Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,70
of the top of his delicious chest. Her dratted fingertips prickled, beckoning her to press them against his revealed flesh.
He leaned in, and the scent of whisky swirled around her. Her tongue tingled with the sudden desire to taste him to see if he had imbibed. He leaned closer, and his heat became one with hers. By God, they would go up in flames.
His lips curled back in a savage smile. “Who were ye opening the window for, Guinevere?”
It took a moment to gather her wits, but once she did, she glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
He nudged past her to enter through her window, and without a word, he stalked across her bedchamber, his boots tapping against the hardwood. After a second, her bedchamber lock clicked into place. A foolish thrill swept through her, remembering what had occurred between them the last time he’d locked a door. She shoved the burgeoning desire down. She would keep control of her wanton self.
When he turned to face her, moonlight slashed across his face, and for one breath, before he stepped out of the light and into the shadowy darkness of her bedchamber, she could have sworn she saw longing on his face. He strolled toward her this time, each of his measured steps making her heart beat a little faster, a bit harder.
When he finally came to stand before her, she set her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “Why did you lock my bedchamber door?”
“It wouldn’t do to be discovered in yer bedchamber.”
She laughed at that. While it was true, she felt just mulish enough to say, “How considerate of you not to want to ruin me. Oh, wait! You already ruined me.”
“If I recall, Guin, there were two of us involved in that kiss in the woods.”
She remembered every single solitary thing about that kiss. From the way his mouth had hungrily covered hers to the feel of his strong hands encircling her waist, the hardness of his chest as she pressed her palm against it even as she threaded her fingers into his thick hair and pulled him closer. She heard his guttural growl as his tongue parted her mouth and her own whimper as her emotions roiled within her.
“You initiated that kiss,” she said, wincing at her feeble attempt to deny her own passionate response.
“Mm-hmm,” was all he said in response, but it was the way he said it so knowing, so sarcastic, blast the Scot devil.
“I repeat, why are you here?”
“Ye bade me to come,” he replied, humor in his tone.
The man was impossible! “Tomorrow,” she said. “I bade you to come tomorrow.”
“I thought we needed to clarify some things between us if we are to formalize our betrothal.”
That word if stole her breath. Did he not plan to wed her? Perhaps he did not have a speck of honor, after all. She wanted to hide under her coverlet and avoid the dark fate of herself and her sisters if he broke the betrothal, but she shoved her shoulders back and arched her eyebrows. “Such as?”
“Such as I will only wed ye if ye can stand here and vow to me that ye want me more than ye want Kilgore.”
Fury made her cheeks flush. “So you need to know you bested him even now? Is that why you are here?”
“What?”
Was that astonishment she heard in his tone, or was that merely what she wanted to hear?
“Nay, that’s not why I’m here. Was I not clear?”
She had no trouble discerning his tone now—annoyance. She sucked her lip in and then popped it out, trying to control her own mounting irritation, but it was no use. The thread snapped under the weight of her heavy heart and indignation. “You are not being clear, you louse,” she bit out and punctuated it with a poke in his unrelenting chest. “I’ve no idea what you wish me to say!”
Oh, blast. It seemed that the thread that was holding her self-control together had been good and pulled, and now she was unraveling. She felt helpless to stop it. “Do you wish me to say you win? You bested Kilgore? Well, the last laugh is on you, isn’t it, because we both know you did not want to keep me, only to beat Kilgore!”
His hands came to her upper arms and gripped her firmly. “Guin, I already told ye. Ye are no prize to me.”