And the dialogue in her head was becoming inane.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Why not?”
CHAPTER 6
For an instant, Broc didn’t believe his ears. He screwed his face at her. “What do you mean why not?”
She seemed to think about her question a moment and then rephrased it. “Just what do you intend to do with me if you don’t mean to ransom me, kill me or rape me?”
Her question amused him, though it shouldn’t have. Broc tried not to laugh.
The shudder of her delicate shoulders told him she was frightened, but she was hardly cowering before him this moment, and he couldn’t help but respect her for standing up to him. She stood as though demanding his explanation, and he had a sudden ridiculous notion to kiss her.
When was the last time he had even thought about kissing a woman? Other than a distant affection he held for Page, he damned well couldn’t remember.
He stared at her, trying to deny the thought, but it had already escaped. And like a wild horse fled from a barn, it refused to return from whence it came.
He damned well wanted to kiss her.
He set the candle down upon the table and watchedthe play of its golden light upon her body. Like a goddess she stood proudly before him and he couldn’t remember a woman ever looking so deliciously exotic, so purely feminine.
She was tall but lean with the most perfect curves he had ever imagined running his hands over—full breasts that beckoned to his palms, a tiny waist that made him want to test its girth with his fingers, full hips that teased a man’s imagination, long legs that made him yearn to feel them wrapped about his neck.
His mouth went dry as he admired her.
He wondered idly what she tasted like.
Mayhap not so idly.
He tried to recall himself, but couldn’t keep from imagining those sweet lips upon his own, soft and full. They were lips made for loving a man and he wondered what they would feel like wandering his body.
Christ.
He pushed away his lustful thoughts, swallowing at the sudden thickness in his throat. Dutifully, he ignored the stirring in his loins.
“I tried to explain already, but ye wouldna listen.”
She said nothing, merely cocked her head at him, and he assured her at once, “Your brother is fine, lass. You have my word.”
He could tell that she wanted to believe him. Her eyes pleaded with him.
“I truly mean you no harm.”
Still she listened, though her expression was dubious still, and he was grateful for the opportunity to finally explain. He wanted to help if he could. “I took ye only because I believed you to be in danger.”
She lifted her chin, challenging him. “Fie! I see the way you look at me!”
He tensed at her insinuation. “How is that?”
For an instant, she didn’t speak, merely glared at him.
“As though you want me, and do not deny it!”
Anger flashed through him. He had done nothing but try to help her and she dared to question his honor—or mayhap because she spoke the truth and was looking at him now as though he were somehow beneath her.
He reached out before he could stop himself, seizing her by the arm, jerking her against him, glaring down into her face.
“I see—because I’m a barbarian Scot I cannot control myself, is that right?” He wanted her to feel the hardness of his body, wanted her to know that he had been this way from the instant he had spied her. He wanted her to understand how long he had managed to restrain himself.
