Her indifference ate like acid through his chest. Burning. Aching. Filling him with a wild recklessness. The primitive urge to do something crazed, like press her up against the wall and kiss her until she surrendered to him once more.
He was controlled. Restrained.Different. He didn't have urges like that. But with one cool glance, Anna MacDougall had brought out every barbaric impulse stirring in his blood.
It seemed he'd achieved his objective. His cruel rejection had worked. Ironically, when he no longer wanted her indifference he had it.
Or maybe she'd never been interested in him at all. Maybe it was only about keeping an eye on him.
His mouth tightened and his muscles tensed, more bothered by the thought than he wanted to admit. Unfortunately, his brother was proving unusually perceptive.
Dugald shivered dramatically. "My, it's feeling a little wintry around here. Seems the lass's infatuation is over, little brother. With all the effort you've gone to to discourage her, I thought you'd be happy." He paused to shake his head. "Could it be a woman has finally gotten to you? I didn't think it possible."
Arthur leaned back against the stone wall behind him, projecting a carelessness he didn't feel. She had gotten to him, but he'd be damned if he'd let Dugald know of his weakness. "She's a sweet girl, nothing more."
"Made even sweeter because you can't have her."
Arthur shrugged, taking a long swig ofcuirm, emptying his cup. "What I want from her is not something an innocent young noblewoman can give."
Dugald chuckled and slapped him on the upper arm. "I feel your pain, little brother. I'm experiencing some of it myself. I know a lass whose talented mouth will do much to ease it; I'll send her to you."
Arthur's gaze slid to the dais where Lady Anna had just taken her seat. He was tempted. Damned tempted. But he wasn't interested in one of his brother's women.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry half-smile. "Sharing, brother? It isn't like you. But in this case it isn't necessary. I don't think I'll have any trouble finding my own relief." If he wanted, he had a few women to choose from. The problem was that he didn't want. Them, at least.
Dugald shrugged. "Suit yourself." He leaned over and grinned. "But you don't know what you're missing. The lass could milk a cow dry with her mouth, and she does this thing with her tongue ..."
Dugald's voice faded into the background. The wicked skills proffered by Dugald's jade didn't interest him.
His gaze shifted to the dais.
She interested him, damn it. Though God knows she shouldn't.
But he might as well have been invisible--not once did she look in his direction. He clenched the pewter goblet in his fist, filling it more than once as the meal drew on, his irritation growing with every minute.
His plan to stay close to her side was going to be more difficult than he'd anticipated, but if she thought she could dismiss him so easily, she was bloody well wrong.
He's back.
Anna jerked back the unwelcome tug of yearning in her chest and forced herself not to look at him. Not to think about him.
Sir Arthur wasn't for her. He never had been. Her course was set. She'd made her decision. Her father--her clan--was counting on her. It was too late for regrets or second-guessing, even if seeing him had brought all those unwelcome emotions rushing back.
How could she not have noticed him at first, when now it seemed she could notice no one else? The proud young knight with his dark good looks was the most handsome in the room. And undoubtedly the strongest. Her cheeks heated. One look at his tall, broad-shouldered form and the memories of his naked chest came rushing back. Every sculpted muscle. Every rigid band. Every lean ounce of flesh.
She tried to ignore him, but she could feel his eyes on her as she ate. Or tried to eat. But her mouth was too dry, and the food tasted bland and chalky.
He watched her with a dark intensity that made her want to flee. Which she did at the first opportunity.
Hurrying from the Great Hall with as much ambivalence as she could muster, she ran up the stairs to her tower chamber and started tearing through her ambry, looking for her riding cloak.
She needed to get out of there.
One day. She had to avoid him for only one day, and then she would be gone. They were scheduled to leave for Auldearn Castle, the royal stronghold held by the Earl of Ross in the north, the next morning.
Why couldn't he have stayed away until she was gone? It would have made it so much easier.
She dug frantically through the piles of wool and silk hanging in the ambry, not caring about the mess she was making in her eagerness to escape.
Where was it?
