Page 55 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

"Oh." She glanced around, as if making certain no one was eavesdropping. "I enjoy it."

"I'm glad you can defend yourself against knaves."

"Aye." She glanced down at the dirk sheathed on his belt. "I wager you're far more skilled than I am."

His mind falling into the gutter, he glanced aside and tried to think of something nonchalant. "'Haps we can spar sometime, wee warrior." He gave a slight grin.

Her skeptical gaze assessing him and his shoulders, she returned the grin. "You're an impressive and strong warrior. I'm certain I would have nay chance besting you."

He warmed at her compliment, imagining her gentle hands stroking over his shoulders and chest. "You never know. I'm guessing you're a canny lady with many tricks up her sleeve."

At supper, they sat together, eating roast venison with vegetables, buttered bread, and sipping spiced wine. He learned about her family and told her about his.

During the cèilidh, their first dance was to the Hebridean fairy's love lilt, a charming and romantic tune that filled the hall. By the time the evening was over, he feared he was attached to her. 'Haps even addicted.

He could scarce sleep that night. Had he just met his mate, the woman he would share his life with? He could not imagine going back to Farspag and never looking into her astonishing blue eyes again. 'Twas not shallow beauty that attracted him, though. Something about her delved deep and grabbed him, heart and soul. He had not even stolen a kiss.

Surely, 'twas madness that had taken him over.

Just because he was a chief did not mean he had to marry right away. He could wait.

Some impatient part of him protested that. Aye, she inspired intense arousal, but 'twas far more. Every inch of her intrigued him, every emotion flitting across her face. Her spellbinding, celestial blue eyes.

Having slept little, he was up and ready early, for he hoped to talk to her again. He, Gavin, and Torr would have to leave after breaking their fast.

He waited at the bottom of the tower's stairs, a private place away from the great hall. The faint dawn light gleamed through the slit windows along the spiral steps. He knew her chamber was above, but would she get up this early?

A door opened and closed. Quick footsteps patted downward, jolting his pulse. When she came into view, his breath halted.

"Oh, m'laird. I mean Brodie," Elsea said, looking sleepy eyed and adorable.

Forcing in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat and help him think clearly, he grinned. "Good morn, Lady Elsea."

"I'm glad you're still here. I wanted to tell you I enjoyed meeting you last night."

"Nay as much as I enjoyed meeting you." He lifted her hand and kissed her bare, silken knuckles. The scent of female and roses engulfed him. "Can I come back and see you sometime?"

She nodded, her eyes lighting. "Aye, please do."

"Do not marry some knave before I return," he warned playfully.

She grinned. "Of course not." Her eager eyes searched his.

The urge to kiss her was so powerful he could not ignore it. He had to know. "You would nay dirk me if I steal a kiss, would you?"

Her smile widened, and she dropped her gaze, her face brightening with a blush. "Nay, indeed," she whispered.

His heart thudded like a war drum as he tilted her chin upward and leaned down to brush his lips across hers. Saints! What a paradise this was. As he deepened the kiss, she tasted of apple cinnamon scones and alluring female. Her arms slid around his neck, and he consumed her sweet mouth.

His common sense deserted him as he pulled her close against him and kissed her once more. But he was taking it too far; he forced himself to draw away. "Saints, Lady Elsea," he rasped. "What have you done to me?"

She licked her lips, her darkened yet startled gaze searching his. Had that been her first kiss? He refused to ask. If she'd kissed some other man, he didn't want to know. Arousal coursed through his veins like a river. He drew in a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.

"I must go. But I'll return." He kissed her forehead. "Wait for me."

She nodded, her lovely eyes filling with tears.

"Nay crying, lass," he whispered.