himself to keep his gaze locked with hers rather than allowing it to drift down and take in the revealing drape of her thin night rail. “Yer name, mistress.”
“Mila Carthson.” She glared at him, her jaw set.
“And where is yer home?”
“Edinburgh.” She bit out the words, looking ready to spit in his face.
“And yer godson? If that be the truth. His name?” He struggled to remain cold and unyielding. The hatred building in her eyes pained him.
“Carthson Robert Abernathy,” she said. “He prefers ‘Robbie.’” She bared her teeth like a cornered animal. “He is my godson, and I would kill to protect him.”
Of that, he had no doubt. “Ker is the family name of the Roxburghe peerage. Why did ye lie about that?”
Her expression cold and emotionless, she glared at him as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Mistress? I would appreciate an answer,” he said. “The truth this time.”
She folded her arms and disarmed him with a chilling smile. “I didna lie. I am the duke’s bastard sister, by his father’s favorite mistress.” With a toss of her tempting black mane, she strolled over to the cabinet and filled a single glass. A subtle yet obvious insult. “When several of the duke’sacquaintancesfound me and Robbie’s mother, my dearest friend, quite fetching…” She paused and drained the goblet, then slammed it back down on the cabinet. Slowly, she turned and shot another icy look his way. “Do ye understand the gist ofkill or be killed?”
“More than ye realize, m’lady.”
She huffed a bitter laugh and paired it with a sneer. “Oh, so we are back tom’ladynow, are we?” She sashayed back to him. The tempting sway of her hips made him swallow hard. “I am a bastard, remember? Not alady.”
“Why did ye lie?”
“To protect myself and Robbie.”
“That, in and of itself, is a lie. I offered ye sanctuary here. Did I not?”
“And as soon as ye discovered my lineage, ye wouldha made me a fourth in Vivyanne’s troop of whores.” She bared her teeth again. “I know how men like ye think, but ye best understand, just because I am a bastard doesna mean I am a whore. At least, not yet. I consider selling my body the last resort to survival.”
“Ye have no grounds for that accusation, woman. No grounds at all.” Her unjust perception sent a renewed surge of frustration through him. He stabbed the air, aiming his finger at her. “I have been nothing but kind to ye and Robbie.”
She glared at him, trembling with fury, her tempting curves silhouetted by the candelabra on the table behind her. “Ye dinna ken what grounds I have for anything. Ye have not lived my life or endured my troubles.”
That he could not argue. He needed a drink before he said something he shouldn’t. He strode to the cabinet, yanked open the doors, and searched for the strongest available spirit. “Why the blazes did I not stock this room with some feckin’ whisky?”
“I believe I asked ye the same earlier,” came her snide retort from the window.
He turned to find her perched on the wide sill, staring out into the night. The cooling breeze lifted her hair like the wings of a breathtaking, dark angel. He swallowed hard again, nearly choking on his hunger for her. Pure frustration incarnate or not, he wanted this woman with a fury.
He poured two goblets of port and marched over to her. “Here. It is the strongest there is. Tomorrow, I shall order whisky stocked in every room, I grant ye that.”
“Thank ye.”
He took her softer tone as a small victory, but saw her stilted coldness remained. His forcing of the truth had hurt her, shamed her even though she had nothing of which to be ashamed.
He bowed his head in her direction. “I apologize.”
Without taking her gaze from the stars, she said, “Ye dinna have a clue what ye apologize for. I hear it in yer voice.”
He downed his port, set down the glass, then took hers and set it down too. Turning her by the shoulders, he forced her to look him in the eyes. “Aye, I do know. And ye should understand this: I rarely apologize for anything.”
The moonlight revealed the faint ticking of her heartbeat just below the angle of her jaw. He longed to run his lips across it, but didn’t dare. At least, not yet.
“I truly regret upsetting ye,” he said in a low, rasping whisper. “Please forgive me.”
She stared up at him, eyes shining with tears that shamed him. But at least her hatred and scorn seemed to be gone. Thank the Almighty for that. “I am sorry too,” she said.
