Chapter 14 #2
“What are you doing?”
“I am coming in,” he said.
“Nay.”
“It will be a squeeze,” he admitted, and eyed the narrow tub dubiously.
“You cannot.”
“What will you do, lass? Fight me for the space? Or scream for Master Shanks? I don’t doubt the old bastard would try to rescue you, be you maid or man this eve, but . . .” He shrugged. “The door is barred.”
“Get out of me room.”
“I would but it seems you’ve left your dirk out of reach. Very thoughtless for a warrior,” he said, and stepped closer.
She tilted her head up at him. Her eyes snapped like firelight in the shadowed room. “Mayhap you would find I do not need it.”
Intriguing, he thought, and stopped beside the tub. What was she going to do? Bite him? He wouldn’t doubt it, but judging from his body’s reaction, he didn’t find the thought necessarily distasteful. Perhaps now would not be the best time to disrobe. She might well be flattered by the view.
“Who is the fortunate gentleman you’ve set your sights on?” he asked again. His voice was impressively low.
“Are you threatening me, MacGowan?”
“Aye.”
“With what?”
“You’ll soon find out if you fail to answer me question.” He supposed he would too.
She gazed at him, then shrugged, and he stood like a statue, wondering what the hell to do next. Her brows were raised, her eyes steady. Honor dictated that he drop his plaid.
Her eyes popped open and she stiffened. For a moment he expected her to make a lunge for her knife but she did not. He took a tentative step toward her.
“The marquis of Claronfell,” she said.
He stopped in his tracks. “Laird Turpin?”
Her gaze sprinted downward. His cock throbbed, and her eyes lifted, rather slowly, he thought, back to his face.
“You know him?” she asked. Her tone was husky now.
“We’ve not met,” he said. “But I’m told he wooed Anora afore Ramsay came along, and I’ve met one of his knights. Sir Charles, I believe his name was.”
“Where?”
“Why do you go to Claronfell?”
“’Tis none of your affair,” she said. He glared at her but she raised her brows. “What now, MacGowan? You’ve naught else to remove, unless you plan to peel off your skin.”
“You know little of men, lass, if you think that disrobing is the worst I can do.”
The room was silent. Her gaze skimmed him from bow to stern, then returned to his face. “’Tis not true,” she said. “I know a good deal of men, for I am one. Remember?”
“’Tis difficult at times. Tell me why,” he said and, reaching for a towel, wrapped it about his hips.
Her eyes darted down again. Was there disappointment in her face? “Why what?”
“Why do you don maid’s clothes for the marquis and none other?”
“’Tis like a man to assume it would be for a man.”
“Ahh,” he said, “Another of the sage Hunter’s lessons about the evils of a man’s vanity.”
“Just so.”
“If not for a man, then who?”
“Could it not be that even lassies deserve some attention?”
He scowled at her. “What?” he said but she seemed to be concentrating hard on the water that surrounded her.
He stared too. There was little to see actually, for her knees were drawn tight against her chest and her arms were set atop them. Still, it did funny things to his heart.
“What lassies?” he asked, doing his best to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
He was surprised when she answered. “The marquis’s daughters.”
“Turpin has daughters?” He was trying to see some connection.
“’Tis not so surprising, surely. Half the population of Scotland is female, after all.”
There was anger in her tone and he scowled, uncertain of the reason. “And what has that to do with you?”
“Nothing surely. They are only girls. I am certain the marquis has seen well enough to their care since their mother’s death. After all, he is not only a man, but a noble.”
His mind ticked along, trying to piece together this erratic puzzle. But when those same pieces fell into place, it hardly seemed possible.
“Nay,” he said.
She shifted her gaze rapidly to his, saying nothing.
“You do not plan to . . .” He paused, still thinking.
She didn’t help the process, but shifted slightly, drawing his attention to any part of her being that might happen to escape her arms.
“Get out, MacGowan,” she said. “I am ready to rise.”
He didn’t even respond, but sat upon the rim of the tub. “You plan to care for his children?”
There was something in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was fear.
“Girls?” he said. “A nursemaid? You?”
“Tell me, champion . . .” Her tone was deep and somewhat disconcerting. “What surprises you more, that I would be able to care for children, or that I would think girls worthy of the trouble?”
He watched her carefully. His erection, by the by, had not eased in the least. Also disconcerting. “Of the two of us, laddie,” he said, “I would say you are the one who thinks girls unworthy. After all, ’tis not I who abhors them so that I abandoned me own sex.”
“I did not say it was because they are unworthy.”
“Why then?”
She did not answer. Indeed, she shifted her gaze away. “Mayhap I did so because I could. And yet, as simple as not, I can become a woman.”
“And care for another woman’s babes?”
“You think I cannot?” Her voice was challenging, her eyes the same.
“Would you even recognize a bairn if you saw one?”
“I’ve seen children afore.”
“Truly? Shanks said you did not play with the other villagers for they were afeared of you even when you were a wee bit of a thing.”
“I do not want you speaking to Master Longshanks.”
There was true anger in her tone now. Why? Perhaps it would behoove him to speak to the daft old man more, no matter how onerous the task.
“Leave him be,” she warned. “He has seen trouble enough.”
“And the marquis’s daughters have not?”
She glared at him. “You think I would be such a horrible nursemaid?”
“How daft do you think me, lass?”
She gritted a smile. “Those aren’t taters between your thighs.”
His jaw dropped and then he laughed, throwing back his head as he did so. “Shall I be flattered that you noticed?”
“Most probably. ’Tis the best you shall get from me and I see that you are needy.”
He could only guess what she meant by that so it was surely best to ignore it altogether, for if he thought in sexual terms . . . well . . . it was hard to think atall. After all, she was right, they weren’t taters.
“I but meant this,” he said, “you are not going to Claronfell for benevolent reasons.”
“Nay?”
He shook his head.
“Then perhaps I still hope to marry well. After all, I am not quite in me dotage.”
His gaze skimmed her shoulders. Despite her best efforts he could still see the high portions of her breasts. Sigh. “Nay,” he agreed, “not quite. So you plan to nurture his children and gain his title.”
She batted her eyes at him. “I am, after all, a maid.”
“Sometimes.”
Her gaze held his. “You think I cannot do this?”
He didn’t answer.
“You think I cannot gain his interest.”
“I did not say that.”
“But you think it, don’t you, MacGowan,” she said and rose slowly to her feet. Water sprayed over him, but his throat went dry and his cock went crazy. Every inch of her was revealed, absolutely naked, damp and glowing, with water running over her like loving hands.
“Don’t you?” she repeated.
He rose stiffly to his feet. It was not a simple task. ’Twas easier to walk with a leg wound than an erection. “You do not plan to seduce the marquis, lass.”
“Because I cannot?”
“Because . . .” It was difficult to think, harder still to put the thoughts into coherent words. “Because it is not in you. You might kill him or you might—”
“But I cannot seduce him,” she repeated and stepped from the tub. They were inches apart.
Lachlan swallowed hard. From this distance his cock could almost reach her and it was giving it a hell of a try. Unfortunately, his towel was a deterrent.
“Because,” she continued. “Although you’ve been telling me all along that I am a maid, you do not truly believe it.
So what am I, MacGowan?” She took a brief step toward him, doing naught to cover herself.
’Twas impossible to know if he should grab her or run.
“Not quite a man, but not a woman either. So I am nothing. Is that the case?”
“I did not say—”
“I tell you this, champion,” she murmured.
She was so near that her peaked breasts almost touched his chest. Her hair curled like magic against the cranberry hue of her nipples.
His teeth hurt from clenching them. “I am what I choose to be, and I do what I choose to do. And if that includes seducing the marquis . . .” For one breathless moment she was silent and then she tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips to his.
Her fingers slipped around his neck and her mouth moved, lightly, like a fairy’s kiss.
Like a maiden’s kiss. Like utopia. But he fought the madness.
She was playing him like a harp, using him, toying with him, and he knew better than to succumb.
But just at that moment her nipple brushed against his chest.
Desire roared through him like a kitchen fire. He reached for her with a moan.
His hand curled about her waist, but in that instant the kiss was broken off, and something cold and sharp pressed against his ribs.
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Damn, it was the dirk.
“Tell me again how I cannot seduce him, MacGowan.”
His erection throbbed between them. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice.
“In truth, lass, I said no such thing.”
She raised a brow. “Then you admit that I can?”
“I am certain you could seduce a hay fork if you set your mind to it.”
Her lips parted slightly. It took every bit of his horribly lacking strength to keep from kissing her.
“But that is not why you plan to go there,” he said.
“Then what is me plan?”
They were still close. So terribly close that he ached, truly ached to have her.
“I do not know,” he said and releasing her, endeavored to take a step to the rear. Self-restraint was not his forte and for a moment he thought his legs might actually refuse to do his bidding. But in the end they did. Damn legs. “That is why I will be going with you to visit the marquis.”
She raised the knife and her eyes narrowed. “This I tell you, MacGowan, you will not be traveling with me again.”
He smiled and, touching his hand to his towel, let it fall to the floor. Between them, his erection sprang hopefully into the open air. There was not a tuber to be seen.
“Aye, lassie,” he said and, turning painfully away, stepped into the tepid water. “I will.”