Her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t believe him. “And what thought was that?”
“That you can’t talk and kiss at the same time.”
Her face turned bright pink. “You are a knave.”
“Aye, to the core of my rotted soul.”
Her gaze turned gentle, warm. “It really isn’t proper for me to be out here with you like this.”
Her gaze ran over his body, making him harden in lustful need to touch her. “My mother would be quite scandalized.”
“Your father would be furious.”
“Aye, he would. No doubt he’d want your head.”
“No doubt.”
She cleared her throat and turned around. She took three steps, then stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. “Oh and Ewan?”
“Aye?”
“You kiss very nicely.”
Bemused, Ewan watched her leave.
You kiss very nicely. The words rang in his head and brought an odd wave of arrogant pride to him.
Why that was so, he couldn’t imagine. All he knew was that he had an overwhelming urge to follow after her, scoop her up in his arms and see if she was so bold and outspoken in the privacy of his bed.
And on the heels of that thought came another, much more painful one.
He would never know.
A man who had caused the death of his brother and best friend didn’t deserve a woman like her.
He deserved nothing at all.
And nothing was all he would ever have. He owed that much to Kieran.
Four
Catarina paused by the fire as she listened to the three men plotting their attack against Ewan MacAllister.
Viktor, who was the closest thing to a father she had ever known, held an old tattered bag in his left hand. It was a bag she had repaired earlier that day. “I say we attack him from behind. Bavel, take this sack. We toss it over his head and conk him right on the noggin.”
Bavel nodded in agreement. Not much taller than her, Bavel was the musician of their clan. At a score and a half in age, he was only three years older that she, with black hair and flashing black eyes. He was a handsome man who had always been like a brother to her.
“I can use my hammer and we can have him in the wagon in a matter of minutes,” Lysander added.
“Or the lot of you could kill him,” Cat said, joining their discussion.
She looked at each man in turn. Viktor’s tired gray eyes held an uncommon spark to them while Lysander’s green ones glinted in anticipation. Bavel looked away shamed-faced.
“What do you know of it, woman?” Lysander said. “‘Tis men’s business you’re interrupting.”
“Oh aye,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Murder most often is, but if you’ll recall we were paid to abduct Ewan MacAllister, not kill him. Think you, what would happen if we return with his corpse?”
“Have you a better plan?” Viktor asked. Unlike the others, he respected her ability to think.
