Page 12 of The Highlander Is All That

“I’m certain he can find some of that.” She winked. He did not seem amused, but that hardly bothered her. She was having far too much fun tormenting him.

Because she knew something he refused to tell her. He had liked that kiss. He’d liked it a lot. She’d felt the undeniable length of his arousal pressing against her belly, and it had thrilled her to death.

Oh, she would kiss him again.

Whether he wanted her to or not.

And he would like it then too!

On that thought, she whirled away and headed back to the house on her own. She only looked back once and it was to see Hamish staring after her with a glower on his handsome face.

* * *

Scotsmen.

Anne St. Claire stormed into the library and slammed the door. A duke was one thing, but these men? Dusty and scruffy? It was intolerable. Utterly intolerable.

That the fair one, the baron, was far too much like Kirk for comfort didn’t help.

She shuddered and thrust all thoughts of that bastard from her mind.

Or at least she tried.

It still hurt to think of him. Of what he’d done to her.

Though she hadn’t minded at the time. Kirk’s kisses, caresses, and whispers of love had warmed her young heart and given her dreams of a future with him.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be lying. That he might be playing with her, the naïve English lass who didn’t have the sense God gave a goose. She’d fallen into his arms like the fool she was. She’d fallen for him.

He hadn’t only taken her innocence and broken her heart, he’d mocked her for being so stupid.

Oh, how she hated him.

Her chest ached with it.

She’d been able to bury the pain over the years, but she’d never really recovered from the blow to her ego. Her shattered heart was still in pieces. She’d been able to keep the memories at bay, but now, with them here, it all came rushing back in a black tide.

She vowed to avoid them, though even that wouldn’t help. She would still know they were here and—

“Ahem.”

Anne whirled around and froze. Hell. There he was, the baron, standing by the window, watching her. How could she not have seen him? How could she not have smelled him, that filthy, dusty creature?

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Lady Anne. I was looking for a book.”

She forced a smile and held out her arms. “This is the place.”

“I, ah, doona know if you’re aware, but you were muttering to yourself,” he said with a smile that was so sincere and smug, it speared her.

She couldn’t help but bristle at his mocking tone. Above all things, she abhorred being mocked. “I most certainly was not.”

His grin widened and dimples appeared on his cheeks above the scruff of his beard. “Aye. You were. But I’ll not hold it against you.” He winked then, that hideous beast.

Anne’s eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up. She knew better than to show any emotion to a man like this, but she couldn’t help herself. He was too attractive by far . . . and he knew it. He made her hackles rise. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am,” she said in a tone as dry as dust.

His laugh irked her. Though she was poised to quit the room, instead she glared at him and snapped, “I fail to see what is so funny.”

“You, for one thing. You could at least pretend to be welcoming. I thought that was the British way. Grin and bear it and all that. Are you so displeased that the duke dinna come?”