Her mouth flattened in a stubborn line he recognized only too well, as he’d been seeing it since she was six. “My betrothal has nothing to do with you and me.”
The muscles in his neck were drawn so tight he could feel them twitching. “I think your soon-to-be betrothed might disagree. I suspect he’d be very interested in what happened between ‘you and me’ in the kitchens.”
She flushed guiltily, but then straightened her spine. “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
The fact that he agreed didn’t make it any easier to hear. He clenched his fists at his sides so he wouldn’t be tempted to draw her back into his arms and wipe that haughty purse off her mouth.
“And the fact that you like when I touch you? Does that have nothing to do with him either?”
His voice was huskier than he intended. The damned warm air in the stable was getting to him—as was the soft scent rising up from her hair. She always smelled so good.
But the warm sensations fired by her closeness were quickly banished by her next words. “Why should it? I’m certain I shall like it when he touches me as well.”
Thom didn’t think he’d ever moved that fast. He spun her around and had her backed up against the wall in seconds flat. With his hands planted on either side of her head, he leaned in threateningly. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
She glared at him, her eyes spitting blue sparks. If he’d been trying to intimidate her, it clearly hadn’t worked. He was one of the biggest, strongest men in camp, and she pushed him back with one dainty finger on his chest. Christ.
“Why shouldn’t I? Now that I know what to expect, I imagine it will be even more pleasant. From what I’ve heard, he’s had enough practice.”
Could a head explode twice? His was certainly in danger of doing so. He could feel the hot pressure pounding in his skull. “It’s that simple, is it? Now that you’ve experienced passion, it’s all the same, is that it? It doesn’t matter who is touching you?”
“No, of course not!” She frowned. “Why are you always trying to confuse me and put words in my mouth? I just meant there was no reason to think I won’t enjoy—”
“Don’t say it,” he warned darkly, his mouth only inches from hers. If he heard one more word about her and Randolph, he was going to forget every vow, every promise he’d made to himself not to touch her again.
He knew it was her innocence speaking—that she’d convinced herself that what had happened between them wasn’t anything special. Just as he knew that what had exploded between them, what had made a kiss descend into nearly mindless passion in a matter of minutes, was a rare gift. Butknowingdidn’t make it any easier to hear.
Wisely, she closed her mouth. She must have realized how close he’d been to kissing her, because this time when she edged away, she eyed him cagily.
Slowly the rush of blood surging through his veins stopped pounding and his pulse returned to normal. Air—as opposed to fire—was once more blowing in and out of his lungs.
“I don’t want you to hate me, Thom,” she said in a small voice. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know—and I don’t.” It would be infinitely easier if he did.
She brightened, and the pure radiance of her smile was like a beam of sunlight streaming through his chest.
The ice that had been encased around his heart for three years began to melt, and God help him, he didn’t know how to make it stop.
13
IT DIDN’T TAKEELIZABETHlong to realize what Joanna was up to—her sister-in-law would never be characterized as subtle.
The slighted walls of the once great Roxburgh Castle were still visible on the horizon behind them when Joanna caught sight of Thom riding by with a few of Bruce’s secret warriors and called him over under the pretext of introducing him to Izzie. The exchange would have been brief had Joanna not proceeded to regale her cousin with a seemingly endless stream of tales from their youth. “Oh, Thom, you must tell her about...” and “Elizabeth, don’t you remember when...?” were uttered so many times she lost count.
She might have been grateful—the time forced riding together eased a great deal of the lingering awkwardness between her and Thom—were it not for her kinswoman’s reaction. Her pretty cousin, who was as clear-eyed, hard to impress, and seemingly impervious to charm as any young woman of her acquaintance, was utterly and completely dazzled.
Thom was barely out of earshot (after he was called away by Tor MacLeod and Joanna finally had to let him go—apparently even Joanna hesitated to defy the intimidating Island chief), when Izzie turned to her accusingly. “Good, gracious!Thatis your smithy’s son?”
Elizabeth glared at her. “He is not my—”
“You neglected to mention that he is jaw-droppingly gorgeous.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, not quite sure why she was so annoyed by the observation. Was it because it had taken her so long to realize the same thing? “I hadn’t noticed,” she grumbled.
Izzie looked at her as if she must be blind—something that Elizabeth was beginning to wonder herself. But her eyes had been opened. They werewideopen, blast it.
Fortunately, her cousin shifted her attention to Joanna. “My God, those eyes—those unbelievablyblueeyes—contrasted against that black, wavy hair.” She sighed dreamily.
