Page 29

It was the first time she had ever seen him laugh. The harsh, austere lines of his face softened instantly, and the dark, brooding shadow that always seemed to hang over him lifted, revealing a warmth she had never imagined he was capable of. He looked younger, remarkably handsome, and terrifyingly human.

He caught her staring, his dark eyes glinting with a sudden, wicked amusement. “What are ye lookin’ at?”

Flustered, a hot flush rushing up her neck to burn in her cheeks, Sheona sat up straight. “Why are ye laughin’?” she snapped, her voice rising in defense. “Is it so funny that I noted the presence of a guest in the keep?”

“Nay,” Brodie murmured, his dark eyes dancing as he pushed himself away from the table. He took a slow, deliberate step toward her chair. “What is amusin’ is the way ye’re circlin’ like a hawk over a mouse, lass.”

“I am doin’ nay such thing!” she insisted, her hands gripping the armrests tightly. “I was merely makin’ a polite observation!”

“A polite observation,” he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, rich and dry. He stopped just two paces away, towering over her, his broad shoulders cutting off the warm light from the hearth. “Tell me, Sheona… are ye jealous of me cousin?”

Sheona nearly choked on her own breath. Her eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

“Jealous?” she gasped, denying it far too quickly, her voice betraying a frantic, pitchy edge. “Jealous of her? I daenae even ken the woman! I merely remarked upon her appearance! I care nothin’ for who ye entertain in yer keep!”

Brodie’s amused expression did not falter for a single second. The subtle smirk on his lips told her with absolute certainty that he believed the exact opposite.

The sight of his quiet triumph sparked a sharp, desperate prickle of pride in her chest. She needed to tear that look from his face. She needed to remind him—and herself—of the cold, harsh reality binding them together.

“Daenae flatter yerself, Laird MacKinley,” she spat out, her eyes flashing with sudden, fiery defiance. “This is nae more than duty to ye. Just as it is to me. I am only here because ye compelled me to be.”

The warmth in Brodie’s face vanished, replaced instantly by an intensity so fierce it made her pulse halt.

“Is that so?” he murmured.

He took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between them until his boots were nearly touching the hem of her skirts.

Sheona lost her breath entirely. Her chest heaved, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. “What… what are ye doin’?” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “Someone might enter.”

“Nay one is here,” Brodie whispered, his voice dropping into a raspy, dark growl that vibrated through the quiet solar.

He leaned down, towering over her chair, bringing his broad chest so close she could feel the radiating, suffocating heat of his body. The scent of clean rain, pine, and warm leather enveloped her completely, making her head spin far faster than the fever ever had.

“I promised nae to touch ye until our weddin’ night,” Brodie whispered, his dark eyes holding hers with a terrifying, magnetic pull. He lifted one heavy hand, his long, calloused fingers hovering bare millimeters above the pale curve of her throat. “Tell me nae to touch ye.”

His fingers descended, brushing with feather-light delicacy against the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. A quiet, helpless sigh escaped Sheona’s parted lips before she could stop it, her body arching almost imperceptibly toward his touch.

“Say it, Sheona,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath fanning across her cheek. “Tell me to stop.”

She opened her mouth to speak, to utter the fierce, defensive rejection she had prepared in her mind, but no words came. Instead, as his thumb traced a slow, searing line down the side of her neck, a soft, helpless moan caught in the back of her throat.

Brodie’s fingers tightened slightly, his thumb pressing into the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat frantically against his touch. “Ye’re tremblin’, lass,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Is it fear, or is it desire?”

Sheona could not answer. Her body betrayed her as his other hand settled on her shoulder, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin where her neck met her collarbone. The heat of his touch burned through the thin fabric of her gown, sending waves of liquid fire through her veins.

“Such a proud, defiant woman,” Brodie continued, his lips brushing against her earlobe. “But yer body kens what it wants. It kens what it needs.”

His hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, his calloused fingers tracing the delicate curve of her elbow before moving to her wrist. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against her palm. Sheona gasped, her fingers curling instinctively around his hand as his tongue darted out to taste her skin.

“Ye taste of honey and rebellion,” he growled against her skin, his teeth nipping gently at the fleshy part of her palm. “A dangerous combination.”

Sheona’s head fell back against the chair, her eyes fluttering closed as waves of pleasure washed over her. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for more, for his hands to explore further, for his mouth to claim hers. The risk of discovery only heightened the intensity, making each touch feel forbidden and electrifying.

Brodie released her hand, his fingers moving to the laces of her gown. “Tell me to stop, Sheona,” he whispered again, his fingers toying with the first lace. “Tell me ye want me to leave ye alone.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the whimpers threatening to escape. Her breasts ached, the nipples pebbling into tight, sensitive points that rubbed against the coarse fabric of her dress. She could feel the moisture gathering between her thighs, the desperate ache of emptiness that made her want to spread her legs and beg for his touch.

His fingers worked the laces slowly, deliberately, pulling them loose one by one. The fabric of her gown gaped open, revealing the thin chemise beneath. Brodie’s breath hitched as his gaze fell upon the swell of her breasts, visible through the sheer material.