Ian raised a brow. He knew exactly what he would have asked for. And her lips on his would have been the sweetest prize of all.
Rhiannon gasped. “I can see what you’re thinking.”
“I assure ye, ye canna.”
She laughed. “Oh, but it was written quite plainly on your face.”
Since when had he displayed his desires too plainly? Ian prized himself on having a face that gave away nothing of his feelings, and now this woman could read his thoughts. Impossible.
“What was I thinking then?”
“Oh, I couldn’t say.” She ducked her head, pretending to be scandalized, for he was certain this lass didn’t have a shy bone in her body.
“I want to hear it.”
“You would.” She snickered.
“Aye, that’s what I said.”
“Well, then, if you insist.”
“I do.” God, he wanted to hear her say it. Every inch of his skin reached forward as if he could elicit the words from her throat.
“You were thinking that you’d ask for the best prize of all—the chance for Goosie to be in your saddlebag because you are so incredibly jealous that I get to have this momentous moment with my cat, and you’ve always wished that you had a cat for a companion.” She ended with a laugh that could have made flowers bloom.
Ian’s mouth fell open. The lass had quite an imagination, and by the way she looked at him with humor glittering in her eyes, he knew she was teasing him too. Mercilessly.
But he decided to play along with her because why not?
“I canna believe ye found me out. I have indeed always wanted a cat for a companion, and watching ye ride with Goosie so comfortable in her new lodgings, the wee thing’s head popping out of the top of the saddlebag, did indeed put me into a jealous fit of rage as I watched. I am filled with sorrow as I’ve no’ had that experience yet in all my days.”
Rhiannon’s head fell back as she laughed, making his body hum with desire. And he’d been the one to make it happen. Saints, but she was stunning.
“How about this, my laird,” she teased, “the moment you beat me at a race, we will transfer the kitty bag, no questions asked.”
“We have an accord, my lady.” Ian held out his arm to shake on it.
Rhiannon stared for a minute, then reached out, her palm sliding over his as she gripped his forearm with a strength he’d not expected. Her touch sent shivers up his arm, and he wished he could make them stop.
Her gaze met his, and he could only think that she must have felt it too.
They rode on in silence after that, each alert to the sounds of the road and taking it slow when more hiding places than clear pathways appeared. But as day turned to night again, they had yet to come across a single enemy. Not wanting to test their good fortune, Ian decided they should make camp.
He led her into the woods, deep enough away from the road they wouldn’t be seen but not far enough away that he might not hear someone approaching. They set up a makeshift camp, burning a fire only long enough to cook the squirrels they caught. Then he stomped it out so they might get some sleep. They were lucky the scent and sight of the smoke hadn’t yet drawn anyone to their position. But as Rhiannon rose from the fire, she wobbled and fell against him.
Without hesitation, Ian caught her in his arms, the weight and warmth of her exactly as he’d guessed it would feel. And he let her sink against him, her bottom fully on his lap, her arms rising around his shoulders to balance herself. Her breasts pressed to his chest. The weight of her against him, the softness of her body, made it hard to breathe.
“Oh, thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. My foot must have fallen asleep while we sat here. When I stood up, it was all numb.”
“Is it awake now?” he murmured, staring down the length of her skirts.
“I think so.” Rhiannon lifted a leg, twirling her ankle about.
The hem of her skirt fell back slightly, revealing more of her boot and causing Ian to stiffen as the urge to take her boot off had him gritting his teeth. Again, those damning questions were in his mind. What would it be like if he allowed himself a little leeway? What would a life with a woman like Rhiannon—nay, not like, but the woman herself—be like? Was a kiss, was more, worth breaking his vow of bachelorhood?
“I can feel my toes again,” she said softly, her eyes wide as she stared at him questioningly.
But neither of them moved. He didn’t want to let her go, and she didn’t seem in a hurry to stand.
