Page 7 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“No personal questions, angel,” he warned.

“I’m sorry to have asked.” Her thumb hooked over his, caressed his beaten knuckle like warm oil on cracking skin.

“He was the most loyal man ye’d ever meet,” he capitulated. “Loved his wife and family, led his people fiercely, and his life was stolen from him by men determined no’ to understand.” He inspected the talon, then let it fall. “I’ve worn this since he was murdered, to honor him, for no one else does.” He moved his pawn. That subject was over. “My question. If ye could go anywhere, where would it be?”

She glanced up at him pensively as if the question surprised her and, for the first time tonight, her disarming smile fell. “I-I’ve never been asked what I wanted.”

Irritation bloomed on her behalf. A fetching noblewoman, she’d likely been reared for one purpose only: to be used in a strategic marriage to produce heirs like a broodmare. What she wanted had never mattered.

“Answer it for me.”

“France,” she said resolutely. “I would climb in a boat and nay return for at least a year, whilst playing games and dancing around bonfires and swimming in crystal seas. I’d read verse in the sunlight, and survive on cheese from hamlet markets and fresh berries from the maids who go afruiting and wine from traveling merchants—” She caught her wistful rambling and returned her focus to the board, making her next move, though there was no mistaking the genuine longing in her reply.

“Why boat? And why France?”

“Nay, my tricky demon.” She wagged her finger at him. He smirked as she flashed a teasing smile. “One question asked and answered. What is yer favorite food?”

He furrowed his brow. “The kind I can fill my belly with.”

She gave an annoyed shake of the head, as if he was a cheeky lad skirting around fessing up to a wrongdoing. Their unoccupied fingers mingled, her soft ones with his callused ones, his with hers.

He made his move. His knight jumping out from where his pawn had vacated. “Answer my question.”

“Which one? Why France? Or why a boat?”

“Cheeky lass. I’ll settle for boats. For now.”

“I suppose…I watched my faither and brother sail out time and again, returning with tales of what they’d seen. I once tried to sail,” she giggled, “but the waves capsized me and I splashed out. I was frightened, for in sooth, I canna’ swim.” A fist seized in his gut. He tamped down the unwelcome reflex. “I wish I knew what it was like to just…feel that wind in my hair and that freedom.” She closed her eyes as if feeling the wind. God, the way she did that. It made him want to give her the world. A lass so passionate, yet trapped in her tower like a fabled princess with her leagues of golden hair. “This is the first time I’ve traveled in years. My brother wasna’ going to let me come.”

Was her brother mistreating her? Anger spiked.

“I nay disparage him. He’s terrified of losing me like we lost our sister. Until he married, it was only us since my sister’s unfortunate death and our sire’s passing.”

Her finger crept up to twist her locket. There was pain in her words she was attempting to hide with a smile.

“The world’s nay a bonny place, lass. Innocents are swept up in others’ wrongdoing all the time.” He took a drink, too, needing to taste her lips again. “He’s prudent to protect ye from men like me.”

“And just what sort of man are ye?”

“Are ye making yer move or asking a question out of turn?”

She stifled an eye roll at his teasing, but he chuckled, having noticed.

“Blackguard.”

Ah, that made twice in one night he’d earned the title. This time he liked hearing it.

…

“Yer rules, mon ange.”

Mon ange! My angel. Her cheeks heated at the bold endearment. And the way he spoke French was so fluent. Was he French? His Scots was flawless, too. She moved, asked a question, and then he moved another pawn.

“Why France?”

“I should love to go there.” She clutched her chest just thinking about it. “My grandsire traveled to France often on the late king’s privy council. He’d bring back trinkets: a stick horse and an old battered nasal helm for my brother, dolls and bone carvings for my sister, lavender potpourris and books for me”—

“Books?”