The Dark Highlander

Well, she wasn’t about to make the first move. If he wanted to go all reserved and professional, she could too. After all, he hadn’t said “Come with me to Scotland and let’s get to know each other.” He’d said, “Come with me to Scotland to help me translate texts. Oh, and I’ll try to seduce you too.”

How many times had Katherine called him? Had all nine of those messages been from her? That thought jarred her thoroughly back to reality She’d hate being that kind of woman. Pining after a man she couldn’t have.

She folded her arms across her chest. Stared straight ahead at the menu behind the counter.

“I always want you, Chloe-lass,” he murmured suddenly in a low voice, for her ears only. “There’s no’ a moment that I doona.”

Chloe scowled. What was he—a mind reader? Damn him anyway! Arching a brow, she tipped her head back, narrowed her eyes and gave him a chilly look. “Who said I was thinking anything even remotely like that? Do you just think I sit around with nothing better to do than think about you?”

“Nay, of course not. I merely thought to assure you that though my mind may seem far away, should you wish my attentions, you’ve only to say so.”

“I’m fine. I just want some coffee.”

“Mayhap you’d prefer to spend this eve with me at an inn, rather than going straight to my brother’s,” he suggested with a seductive smile.

Chloe scowl deepened.

“One eve is no’ enough?” he teased, though his eyes were distant. “Greedy lass, would you be wishing a week?”

“Get over yourself, MacKeltar,” she muttered. “Though the women out there”—she flung a hand toward the street—“seem to think so, I hate to break it to you, but the world does not revolve around you.”

Dageus’s nostrils flared and he inhaled sharply as he recognized her emotion. Jealousy. She’d been watching other women look at him (aye, he noticed, in a peripheral fashion) and it chafed her. That her desire for him was intense enough to make her feel jealousy, made him feel wildly possessive. His seduction was working. She was growing attached to him. Abruptly, he pulled her in front of him at the counter, and wrapped both arms around her waist. He held her while their order was filled, hungry for the feel of her wee body against his. She was stiff at first, but slowly the tension quit her small, lushly curved form.

When she leaned forward to take her latte and scone, he pressed against her from behind, deliberately brushing his hard arousal against her bottom, letting her know exactly how much she was always on his mind.

He smiled when she nearly dropped her coffee.

“I’d have bought you another,” he said with a shrug, when she glanced sharply over her shoulder at him, blushing as furiously as she was scowling. Like as not, he’d buy her the café if she indicated the slightest desire for it.

“You’re incorrigible,” she hissed. “Just so you know, what happened on the plane is not going to happen again,” she informed him, before turning and stalking off toward the rental car.

His eyes flared dangerously. Did the lass think to share such intimacies with him and then rescind them?

Och, nay, Dageus MacKeltar didn’t go backward. She would find that out soon enough.

As they neared their destination, Dageus grew increasingly subdued. After lengthy deliberation, he’d decided it best to simply appear on Drustan’s doorstep unannounced, hope Gwen answered the door, then hope for the best.

He glanced over at Chloe, acknowledging that he’d not have made this trip today alone. Even with her beside him, he’d considered turning around half a dozen times. Alone, he’d have tried the museums first, have put it off indefinitely, telling himself all manner of lies when the simple truth was that he didn’t want to face Drustan. But somehow, with her at his side, it didn’t seem nigh as impossible.

Her earlier irritation seemed to have passed or, as wee as she was, there simply wasn’t enough room in her to contain irritation and excited curiosity. She was sipping her coffee, staring out the window, pointing, and asking endless questions. What was that ruin? When did summer begin? When did the heather bloom? Were there really pine martens, and could she see one? Could they be petted? Did they bite? Could they go to the museums while they were there? How about Glengarry? How much farther?

He’d been answering absently, but she was so enamored by the vista that she hadn’t seemed to notice his inattention. He had no doubt that she would fall in love with his country. Her enthusiasm made him remember a time—what seemed a lifetime ago—when he, too, had viewed the world with wonder.