Page 52 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"The clan I'm from is fond o' fighting an' colorful language," said Lissie, her hair shimmering in the candlelight.

Will stood there, transfixed. Looking, he saw jewels in her hair. He had never seen her look like this, and it knocked him for six.

Seeing his face, Lissie hesitated.

"But we dinnae need to talk about that," she said, as if she regretted she had mentioned it.

Surprised, Will looked over. "No, I would like to hear it," he said keenly. Indeed, he was. He had many questions about her homeland. But instead of responding positively, Lissie stared at the ground.

"Och, maybe later," she muttered, as if there was something she did not want to say. Confused, Will wondered why. Then he watched as she checked herself in the looking glass.

"Och!" Lissie muttered, spying something untoward. In the half-light, Will could not really see what it was, but whatever it was, it was enough to make Lissie cross.

Urgently, she began buttoning something, trying her hardest to reach a fastener at her behind. Will watched for a moment, then he coughed.

Lissie's beauty had entranced him, but it had also brought with it the uneasy feeling that he should not really be there. A lady's bedchamber was no place for an unaccompanied gentleman, and yet there he was.

"Och," tutted Lissie, trying again to fasten her robe. Will tried his hardest not to watch her lithe hand slide in and out of her dark blue silken gown. Every now and then, the candlelight offered tantalizing snatches of her skin; smooth, creamy, and sweet.

Every inch of Will's being ached to touch her.

"Och, I just cannae reach," Lissie exclaimed.

Will tried his hardest not to look. He really did. He was desperately aware that this was not his place. But it was almost impossible for his eyes not to stray over to Lissie's shape.

"Could ye?" asked Lissie, still desperately grappling with the hooks of the robe.

Will felt his cheeks color with mortification.

"Where's Jane?" he asked, flustered. Instantly, he set about looking for the lady-in-waiting.

But from his side, Lissie laughed. "She's nae here," she said. "She's got the evening off. I'm just having to manage on my wee ane."

Will felt her glance, snaking around through the dark of the room. She sent him a look, willing him to come on over. Will, who wanted nothing more, felt his palms prickle.

"Oh," he said, unsure. "And there's no maid at all?" he asked, his eyebrow arching up.

Lissie fixed him with her emerald beam. "Nae at all." She grinned.

Will had a hard time believing this, but did not say anything. Then, there was a pause in which he felt Lissie's hard stare suck him in.

She smiled. Helpless and immediately, he became unstuck.

Without a word, he was at her side, lifting the sides of her dress and fastening them together. It took some time; he was unfamiliar with the workings of a woman's robe. And the hook and eyes on the clothing were a particular pain. Finally, with clumsy fingers, he succeeded in hooking the robe.

As he did, Will felt his fingers surreptitiously slide beneath the damask. Lissie's pure flesh caressed his fingertips. A sudden tingle shot down Will. Instantly, he flinched.

"Thank ye," said Lissie, as she smoothed herself down.

Will, still with the tingle from Lissie's touch burning him inside, almost shot backward. He did not trust his hands. What if he touched her again?

And yet, from the comeliness of her gaze, it seemed she was inviting him in. A sweat worked its way up inside Will. He was too hot. He was too clammy. His hands itched to touch her. It was impossible. Instinctively, he moved backward. Anything to get away.

The look she sent him drew him in. Smiling, Will straightened himself down.

"So, are we ready, ma'am?" he asked formally, but at the tip of his mouth was a lopsided smile.

"We are indeed," a voice pierced through the gloom.