“I suggest you take the letter out of the envelope and read it so that I can take your answer back to the man who’s waiting in the inn,” she encouraged.
Ranulf’s head tilted slightly as he studied her with those deep green eyes.
For a second or two, just a brief moment, Sephie could have sworn she saw glints of silver flames flash in their depths.Which was ridiculous.Eyes of any color didn’t have something as ridiculous as silver flames glinting in them.
“How could you possibly know I would be walking through the village at this time of day and so be available to deliver the letter to?”
Sephie felt the heat bloom in her cheeks.“I’ve seen you walking to the shop or just through the village most days at this time.”
His eyebrows rose.“You have?”
She avoided meeting his gaze.“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
She kept her lashes lowered.“Is it?”
“To me?Very.”
“Why?”
“It just is,” he dismissed.“But you also shared my habit with whoever wrote this note?”
“Yes, and I’m really sorry I did.”
“You have yet to tell me your name.”
To Sephie’s chagrin, he’d still made no effort to open the envelope and read the note inside.“Sephie.It’s Persephone, really.Persephone Malcolm.But I prefer just Sephie.”
He tilted his head as he studied her more closely.“The queen of the Underworld.”
Her mouth twisted.“I prefer her other title, the goddess of spring.”
“Is that why you smell like strawberries and colored your hair the same pink as wild roses?”
Her hand lifted to self-consciously touch those shoulder-length pink tresses visible beneath the blue woolen hat she was wearing.Along with a puffy knee-length coat in the same color that had looked good when she bought it in Oxford, but which really wasn’t doing very much to keep out the icy cold weather that she had quickly learned was normal for the Scottish Highlands in winter.
She had no idea how Ranulf managed to look so unconcerned by the coldness, considering he was only wearing a leather jacket over a T-shirt.
“I’m not wearing any perfume, least of all one that smells like strawberries.”She frowned.“You don’t like my hair this color?”
“Am I right in thinking that its natural color is what is called strawberry blonde?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, as if she had confirmed something relevant to him.“I don’t think my liking or disliking the color of your hair is of any importance, do you?”he dismissed.
The throbbing heat between her thighs began to fade, and her hand dropped back to her side as embarrassed heat suffused her cheeks.
What the hell was wrong with her?Even her body knew thiswasn’tthe time to feel so aroused by the man she found so dangerously attractive.
Dangerous?
Well, yes.Because, as well as knowing of her uncharacteristic reaction to this man, she had also very quickly realized there was something feral about Ranulf and his two brothers.A wildness inside them, despite their aura of control, that seemed to be lurking just below the surface of their otherwise civilized appearance and behavior.
Right now, it felt as if that something was looking at herthroughthose dark green eyes rather than with them.
Which, she told herself, was utterly ridiculous, even as the disquieting feeling persisted.
