with her blade pressed to his neck, not that he couldn’t easily disarm her as he had at the croft.
“What if I was looking for ye?” he countered.
“’Tis the dead of night.”
“Seems we keep meeting like this.”
“The first time was by accident, and now ’tis on purpose.” Jenny licked at her lower lip. “But no matter the intent, I’d still tell ye to go back to the barracks.”
He grinned, feeling a sudden rush of boldness. “I’ll go back. If ye kiss me first.”
“What?” The harsh word came out higher than the whispers they’d been exchanging, and she glanced frantically at her mother’s door.
“Ye’d best hurry afore your mother wakes.” He stepped an inch closer, enjoying how easy it was to distract her and telling himself that was the only reason he’d suggested it.
She pushed against him with her pistol. “Ye canna command me to kiss ye.”
“Nay, I suppose ye’re right.” He wrapped his hand around the barrel. “Ye’re Mistress J, so ye’ll have to command it of me.” Why was it so much fun to watch the play of emotions on her face?
“Ye’re talking nonsense.”
“Perhaps. ’Tis the middle of the night, and I did get my arse kicked earlier this evening.”
Her gaze roved over the swollen parts of his face. “I have it on good authority that was your own doing.” Her voice had softened, her outrage fading.
Toran let out a raspy chuckle and pushed her pistol down to her side. “Dirk has wanted to pummel me since he first saw me.”
“That is true. And so have I.”
“All right then. Instead of a kiss, how about I give ye a free shot?” He held out his arms to the sides and then tucked them behind his back to demonstrate the truth of his words.
“From my pistol?” She lined it up again.
“Your fist, lass. I’ll ask ye kindly to stop pointing your weapon at me.”
Jenny lowered her pistol and cocked her head. “’Tis clear I gain the satisfaction of having caused ye pain, but what do ye get out of it, Fraser?”
“Perhaps the satisfaction of feeling pain brought on by a beautiful lass barely clothed.” Good God, why did he have to point out the state of her undress—again—and why did he so badly want her to touch him, even if with a fist?
Her mouth fell open at his comment. “I am more clothed now than ye were in the barracks.”
“Well, if ye wish to take off your nightgown to even the score, by all means I’ll not stop ye.” His gaze roved over her chest and the outlines of her breasts against the linen. Perhaps Dirk had hit him harder than he’d realized, for he’d nearly forgotten how much he was supposed to hate her.
“Ye’re a rogue.”
“Aye, verra likely.” He lifted his gaze to hers.
“I’ll nay be kissing ye, and I’ll nay be hitting ye, either. Though I want to desperately.”
“Och, lass, I want ye to as well.” And he didn’t mean the latter.
Ballocks, but he was in serious trouble…
* * *
Go back to bed.
The words shouted in her head, demanding she heed them, but Jenny’s bare feet remained rooted to the floor. She’d been lying awake in bed and had gotten up to splash water on her face when a shadow had moved beneath her door.
Jenny had opened her door a crack when the shadow departed and watched him as he checked each door handle in the corridor. His footsteps were silent, and even the press of his thumb against her door handle had been quiet. She’d slipped out as silently as he had done once he’d gone up the stairs. She had followed. Toran wasn’t the only one who could be silent. She’d watched him check each door and snuck up behind him as he’d stared out over the moors and Cnàmhan Loch, the same way she’d done a thousand times.
He had no weapon drawn and didn’t seem to be in any hurry. So, while he was currently sneaking through her castle, she didn’t think he did it with intent to harm. Not in the moment, anyway. If he were spying, as she suspected, whatever information he passed on would put them all in danger.
But she hadn’t counted on the danger he posed to her senses, even knowing the threat he posed to her world.
She was too close to him, barely clothed. He was right, no matter how much she argued, that she was barely dressed. Her night rail was thin, the linen fine. If he were to