Rarely had Dani been so glad to be interrupted by someone.
“I’m no badgering, Colm. Only asking a logical question of the woman who is to be my sister.”
“And what makes you think that’s the case? Have I told you as much? No. Have I done anything to make you think it’s so? No.”
As he finished speaking, Malcolm grasped Dani’s hand and brought it to his mouth, capturing the morsel of food she held between her thumb and forefinger, even as his eyes captured and held hers.
His lips were soft against her fingers and his breath was warm where it feathered over her skin. Warm enough as he lingered over the bite that her own temperature spiked a degree or two. Or ten. Warm enough that she felt the excess heat flood her face.
Her stomach flip-flopped like a novice launching off the high-dive board, landing somewhere close to her ovaries, if the resulting shimmer that felt suspiciously like need was any guide.
“There! You see?” Dermid slammed his tankard to the table like he’d discovered a new planet. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve no idea what yer talking about,” Malcolm replied with a grin, gently releasing the hand he’d held before turning to engage Patrick in a quiet discussion as if nothing at all had just passed between them.
Maybe nothing had.
Dani glanced to her hand, slowly lowering it to the table, feeling as if it were a foreign object. Only when she noticed the obvious tremble did she quickly draw her fingers into a tight fist and move the offending appendage into her lap.
Maybe it was only her.
Damn it!There was no reason for that kind of reaction. Not at all. She didn’t respond to men in that way. Ever. And it certainly wasn’t as if she’d never had guys flirt with her before. They did. All the time. It was a fact of life. And yet, for some strange reason, this one particular man seemed to have the ability to get under her skin like no other.
“You should eat what’s put in front of you, lass. Starving yerself is no way to keep up yer strength.”
Once again she stared up into those intense blue eyes, unable to look away.
Fine. She had no choice but to accept the fact that maybe she couldn’t control how her body reacted to the overbearing Scot. But there was no way in the world she was giving him the satisfaction of knowing she felt that way.
“Perhaps if I had something other than my fingers to eat with,” she grumbled, searching for something, anything, other than his touch as the culprit in her inability to eat.
“You’ve a knife, aye? As we all do. What more could you want?”
“What about a fork?” she answered, warming to her deception. “Like any civilized person would use.”
“A fork,” he repeated, one eyebrow rising. “As you wish, my lady.”
He raised a hand, summoning a young girl to his side. After a short conversation in which, presumably, he instructed the child to fetch a fork, she hurried from the great hall. But not before casting a confused look over her shoulder in Dani’s direction.
Within moments, the girl returned, bringing with her what, at first glance, Dani would have sworn was a long stick. She handed the object to Malcolm, who turned to Dani, placing it on the table between them.
“As you requested, my lady. Perhaps now you will finish yer meal.”
“You’re not serious.”
The two-pronged monstrosity, carved of wood, must have been nearly two feet in length.
Malcolm’s brow wrinkled in obvious irritation, but he held his thoughts private while he tore a small chunk of bread from their shared loaf and dipped it into the stew.
“I dinna question whether or no you were serious in yer desire to have a cook’s tool at the table, did I? No. You asked for a fork and I had one brought to you.”
“I meant that I wanted a dinner fork.” At his questioning frown, she continued. “A miniature version of this. Perhaps the length of your hand. It’s what polite society uses to feed themselves where I come from.”
He nodded as if he considered her argument, then took her breath away by leaning in close enough to whisper in her ear.
“And then you wipe yer mouths upon the parchment, aye? Polite society, my arse. That’s no how we do it here.”
She shivered at the proximity of his lips to her ear, his warm breath trailing down her neck as if his fingers traced across her skin, raising chill bumps in their wake.
