A conversation that was making his blood churn hotter and hotter, which to Eoin’s already on-edge state was like tossing oil on a roaring fire. What the hell was she doing? Didn’t she know that standing so close to Comyn like that, lifting her mouth to his, and telling him she wished he’d been the one about to kiss her was practically an invitation for him to do just that?
When the pup accepted, putting his hand on her chin and tilting her mouth to his, Eoin had felt a primitive swell of emotion unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. All he could see was red. His chest burned, his muscles flexed, and every instinct he possessed clamored to put his fist through the young lord’s mouth for touching her.
But his anger wasn’t reserved just for the lad. If anything, what he felt toward theladywas far worse. If he didn’t know that she’d felt exactly what he did during that dance maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But she had. And somehow, rational or not—forgetting that minutes before she’d entered the room he’d been denying the whole thing—it stung like a betrayal.
How much longer he would have been able to hold himself back, he didn’t know. But he did know the moment she realized they were not alone.
Comyn mistook the startled gasp and sudden loss of color in her cheeks for maidenly shock at the kiss, which in Eoin’s present state of mind, he thought, was ironic.
Maybe Fin was right. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing when she looked at Eoin like that. “I’d give her exactly what she was asking for and swive her senseless.”
Right now he was wondering what was stopping him.
“I probably should apologize,” Comyn said upon stepping back.
She shot an anxious glance in Eoin’s direction and quickly turned back to the lad, obviously distracted. “For what?”
“For taking advantage of your innocence like that.”
Eoin saw a small frown gather between her brows before she seemed to realize what he meant. “Ah, yes, of course, the kiss.” She bit her lip, and shifted her gaze down. “I think it’s best if you leave now. It would not do for us to be discovered like this.”
If Eoin heard the slight inflection in her voice, signifying a question, Comyn did not.
“You’re right.” He smiled. “Although maybe it would be easier if we were.”
She frowned again, clearly not understanding. But Eoin did. The lad was obviously aware of his father’s sentiments and looking for a way around them. Being caught in a compromising situation could suffice.
Although Comyn was not yet a knight, he had all the honor and nobility of one. Eoin, on the other hand, wasn’t a knight and had no pretense of wanting to be to keep him in check.
With a short bow, Comyn left the room. As soon as she closed the door after him, Lady Margaret turned around and folded her arms across her chest. “I know you are there, you might as well come out.”
She made it sound as if he were a bairn hiding or purposefully lingering in the shadows to spy on them. Neither of which were true, damn it. He’d just been sitting there when she’d come bursting into the room and headed straight for the brandy. But somehow, the lass had managed to put him on the defensive.
Though she wouldn’t have been able to see his face from where he was seated with his back to the stone wall of the alcove, she didn’t look surprised to see that it was him when he stood.
“Had I known what I would be interrupting, I would have made my presence known sooner.”
“You speak!” she said with mock surprise. “I wasn’t sure if dark, brooding stares were the extent of your communication skills.”
Handful.
His eyes bit into hers unrelentingly. “I didn’t realize we had anything to say.”
She held his stare for a long moment before turning away. “Perhaps you are right.”
Her voice held a note of sadness that made something inside him tug. Hard.
He should have left. He should have taken the opening she’d given him and walked away. Instead, he crossed the distance between them in a few strides. The soft scent of flowers that he’d noticed during their dance taunted his senses. But he was still too angry to heed caution. “Comyn isn’t for you.”
She lifted her brows, obviously taken aback by the adamancy of his tone. “You sound very certain of that.”
He was trying to protect her, damn it. Badenoch would never let his son marry her. “I am. And letting him take liberties won’t change anything.”
“Liberties?” Her brows drew together. “You mean that kiss?” She laughed. “Lud, that hardly signifies.”
He didn’t know whether it was the laugh or the way she dismissed it as nothing that fanned the flames of his anger like a smith’s bellows. “And you are so experienced as to know the difference?”
Something in his tone made her eyes narrow. “Have you never kissed a woman, my lord?”
