Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,2
a moment or a thing can be familiar even though it is not. She knew just how wavy his hair would be if it weren’t pulled back and tied by a bit of leather. That it was not really black, as it looked now pulled tight against his head, but more the color of cinnamon when moist. The slash of eyebrows, emphasizing his pleasure, could as easily pull into a frown just as eyes, sparkling with merriment right now, could be as blue and cold as ice in winter.
She knew it, knew it all though he was a stranger with no right to be holding her at all. No right to laughter when she was a riot of confusion.
No right for him to look as though he knew her as well.
He played with her senses.
She batted at his arm. He stilled, holding her aloft. Eye to eye, she stared wary and vulnerable, fearing he could see deep into her very soul, before he gave a sharp nod of satisfaction with her none the wiser why.
She glowered at his smug audacity. How dare he take liberties just because he arrived with her kin. So what if looks like his could make a lesser women swoon. Maggie refused to be taken by looks. There were plenty of handsome men to be found in the highlands. She would take that smirk from his face.
Tossed again, grandly high, Maggie was too confused and angry to thrill in it. Instead, mid-air, she glared at Douglas for being the traitor who passed her to this man.
“Nay, Douglas,” the man boomed, hearty voice for a hearty man. Her head snapped back, scowl intact. “Feisty but not fat.” He had the gall to squeeze her waist with each landing bounce though his eyes were focused higher than her waist, lower than her shoulders.
Maggie shifted her arms, crossed on her chest, to better hide her bosom. He winked.
“Not fat at all.”
She swiped at him again, toppled so he had to side step to catch her. “Nor too lean.” His smile broadened, which she’d not thought possible. “To my mind, Douglas,” slowly he lowered Maggie, “Aye.” He nodded thoughtfully. “’Tis true, to my mind she is just rrrright!” His relished R’s tumbled through her in a chaotic dance.
The moment Maggie felt the purchase of land, she shoved away from the man, stepped back on legs that wobbled, straightened her plaid with hands that trembled too much to manage. In defiance of any weakness, she lifted her chin.
He towered over her, a massive brute of a man. It was no surprise he could toss her high. His muscle-corded arms were the size of cabers themselves. His chest, och, he had naught covering it but a width of plaid. Not that anything would fit across that expanse.
He was nothing of the sort that Maggie could appreciate. She liked her men long and lanky, with more brain than brawn. This man was all brawn. She doubted he had a brain, not if he’d be playing with her while her brothers watched. They’d get him for that, just as they dealt with any man who looked at her sideways.
She shot a glance toward each of them, and with every sighting her confidence fell.
Nigel, James and Douglas all beamed at her. Her oldest brother, Feargus the younger, strode up to the man and slapped him on the back. They both laughed at some hidden story. Feargus' friendly pats could send a man reeling. Not this one, which made her brothers even more genial.
All right then, if her brothers would not stand against him, then Maggie would. She would stand strong and firm, just as she did with her brothers. It was the only way to win concessions with their lot.
A toss of her head shifted her hair off her shoulders. She straightened her back, showed her own strength, like mare to stallion. His smile quirked, displayed a mouth full of straight white teeth. He sent a nod to her brothers, Crisdean and Alec, who had just pushed their way into the crowd. Both grinned back. Even her da looked ready to explode with mirth.
The man won them over. Had everyone siding with him, rather than her. The cheek of the brute.
He’d be no easy opposition. Aye, but she’d not been raised with brothers to forget how to taunt them. Hold your place and hold your tongue. It was as good as ignoring them, certain to drive them crazy.
Maggie silently stood her ground, confronted with his