Before she could speak again, his eyes flicked to the wardrobe. “Did ye like the dresses I got ye? I spent a lot of time making sure that they fit. Ye daenae ken how hard it was to guess yer size.”
“Why nae? Ye probably had one of yer guards spy on me for days before yeabductedme from the market.”
“I would never do that,” Alasdair stated, placing a hand over his chest. “Ye’re well kent across the Highlands. It wasnae hard to get a description of ye.”
“This isnae like ten years ago,” she said, her voice steady but edged. “Ye cannae just worm yer way into me life, thinking ye could buy me one or two thoughtful gifts, and all will be well.”
One of his eyebrows rose. A smirk spread across his face. “So ye thought the dresses were thoughtful.”
She exhaled.
“I am just glad that ye think so, that is all.”
“This is nae the point,” she snapped.
“Then what is?”
“The point is that ye’re in me room. I daenae want ye in here.”
He stepped forward, the shadows moving with him. “Why?”
Her mouth opened. “Because…” she trailed off.
She didn’t know what to say, not when he stood before her looking like that.
His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Ye’re nae afraid of what I might do, are ye? Because believe me, I would never touch ye if ye daenae want me to.”
She lifted her chin and swallowed. “Nay.”
“Nay,” he repeated, softer this time. “Ye’re nae afraid of that. Ye’re afraid of whatyemight do. Ye daenae think ye can control yerself.”
“Alasdair—”
“Ye arenae worried about me. Nay. Ye’re worried about yerself.”
“Nay. Please?—”
“Can ye control yerself when I do this?” His voice dropped as his fingers brushed against her lips, feather-light.
She shuddered, her breath catching. Words swelled in her throat but refused to leave.
“Or this,” he murmured, sliding a hand to her waist and pulling her against him.
Their bodies met, and an unmistakable hardness pressed into her. The same warm, intriguing pressure she had felt on the horse right before she stabbed him.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
“Or this…” he purred, his hand moving slowly up her neck before returning to her mouth, his thumb coaxing her lips apart.
She parted them without thinking, letting him in. His fingers lingered, brushing along the seam of her lower lip, tracing the corner where it curved.
He ran them slowly along the side, then back again, as if committing the shape of her mouth to memory.
Her breath caught, the warmth of his skin a deliberate, maddening tease. She hated how her body leaned forward as if it had a mind of its own.
CHAPTER 10
Ten Years Ago
