She opened her eyes and focused on an early wildflower blooming just in front of her, crushed by her own footstep when she’d first arrived in this place. The delicate weed had struggled to make its way here, alone in the forest, constantly pushed aside by the larger plants, wanting nothing more than a bit of sun and rain. It had needed so little to live.
It had needed to be left alone.
There was only one choice open to her. Robbie had to go, even if it meant driving him away.
That should be an easy enough task for her. When she was younger, Auld Annie, the cook who’d looked after her, had always said her bad attitude could force the saints themselves to run away in terror.
That was it, then.
Her decision made, she looked up to find Robbie had moved to deeper water, his gaze fixed directly on the spot where she hid.
Bollocks.
She was caught.
She rubbed her damp hands down the front of her apron and stood up, defiantly jamming her hands onto her hips.
“And what do you think yer doing out here?” she demanded.
“I might ask you same, missy. I wondered how long you planned to spy on me before showing yerself.”
Isa felt the red heat crawling up her neck and onto her face. That would never do! Better to attack and take him off his track.
“Plan? I have no plan. I’m no spying. It’s only my disbelief of yer rude behavior that kept me here. Splashing about with yer dirty self, fouling up the water I use for cooking my food, the water I drink.”
She paused for a breath, surprised to see him headed toward her, a smile growing on his face. A few more steps and he’d reach the shallows!
“What are you doing?” she screeched, oblivious to the fact that she repeated her earlier words.
“I thought you wanted me out of yer water. I’m getting out.”
He took another step, his smile so broad now it danced in his eyes, and she wondered if he’d be bold enough to keep going.
Two could play the game of dares if he liked. She was every bit as stubborn as he could be, if that was what it came down to.
“That’s exactly what I want.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.
When he took the next step, she felt her knees weaken.
The dark waters swirled below his waist and her eyes fastened on the enticing trail of hair that moved down his abdomen and disappeared into the lapping waves.
The water flowed up as he pushed forward yet again, and her hands dropped to knot in her apron at her sides. Anything to keep from reaching out to touch him as he drew near.
The waves that had flowed up as he moved now withdrew, caressing his skin like silver fingers as they fled away, exposing all of him. She turned her back as quickly as she could, but not so quickly she missed one last look at the whole of the man.
Her blood pounded in her ears and her face flamed, even as low in her belly she felt a matching burn.
Lo, but he was a beauty.
When, a moment later, his warm breath tickled her cheek, she lurched forward—and would have fallen had he not grabbed her arm.
“A word of advice, my lady. I excel at poker. I’m no a man to walk away from a bluff. Never point a weapon if you dinna intend to fire it.”
“I’ve no need for any of yer so-called advice.” As if she needed him to tell her what to do. As if what he told her made even the least bit of sense. “Everything I do I do with a reason.”
“Is that so?” He leaned in closer. “Then perhaps yer real reason for standing so long in trees was that you wanted to join me in the pool?”
“Hardly!” She jerked her arm from his fingers and stepped a pace away, all too aware of the heat his body gave off, even as water dripped from his hair, forging a cold trail down the side of her neck. “Now get away from me, you great oaf. Yer getting me wet.”
