When their hands touched, it was as if a lightning bolt went through him. Angry at his reaction to her, he jerked the torch out of the wall and tossed it into the hearth.
Ilysa raised her eyebrows, and he knew he'd offended her careful husbandry of the castle resources. But they belonged to him, damn it, and if he wanted to toss a torch into the fire, so be it. He had a far bigger problem to deal with here than one wasted torch.
"I must speak with ye," he said.
"I was just about - "
"Now." Connor turned, then marched across the hall and through the doorway to the other building and his private chamber. He wanted no risk of this conversation being overheard. But when he shut the door behind her, he was suddenly acutely aware that this was also his bedchamber, and that he and Ilysa were alone in it.
"What is it?" Ilysa asked with a pleasant smile and folded her hands in front of her.
With all his blood leaving his head and filling his cock, he was having trouble recalling his purpose in bringing her here. Something deep inside him made him want to break through her composure, to see if there was fire beneath all that brisk efficiency and calm control.
What was wrong with him? He reminded himself that Ilysa was a lass of undeniable virtue who trusted him blindly. If that wasn't enough - and it should be - she was his best friend's sister. Connor took a deep breath and approached her. Ach, it was a mistake to stand so close to her. The light scent of lilies filled his nose, making him long to smell it on her bare skin.
She glanced at the bed, drawing his attention to it, which was most unfortunate. It would be so easy to get her there. His breathing grew shallow as he imagined her naked above him, a tangle of red-gold hair falling over her breasts while he gripped her slim hips. When Ilysa shifted her gaze back to him, she looked a trifle nervous. As well she should.
"I want ye to go back to wearing your old gowns," he said, wanting to get this over with.
Ilysa stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, she said, "I don't have them anymore."
Damn it. "Why not?"
"Your sister and S矛leas threw them all away," she said. "Besides, everyone else likes my new gowns."
"You're lovely - I mean, the gowns are lovely," he fumbled. "But you're distracting the men dressed like that."
"Distracting the men?" Ilysa said. "I'm sorry, Connor, but that's ridiculous."
"I don't want ye coming in the hall while I'm speaking with them."
"I try to be quiet." She looked at him with huge brown eyes as innocent as fawn's. "Did I disturb ye?"
She disturbed his peace of mind.
"I can't have ye coming in and out of the hall while I'm meeting with the men until ye have something that is less...less..." - he paused to swallow - "provocative to wear."
When she drew in a deep breath in a huff, he could see the swell of her breasts pressing against the soft fabric of her bodice.
"My clothes are not provocative," she said in a prim tone.
He was being unreasonable. The problem was not her clothes but that he could not stop imagining her without them.
"I don't mean to insult ye," he said and took her hands without thinking.
They were so small in his and her fingers wondrously delicate. Her hands were like the woman herself. Their fragile appearance disguised competence and strength. He turned them over and examined her palms.
"'Tis hard to believe ye cut an arrowhead out of my chest with these," he said.
"They've done more than that to ye," she said and then inexplicably turned a violent shade of red. She tried to pull away, but he refused to let go.
"What have these hands done to me that I wouldn't know about?" he asked with a grin. Teasing her made him feel on safe ground again.
"Ye don't remember?"
Ilysa turned yet another shade of red, as only the very fair could. Now he was intrigued.
"What did ye do, ruffle my hair when ye were a bairn?" he asked.
"No."
"Ye were a perfectly behaved child, as I recall," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It must have been a strain being so good all the time."
When she dropped her gaze, he realized he had hit the mark squarely and felt badly for it. He ran