Isabella held up a hand to stop him. “I cannot promise his assistance.”
“I understand.”
Her eyes flashed. “And I ask for something from you in return.”
“Anything.” He meant it.
Isabella took a step closer and tilted her face up to his. “I want you to kiss me.”
Chapter Ten
Perchance the blowto her head had muddled her thinking, but in that moment, Isabella felt she had never been more certain of anything in her life.
She was using what power she had, whilst she still had it.
Minutes earlier, sitting on the hearth rug with her eyes closed, it had occurred to her that she had never once been kissed by a young, vigorous and healthy man.
And never had she wanted such a kiss as much as she did now. There was something about the raw combination of roughness and sensitivity in Hamish that she found impossible to resist. It was in the wildness of his half-braided hair and the calm intelligence of his blue gaze; the hard muscle of his arms and shoulders, along with the compassion that oft showed in his voice.
But his voice held no compassion now. “You want me to kiss you?” he repeated.
At first, she thought him angry. Then she realized that it was desire that brought such a throaty edge to the question.
Desire which answered that same emotion thrumming inside her very core.
“Aye.” She held his gaze unflinchingly.
“Is this a trick?” Uncertainty flickered in his blue eyes, but he wanted her. She had known it as soon as he put his hand over hers by the fire. His touch was gentle, but it still sent rivers of warmth surging up her arm.
She stepped closer, tilting her face so her breath mingled with his. “’Tis no trick. Does the notion of kissing me seem so strange?”
A pulse flickered in his strong jaw. Isabella resisted the urge to reach up and touch his stubbled chin. He was a bear of a man, who could overpower her in an instant.
“Ye must ken ye are a beautiful woman, Isabella. Ye must ken that I would willingly kiss ye.” His gaze lowered to her lips, which she instinctively parted. But still he hesitated.
“I know naught of this, when I ask for something so small but you deny me,” she breathed.
His eyes fluttered closed and for a moment she admired the upward sweep of his thick eyelashes, but the next moment his lips pressed against hers, and Isabella forgot all else. His mouth was soft and firm at the same time. His hands rested lightly on her waist and drew her closer, so her slight body came against his vast wall of muscle. Nerves jangled in her arms and legs, not with fear but with excitement.
And then he pulled away.
“One kiss,” he whispered. “As requested.”
But Isabella wanted more, like a child standing before a tray of cakes recently drawn from the oven. Why stop at one?
“’Twas a very small kiss,” she whispered back.
His lips quivered. Those same lips that had recently been pressed against hers. “As you stipulated, my lady.”
She shook her head. “I knew not what I asked.”
“Ah.” Hamish slowly returned his hands to her waist and very gently caressed her. “But now you know better?”
“A little better.” She tipped back her head and smiled. Was she flirting? Was this wise? She hardly knew and certainly did not care. Her husband, bless his soul, had never ignited such fires inside her. Had never made her long for the feel of his hands upon her flesh.
Ye Gods. She wanted so much more than just a kiss from Hamish.
As if conscious of her thoughts, he ran his fingers lightly along her spine so she arched her back with pleasure. His hand travelled back down again and settled about her hips. His blue eyes gazed into hers, seemingly looking straight into her soul.
