He stilled, his gaze turning as hard and penetrating as a steel dagger. “What happened to your accent?”
Janet hoped she hadn’t gone as pale as it felt like she had. “What are you talking about?” she replied in her Italian accented French, careful not to overdo it.
But he was like a hunter who’d just trapped a hare and wasn’t about to let go. He took her by the elbow. “What are you hiding, Sister? Who the hell are you?”
Fear rose inside her as those penetrating steel-blue eyes locked on hers. She felt exposed and wanted to run, but had no place to hide. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as the veil she’d erected between them threatened to dissolve. She just wanted him to let her go.
“I’m an innocent maid in the service of the Bishop of St. Andrews whom you almost seduced. That’s all you need to know, and all that matters. Do not attempt to absolve your own guilt by seeing things that aren’t there and making excuses for your own actions.”
Her dagger had drawn blood. He dropped her arm and stepped back. “You are right.”
Janet felt a twist of guilt in her chest, seeing the shame once again on his face, and wanted to reach for him. But she kept her hand firmly planted at her side.It’s better this way, she told herself.
“There is no excuse, and I will not attempt to make one. You have every right to blame me for what happened. You can be assured I will confess my sins at the next opportunity.” His mouth fell in that grim line that she was beginning to find strangely attractive. He gave her a pleading look, which she suspected was rare and didn’t appear to sit very comfortably on his face.
He reached his hand to his head as if he meant to rake his fingers through his hair, but then let it drop. “Look, can’t we just try to forget about this and pretend it never happened? I don’t want there to be any difficulties when we reach Berwick.”
She would like nothing better. But Janet suspected forgetting about it and pretending it had never happened was going to be impossible. Even now, just looking at him, her skin flushed with a new awareness. Passion, desire…lust. Like Pandora, she’d opened the lid and was now tasked with finding a way to put away all those feelings again. But once released, would they ever go back?
She had to try.
Difficulties, he’d said. He was obviously concerned that she’d tell Lamberton what had happened. Janet was about to assure him that she’d rather swallow nails than speak of what had occurred here, when she stopped, considering what else he’d said: Berwick. She hated using his torment against him, but in this case, she told herself it was warranted. She had a job to do.
She nodded. “Confession will ease my mind a great deal. There is a small church in Roxburgh where you can go while I attend to my business in the castle.”
“We aren’t going to Roxburgh. Berwick will be soon enough.”
“Not for me. Besides, if I return to Berwick having failed to bring back those sugared nuts, the bishop might wonder why, and I will have to give him an explanation.” They both knew she wasn’t talking about nuts. “It is no more than a half-mile away. Please, I will be careful, and there is no cause to think there will be any danger. I’ve done thishundredsof times.”
Her gentle teasing and attempt to ease the tension between them elicited nary a flicker of a smile. Ewen wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
He knew what she was trying to do—use his guilt against him—but was too damned angry with himself and wracked with shame to find the energy to put up a fight. Or maybe he just didn’t trust himself to have another argument with her. He was still reeling after what had just happened. By how thoroughly he’d lost control, and how quickly a kiss had dissolved into so much more.
How could he have forgotten himself like that? His father was the one who took what he wanted. Ewen had much more discipline than that—usually.
It had been easy, he realized. She’d responded with an openness and eagerness that made it easy to forget she was untouchable.
He wasn’t the only one who’d sinned. She might not want to admit it—and he was (just) gallant enough not to point it out—but she’d wanted him as badly as he’d wanted her.
“Please,” she repeated. “It won’t take any more than an hour, and then we can be on our way.”
Ewen stared down at that pale upturned face, at the wide blue-green eyes, the pink lips still swollen from his kiss, and the classically arranged delicate features, and felt something shift in his chest.
He was going to give in, damn her. They would go to Roxburgh. It was his guilt, he told himself. It wasn’t that he would give her anything she wanted when she looked at him like that.
“I think you missed your calling, Sister.”
She blinked at him in confusion, her long, feathery lashes fluttering like a raven’s wing. He had to steel himself against the sudden gripping in his chest, but she was so damned beautiful it hurt. “What do you mean?”
“You should have been a lawman.”
He watched as understanding that she’d won dawned on her features, and thought that no morning, no glint of sun upon the land, could have been as beautiful. “Thank you.”
Ewen held her gaze for a moment, but then forced himself to turn away with a gruff nod.
Guilt might have given her what she wanted this time, but he wasn’t going to let her manipulate him again. He needed to finish this and get back to the business of winning this war and seeing to his clan’s future. Getting as far away as possible from Sister Genna had become his first priority. To Ewen’s mind, they couldn’t reach Berwick soon enough.
Seven
