“Don’t worry, Angel, I’ll keep you warm.”
As she reached for her door, he heard her mutter, “That’s what I’m worried about.”
By the time he reached the other side of the car, she was already climbing out to meet him. He took her hand and slowly walked—not dragged—her to the bench.
She sat down facing the water and Duncan straddled the bench beside her. He tugged her into the V of his legs, hooking her legs over one of his, and wrapping his arms around her. “Is that better? You’re no’ too cold?”
“No.” She hesitated for a second before she snuggled into him.
She fit perfectly in his arms. Fiona had been a tall, slender woman, whereas Donna was a tiny, curved bundle. Her size brought out the protective streak in him—that and the way her kind heart made her a target for everyone around her.
Fiona had been totally different in that respect, her big-city upbringing meant she could see through a liar within seconds, and she’d had no problem dealing with them either. She’d toss her hair, look down her nose and shut them down with an icy word or two. And she’d been spectacular when she did it. Donna, on the other hand, needed a keeper, preferably someone who could scare away anyone who’d take advantage of her—and he was just the man for the job.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked as he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin.
She was silent for a while and then said, “No.”
He burst out laughing, his arms tightening around her as she scowled up at him.
“I’ve created a monster,” he said. “One who has no trouble saying no to me.”
Her look of shock was quickly followed by a smug little smile. It warmed his soul to see her so pleased with herself. They sat quietly, watching the waves as the sky darkened with the threat of rain.
“If you’re no’ going to tell me what’s wrong, how about you sing me a song?”
She arched an eyebrow at him as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m not sure you’re sophisticated enough to appreciate my musical stylings.”
“That can’t be right. I’m a well-respected artist, top of my field. I’ve got culture coming out of my a—” She slapped a hand over his mouth, and he laughed behind it.
“I’ll sing for you, if you’ll do something for me,” she said as she dropped her hand.
“A trade. I can do that. What do you want? Another orgasm? I’d be happy to provide one for you.” He waited for the familiar blush to paint her cheeks pink.
“You’re terrible,” she admonished as her eyelashes lowered, taking her eyes from his.
That was something else that was different from Fiona. His wife had been hard to shock, and she’d had no problem talking about sex. But his Donna was shy.
He kissed her head. “Tell me what you want then.”
“You have to answer whatever question I ask.”
“Okay then.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t you worried what I might ask you?”
“If you didnae blush at the mere thought of sex, then aye, I might be worried, but I think whatever you ask me will probably be tame.”
She smacked him on the chest.
“First you start telling me no, now you’re hitting me. What’s next? Imprisoning me in a tower?”
“You’d deserve it.” She stuck her wee nose in the air. “You’re hell to live with.”
There was no arguing with that. “Where’s my song?”
“Fine.” She let out a sigh and pushed away from him to sit up straight.
He expected her to look around to see if anyone was nearby, but she didn’t. She just opened her mouth and belted out a tune. Well, that’s what he assumed it was supposed to be. It was kind of hard to tell because it was nothing like any other music he’d heard in his lifetime. The notes seemed to be on a sliding scale only Donna understood, and every time she sang the chorus, the tune was different. It was painfully bad. The kind of bad that could be used to torture terrorists into surrendering.