"I’m miles from the nearest dwelling. I have no visitors, apart from the people who bring my supplies up from Lyon House." The way he hitched at the slipping sheet reeked of offended virtue. "If I brought twenty women here, I wouldn’t be rubbing your nose in it."
Every muscle in her body tensed. "Have you?"
"Have I what?" he asked huffily, folding his arms over his bare chest.
"Have you brought twenty women here?"
"It’s none of your business," he said snidely. "You gave me permission to pursue my entertainment elsewhere, remember?"
Damn it, she had. Even then, she hadn’t liked
the idea, but she’d been trying to play fair. Right now, playing fair could go to the dickens. "Discreetly."
He made an exasperated sound deep in his throat and spread his hands to indicate the beautiful if rather desolate view. "I’m stuck in a blasted tower in the middle of nowhere. How much more discreet can a man be?"
His theatrical gesture threatened to dislodge the sheet. Her attention dipped to his waist where crumpled linen drooped to reveal a nest of golden curls at the base of his stomach.
She didn’t want to blush, but she did. She didn’t want to keep looking, but she did.
Her gloved hands closed into fists at her sides, as she couldn’t help remembering what he looked like naked. Their long separation had done nothing to diminish the vividness of that particular memory.
"Emily, for God’s sake…" he said in a strangled voice, as shaking hands hauled the sheet back to his waist.
Her cheeks might feel ready to catch fire, but that didn’t stop her from subjecting his body to a slow inspection before she raised her eyes to his face. She’d remembered him as handsome, almost offensively so, but after all these months apart, his leonine magnificence struck her like a blow.
Hamish was thinner than he’d been in London, and he must have gone shirtless in the summer, because the skin of his chest and arms was tanned deep gold, heightening the leonine impression. When she’d seen him naked, the dim candlelight or her own innocence must have prevented her from taking in a lot of details. Like the way gilt hair curled across his chest and arrowed down his flat stomach to disappear beneath that dratted concealing sheet.
Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth, and her blood set up a deep slow pulse. Whatever he might say, her husband hadn’t spent all these months locked away in scholarly pursuits. Unless her recollection betrayed her, the muscles of his arms and torso were more defined than they’d been after the wedding.
"If you keep looking at me like that, you’ll discover just what the local lassies have been lining up to enjoy," he sniped.
"You have the nerve to taunt me?"
"You have the nerve to hiss at me like a scalded cat, when you sent me away in the first place?"
Emily hardly heard what he said. She’d always acknowledged the beauty of that bass drawl, but had it always made her very bones vibrate?
She licked parched lips, as she studied the man she’d married. How on earth had she missed what a splendid creature he was? After their long separation, it was as if she saw him for the first time. And what she saw was more compelling than she’d ever imagined.
"Emily?"
She came back to herself enough to note the bewilderment underlying the irritation.
"How many lassies?" Where did that husky tone come from?
Hamish glared at her as if she’d lost her mind. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn’t crowing over the lack of incriminating evidence uncovered in her frantic search. But she wasn’t quite at that point yet.
"You may as well tell me. I’ll find out anyway," she said coldly. Once he did, she’d hunt down every one of those Scottish trollops and scratch out their eyes.
He sighed and ran his fingers through the tumbled mane of golden hair. "You’re not going to let this go, are you?"
"No."
Hamish turned and stared across the hills. She appreciated the back view of her husband almost as much as the front one. Especially since when he looked away, she could feast on the sight unobserved.
Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, and the sheet outlined firm buttocks and long, strong legs. Those acres of smooth golden skin across his back were taut. He must be having trouble finding the words to confess his sins.
"Have you lost count?" she asked with a hint of acid.