He was shunning her, albeit for her own good.
“ ’Tis true I stayed away of a purpose this e’en,” he admitted, frustration and remorse crowding him, making him speak as true as he deemed wise.
“Even so” — he strove for his most persuasive tone — “I had naught to do with the shambles you found upon entering this chamber.”
Naught save having wished her gone.
A departure he’d still greet with gladness.
But a regret that made him release her as quickly as if she’d turned into a writhing, two- headed viper, eager to sink venomous fangs into him.
He choked back a bark of bitter laughter.
Hewas the carrier of poison.
He paused.
The room’s increasing cold circled up his legs and higher, snaking ever tighter around his chest until he could scarce breathe.
“I suspect,” he began, using a strength born of long practice, “that your arrival has stirred whate’er of Maldred’s malignancy yet lingers.”
Lady Gelis waved an airy hand.
“ ’Tis common knowledge there’s a touch of darkness in every clan and glen in all broad Scotland,” she returned, leaning close again. “The sweetest glade gives way to the blackest peat bogs and some of our bonniest lochs are said to be the haunts of the most ferocious water horses and bulls.”
She drew a great breath, making her breasts swell. “Even my own fair Kintail is no stranger to ill-wishing and the evil eye! Many are the tales — would you care to hear some of them?”
Ronan sidestepped her, taking up a stance beside the hearth fire.
“Glen Dare’s darkness is different, my lady.”
She swung in his direction. “Perhaps not when viewed from another angle. My father says Robert Bruce once told him that any trap can be sprung — any ambush averted — if a man uses his wits and the land to best advantage.”
Ronan’s brows drew together.
She had him there. He wasn’t about to argue with the wisdom of Scotland’s greatest king.
Even so, he’d spoken the truth.
Leastways as much of Dare’s sad truths as he wished to share with her.
Unfortunately, she looked anything but satisfied.
She looked ready to clamp her fist around his heart and squeeze hard until he revealed all his secrets.
Her every curve beckoned and enticed. The sweet tilt of her lips, plump and reddened, begged for kisses. And one of her braids was coming undone, leaving a welter of rippling, unruly red-gold curls to spill over her breasts, so tantalizingly displayed above her gown’s deep-dipping bodice.
Ronan’s jaw locked and his hands clenched at his sides.
His deepest self ached for her, filling him with a need that bordered on feral. He swallowed hard, his entire body tense and his heart thundering. Hot blood roared in his ears, blotting even the fierce howl of the wind.
Ne’er had he seen a more desirable female.
And ne’er had he wanted one less.
Even if the shunning of her would haunt him all his days.
So the lad wanted her.
