“Yer love?” She shook her head. “Let us be honest, shall we, William?”
“Call me Will,” he said impulsively, driven by some strange craving to hear her use the shortened version of his name that only his family and his closest friend, Brodee, had ever used.
“Will,” she said, her tone petulant, but all the same, he liked hearing his name upon her lips, which was a potent reminder that he had lost his control. Or maybe he’d lost his senses? “Ye are seducing me to ensure I choose ye to wed. There is nae a need to pretend there will ever be love between us.”
“I am seducing ye because I want ye,” he replied, the words coming smoothly because, God help him, they were true. Yes, he had to seduce her to ensure things went according to plan, but he did want her, so much so he was having trouble thinking straight.
When she gave him a doubtful look, he went on. “Aye, I wish ye to choose me to wed, but—”
“So ye can become close to my stepbrother, gain his favor, and that of the Steward?”
In a sense it was the truth, so it was easy to nod. Her upper teeth pushed into her plump bottom lip once more, and all the blood he possessed in his body seemed to go straight between his legs. “If ye keep biting yer lip like that, I’m going to throw all proper decorum to the wind and kiss ye right now,” he blurted.
Her eyes went wide, and her lip released from her teeth immediately. A spark of pleasure lit her eyes, making them lighten a shade. “I dunnae believe Brothwell would like that,” she said.
“I dunnae, in this moment, believe I give a damn what yer stepbrother would like.”
“Ada!” Brothwell’s voice came from their right, and one glance said he was fast approaching and irritated.
“That is a verra odd thing to say for a man trying to curry his favor,” she said, her gaze boring into his, questioning. “Unless,” she continued, surprising him by stepping nearer to him and grabbing his forearm in a hold that felt urgent, “ye are nae really here to gain his favor.” The last was said in a whisper, and William got the strange notion it was to protect him.
“And if that was true?” he asked, his words just as urgent as her hold with Brothwell only a few steps from being upon them. Had he misjudged her? Misunderstood somehow what she had said to the MacKinney?
But before she could even open her mouth to answer, Brothwell was there, taking her by the elbow and sweeping her away toward the treacherous MacKinney, whose open look of lust toward Ada made William want to kill the man.
