As he slid the soft leather of the shoe onto her foot, he gave her the sort of smile that made it clear he could undress her even more easily if she would only allow it. He barely touched the back of her leg, massaging her calf, his fingertips leaving a burning trail through the thin layer of the silky stockings.
With his eyes never leaving hers, he gently lowered that foot to the floor and slid his hand in a soft caress along the top of her other foot.
She wet her lips and struggled not to pant. This was so not fair for him to have such an effect on her. His smug smile helped her battle her way out of the haze of his mesmerizing touch. He treated her to another delicious massage before placing the slipper on her foot and securing the ties. Once he finished, she pulled her foot out of his hand and placed it on the floor, primly beside the other one.“Thank you. Now, why don’t you eat something while I brush my hair? As you can see, there is more than enough food.”
He leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her on the bench while bringing his face closer to hers.She swallowed hard as he held his mouth within a hair’s breadth of hers. “I am not hungry for food, lass. Let me tend to yer hair, and then I shall take ye on the tour I promised. And dinna worry. I intend tokeep ye close. For yer own safety, of course. A woman as lovely as yerself must be cherished and protected at all times—and I am the man to do it.”
She swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe, battling with the urge to lean into him and give over to whatever he wanted. She couldn’t. Not under any circumstances. Not until she figured out how she fit into the strangeness that had become her life. She pushed him back and placed one of her feet on the ground between his knees while slowly digging her thumbs into the soft indentations just above his collarbone. “Sweet words, MacKay. But you will find I am not some helpless wench bowled over by empty promises.”
He surprised her by curling his lips to one side in a self-assured smirk, then bowed his head and lifted his hands while leaning back to free her. “Ye will find I never make empty promises, Harley—and I would never err by considering ye helpless.”
She rose and jutted her chin in the air, then pushed past him, went to the dressing table, snatched up the brush, and started yanking it through her tangled hair. How dare he treat her like some female that only existed to melt in his arms. She’d made the mistake of being vulnerable once. Never would she go down that road again—especially not in fifteenth-century Scotland.She had more important matters than dabbling withmento attend to here.
Silent as a shadow, he was suddenly beside her, taking the brush out of her hand. “Nay, lass. Such beautiful hair should never be treated in such a manner. Allow me.” He gently took her by the arm and led her to a cushioned stool. “Close yer eyes, Harley. Relax. Ye should know by now that I mean ye no harm.”
She knew he meant her no harm, but in a way—he did. He had such apullto him. It wasn’t just his dark good looks, either. There was something in his eyes, something unspoken in his words,somethingabout him that made her realize she could forgive him a multitude of sins and would delightfully help him commit even more. She cleared her throat, painfully aware that her increased heart rate and rapid breathing were probably quite visible by the riseand fall of her exposed chest. “I’m not tender headed. Sometimes, it snarls so badly you just have to rip it out.”
He leaned in close, the warmth of his breath tickling her ear. “Leave it to me, lass,” he said softly. “Close yer eyes.”
After a deep breath, she shut her eyes and gave over to the gentleness of his touch. The rhythmic shushing of the brush as he ran it across her tresses hypnotized her. “You are quite good at this. Do it often?” She figured he used this method whenever he was in port seducing women.
“Aye, lass,” he said with a humorous lilt to his tone. “Every day.”
She opened her eyes and lifted both brows. “Everyday?”
He chuckled as he pulled her hair back from her face and started plaiting it. “When we visit the stables, I shall introduce ye to Enbarr. Ye will see what a fine mane and tail he has because I ensure they are well brushed daily. His hair is almost as lovely as yers.”
Without moving her head, she rolled her eyes. He had just compared her to his horse.
He stepped away, gathered up more items from the dressing table, then returned to stand behind her. “These combs will hold this fine braid in a coil to the back of yer head and make everyone see ye as the regal lady that ye are.”
Rendered speechless at such a compliment, she struggled to think of something to say, but only came up with a weak, “Thank you.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, leaned over her again, and brushed the most seductive of kisses to the side of her neck. “Thank ye for allowing me to attend to ye, m’lady.” The intoxicating softness of his deep voice caressed her senses.
She drew in a shuddering breath and pressed a hand to her flaming chest that she felt certain mirrored her burning cheeks. Time to escape before she did something she regretted. She skittered away from him and went to the door. “Now that you have me ready—” She inwardly cringed at her choice of words. “Let’s go.”
Ronan smiled, joined her at the door, and offered his arm. The look in his eyes almost dared her to take it.
Far be it from her to back down from a dare. She ground her teethtogether and fought to get a handle on both her irritation and fascination with him. She hooked her arm through his, reminding herself she only had to play this game until she was sure of herself and able to survive. Besides, maybe while he was showing her around, they’d pass a short wall she could shove him over. She didn’t want him dead—just bounced around a little and put in his place for all the complicated feelings he had no right setting ablaze inside her.
CHAPTER 11
Ronan escorted Harley everywhere she wished to go in the keep, showed her everything she expressed an interest in, from the kitchens—both outdoor and indoor—to the laundry, the dovecote, the guardhouse, the armory, and everything in between. And the more servants, craftsmen, and various members of the clan she met, the more possessive of her he became. She failed to notice the impression she made upon those she spoke with, but he didn’t. He tucked her closer to his side. All had better realize this beautiful woman was not to be approached with any intentions other than innocent and honorable ones.
“You don’t have to hold me so close,” she told him as they left the guardhouse and crossed the bailey. “I’m not light-headed like I was yesterday.”
He didn’t relax his hold of her in the least. “I enjoy holding ye close.” The loveliness of her blush deepened once again. He prided himself on keeping that color high on her cheeks. The deeper the color, the stronger her emotion, and it was her emotions he wanted to stir the same way in which she stirred his.
With a proud tip of his head, he motioned at the next structure. “And here we have the fine stables of Clan MacKay. Do ye ride?” Heremembered his mother once saying she had never been near a horse before traveling back to the past.
Harley inhaled a deep breath, as if the pungent scent of the stables was the sweetest fragrance she had ever encountered. “Hay, horses, and well-oiled leather,” she said in a hollow tone. “Reminds me of home.” She went to the first stall and a roan mare poked an inquisitive nose over the low slung gate. A sadness came over her as the mare quietly whickered a greeting and nudged her hand. “I rode horses almost before I learned to walk. My parents owned a stable for many years before they decided to retire and take to the open road on their bikes.” Her eyes took on the troublesome sheen of tears barely held at bay, and she flinched a shrug. “I wonder if they know I’m gone yet. They’ll go crazy with worry when they can’t find me.” She cleared her throat and turned her back to him. “This is quite a stable. Do all of these horses belong to your family?”
Ronan stifled an irritated growl at himself. He was a damned fool. Bringing her to the stables had been a mistake. It had stirred her worries about the life she could no longer have. He would answer her question, then they would leave. “Most of the horses belong to my father and brothers. Neither Mother nor Aveline ever cared much about riding.” He gently took hold of her arm and turned her back to face him. “Come, lass. We will go. Forgive me for rubbing salt in yer wounds. I swear ’twas not my intent.”
She gave him a forced smile, then her eyes flared wide and her hand flew to her throat. “It can’t be,” she said, then pointed a trembling finger at a man who had just emerged from one of the stalls. All the color drained from her. Her lips moved, but no more words came out.
“Harley!” Ronan caught her as she swayed to one side. “What is it?”
