Highland Master - By Amanda Scott Page 0,67

not, my lord. You must not.”

“Ah, but I must, lass. You are too enticing to resist.” Stroking one velvet sleeve, he said, “I like this gown. Its softness invites a man’s touch.”

She had unexpectedly met her father after Shaw had left the meeting that morning, and had suffered a lecture on the behavior that he expected from her. Although he had readily agreed that she must not be rude to Rothesay, he had said simply that she should keep clear of him. To that end, she had managed to avoid Rothesay at the midday meal. But having worn her favorite gown to supper in hopes of impressing Fin, she had unfortunately lured Rothesay to her side instead.

Looking intently into her eyes, he said, “Be friendly, lass, unless you would dare to lay unfriendly hands on your sovereign.”

“You are not King yet, sir.”

“Ah, but as Governor, I wield the King’s powers—all of them, including the power to issue and revoke charters to land. Your grandfather and father control much land hereabouts, I believe, but only at the royal whim. Sithee, my command is as law.” He was still staring into her eyes, his grip strong on her shoulders and his desire for her radiating from every pore. “Come now, and walk with me.”

“I must not, sir,” she said, but she could scarcely get the words out and knew that she was trembling. She did not know if he spoke the truth, or if he would be able to take Clan Chattan’s vast lands even with an army. However, whether he could or not, she knew that the men in her family would take a dim view of her conversing at all with him and a much dimmer view if she angered him. And she did not want to give Shaw, in particular, any further cause for disapproval.

That he did disapprove must have been plain to Rothesay after Shaw had twice sent her away when he’d seen them together. However, Rothesay just as plainly would dismiss any father’s censure. But she could not dismiss Shaw’s.

Rothesay had only smiled at her weak refusal.

She said more firmly, “Truly, my lord, I must not.”

He continued to smile, his hands tightening on her shoulders. The thought flitted through her mind that even if she had had her dirk, she could not draw it on Rothesay. To do so would surely be committing treason.

When, slowly, hypnotically, he began to draw her closer, his purpose clear to anyone watching them, she knew that she had to stop him any way that she could.

His lips pursed expectantly, and she could smell the wine on his breath.

“God-a-mercy, sir, do you mean to kiss me here in front of everyone?”

“If you walk with me, we can be private,” he murmured. His lips relaxed to allow the comment, but his gaze still burned into hers.

“Yon archway leads to the garderobe,” she said with an edge to her voice.

“Aye, sure, but also upward to the ramparts and a fine view, I’m told. ’Tis your own choice. Obey me, or pay a pleasant and public forfeit.”

Gritting her teeth and sending consequences to the devil, she pushed harder against his chest, letting more of her anger show as she said, “Now, see here, my lord, you are truly beginning to irk—”

Before she could finish or his lips could touch hers, a guttural clearing of a throat made her jump and snap her head around to see Fin quite close to them.

She was glad to see him, but the stern look on his face and her own embarrassment strengthened her irritation with Rothesay. She tried to wrench away, but Rothesay’s hands tightened on her shoulders, and he held her so easily that anyone standing any distance away might easily fail to note her aversion.

“Let me go,” she snapped, wondering if she dared stomp on his foot.

“In a moment, lass,” he replied. He was looking at Fin but lazily, having neither jumped nor shown any other hint of the guilt that he ought to feel.

However, as he continued to gaze at the silent Fin, a frown clouded the royal countenance. “What the devil did you make that damned noise for?” he demanded.

“With respect, my lord,” Fin said. “I would have a word with you.”

Realizing that she was holding her breath, she let it out.

“Go away,” Rothesay said, grinning but easing his grip on her shoulders. “You intrude, Fin, as you can plainly see.”

“If I intrude, sir, ’tis better that I do so than that her ladyship’s father

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