her, he looked taller and larger than ever, and he filled the stairway so that she knew she would have to brush against him to get by.
She felt the heat in her cheeks spread elsewhere when the thought of pressing against him grew to a mental image that included his arms slipping around her and pulling her close. She drew a sharp breath but could not think.
“Cat got your—” He broke off, chuckling. “I expect that that old saw does not find much favor with you, does it?”
“It does not, although my brothers have long delighted in finding new ways to say such things. One of James’s favorites was always to promise that he would do something before Cat could lick her ear.”
“Is that your tactful way of saying I’d be wiser not to call you Cat as they do?”
“I did not mean that, nay.” Aware that she was standing outside her mother’s room and wondering if the other women had come upstairs, or the men, she glanced warily at the closed door.
Apparently oblivious to her concern, he said in a normal speaking tone, “You still have not said what happened to put such color in your cheeks.”
“Perhaps you do not know that you are blocking my way.”
“Am I?” He stepped down a step.
Tension filled the air around her, raising the hairs on her arms and drying her lips. Wetting them with the tip of her tongue, she glanced again at the door of her mother’s bedchamber and listened for footsteps that might be her father’s coming up the stairs. Looking up at Fin, she muttered, “You know that you are.”
His eyes twinkled. “Nay, then, why should I? Nervous, lass? I’ll wager that you have been up to mischief, then. If so, and if I am to let you pass, I believe I should collect a toll as a small penalty for your misbehavior.”
“I have not misbehaved.”
“Ah, but you have. Why else would you keep looking at that door as if you expect it to open and an ogre to leap out and call you to account for yourself?”
“Prithee, sir, keep your voice down. Anyone on this stairway will hear you.” But she looked at the door again, sure that it was about to fly open.
“If you fear discovery, you had best get upstairs, had you not? I’ll just tell anyone who comes that I was flirting with a maidservant who has since fled.”
“Good sakes, do you flirt with maidservants in other people’s households? I thought that only your royal master did such things. I expect I should have known that you would be just like him, though.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, but before she had time to realize that the feeling that raced up her spine was not fear but delight at having stirred him to such a look, it vanished. He said, “Art going to tell me where you have been or not?”
Pretending to consider which answer she would give, she said, “Not, I think. Why should I trust you with such a confidence when you do not trust me?”
“So that still rankles, does it?” He stepped down again, so that he stood on the landing with her, crowding her as if to see if she would step back.
She did not, but her body hummed at his nearness.
“I won’t insist that you tell me,” he said quietly. “But, as Ivor and I told you, if word of what we discussed drifts beyond these walls, it could put others at risk. I’d wager that you would put only yourself at risk by answering my question.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But you do want to know, and that makes us even.”
“Does it?” He put a finger under her chin, tilting her face higher. Moving his own face close enough so that she could feel his breath on her lips, he said softly, “Art so sure now that we are even, little Cat?”
That single fingertip seemed to burn into the soft skin under her chin, and she could smell the subtle essence of wine on the breath that caressed her lips. Without conscious thought, her lips parted.
He bent nearer, slowly, so slowly that she could not think, could not even breathe. She could only anticipate the moment when his lips would touch hers.
The moment stretched until her whole body tingled and warmed, and then his mouth brushed hers… lightly and so softly that it was as if no more than a warm wind had followed his wine-scented breath to caress her.