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“I have to marry her,” he said. “’Tis the only way to protect my clan.”

She frowned. “Protect? From whom?”

“From her. She wants Kintail because we failed to pay the tribute in full. It used to be part of Ross territory, but was claimed by my ancestors and then approved by the king. My clan won a skirmish with the chief of clan Ross a long time ago, but Euphemia thinks that battle needs to happen again. God kens my clan isna in a position to fight a large force.”

“Right. Especially not during the Wars of Scottish Independence.”

He glanced at her. “I’ve never heard anyone call them that. But aye, ’tis a good name. We do fight for our independence.”

He leaned back, supporting himself with his arms. Why did he have this feeling of lightness in his chest around her? Like she’d understand anything he’d tell her, like she’d make it better.

“I’ve always been the one protecting them, taking on the load, anything that would harm them. And it wasna like I had anyone I loved to marry, so…I thought if I marrit anyone, it should be for the well-being of my clan.”

She eyed him with something that resembled wonder. “Really?”

Ah nae, dinna look at me like that…

Too late. He was already drowning in her magic, in the depths of those beautiful sparkling eyes. He let out a long breath. “Truth be told, Lady Rogene…” He chuckled. “Rogene, I mean. I dinna want to lie with her at all.” He looked at her. Her eyes shone in the dying light of the day, reflecting the brilliant, intense sunset. Her lips looked so soft, and her skin was radiant with the golden glow. Her dark hair was like a veil of silk around her face. “I want another.”

She blinked and swallowed. “Who?”

It was as though someone had punched his logical mind, and it lay unmoving, allowing his feelings and emotions to do whatever they wanted.

“You.”

She opened her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise. She bit her full lower lip, and he wanted to be the one biting it. Her eyes darkened, and he knew she wanted him, too. The soft blue vein in her neck pulsed faster.

His logical mind was still out cold when he reached for her, dragged her to himself by the waist, and kissed her. For a moment, he expected her to push him away and slap him again, but, thank heavens, she didn’t.

Her lips met his with a soft, warm delight, a thousand times more delicious than Christmas pastry and as intoxicating as a cask of uisge. He pressed his lips to hers, softly at first, gently. And when that caused a burst of small lightning bolts to run through his senses, he knew he was lost. He kissed her again, stronger, hungrier, then licked that sweet lower lip and gently dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting hers.

Stop, ye simpleton. Ye are betrothed to another.

God Almighty, she was like a succulent, forbidden fruit he didn’t have the strength to stop tasting. He brushed her tongue with his, drinking her in. Her warm, slim body was pressed against him, and he wanted to undress her, and dissolve with her, and make her his.

But coldness rushed over him as she suddenly broke the kiss and leaned back, staring at him with horror.

Chapter 10

“Oh, no, no, no!” Rogene whispered. “What the hell did I just do?”

“Nothing we both didna want to, sweet,” Angus said.

Oh, shoot, why did he need to be such a great kisser? A gorgeous Highland god—tall, with arms like columns, handsome and responsible and kind and so, so hot…

And now a good kisser.

Well, not so responsible, she realized. He did have a fiancée, and he was kissing her with no remorse, seemingly, whatsoever.

But she! Kissing a guy from history, goddamn it. Yes, she liked him… More than that. She was clearly developing a crush on him, but he was getting married and would soon produce an important heir. What was she thinking? Could she not get a hold of herself?

Her body warm and fuzzy from the kiss, she realized she was still in his arms. His naked torso was as hard against her as a rock, and as hot as furnace despite the chilly evening air. And God help her if she allowed herself another glance at his hard abs and broad chest covered in soft, dark hair. Before she could allow her self-control to fall apart and get back to kissing him, she pushed herself away and out of his embrace, then jumped to her feet.

“It’s not right,” she said. “You’re about to get married. You cannot run around kissing girls. You have a duty.”

A duty to history, she meant. A duty to Scotland, not just to his clan. A duty the meaning of which he couldn’t even imagine.

His eyes darkened and his shoulders slumped, as though she’d kicked him where it hurt the most. And Rogene felt a stab of guilt.