“No, I’m talking about…us.”

He looked stern, and a muscle flickered in his cheek. “You’ve spent all night fretting, haven’t ye?”

“Yes,” she admitted in a low voice, staring blindly at her pony’s stubby black mane. “It’s best if I leave tomorrow. I’m sure given the situation, you won’t mind lending me a coach and driver as far as Skye.”

When she glanced up, that formidable jaw had set like granite. “No, lassie, if you’re going, I’ll take ye.”

She made a sound humiliatingly like a whimper. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

He frowned. “You’re no’ frightened of me, are you, Marina? I couldn’t bear to think that’s true. If ye don’t want to share my bed, I’ll accept your choice.”

“Don’t be a fool, Mackinnon.” She blinked away stinging tears. “You know I’m tempted. If I wasn’t so tempted, I could stay. I want to stay.”

His frown darkened. “Then stay, for God’s sake.” He reached for her hand where it held the reins, but she jerked back.

“That only means torture both of us.”

His lips turned down. “The torture will be worse if ye leave me.”

Marina knew what it cost him to make that admission. She shook her head, more in perplexity than denial. “How on earth have we come to this pass? A couple of days ago, I didn’t even like you.”

“I liked you.”

Despite her wretchedness, her lips twitched with reluctant amusement. “No, you didn’t. I offended every ounce of your masculine pride.”

He gave her one of those half-smiles that became so dear. “Ye still do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

She raised one shaking hand to keep him at bay, although he made no attempt to come closer. “Please don’t be charming. I can’t bear it if you’re charming.” Her voice cracked. “Order me around. Tell me you’re always right. Trample my feelings.”

He looked troubled, although she’d hoped to lighten the heavy atmosphere. “Aye, well, here’s a command for ye.”

“I’m listening.”

Marina braced for him to declare he meant to have her in his bed and after the way she’d encouraged him, she owed him her consent. Shame tasted like acid on her tongue. Her hungry kisses yesterday must convince any man that she was ready to yield.

But when he spoke, he surprised her. “Don’t decide yet. Let’s spend the day as planned.”

Fergus still respected her autonomy. He still respected her. Relief made her sag in the saddle. “Then what happens tomorrow?” she asked in a muffled voice.

He shrugged, although she could see this wasn’t a subject he took lightly. “Tomorrow ye may change your mind about becoming my mistress.”

Her lips flattened. “I can be quite as stubborn as you.”

“I’m sure you can.” His voice deepened into alluring sincerity, and she had to fight against edging closer to that alluring baritone. “I’ve only just found you, Marina. Give me more.”

Her hands clenched on the reins, until her placid pony shifted in protest. She’d never found it so difficult to discourage an unwanted suitor. Perhaps because, in this case, the suitor was very much wanted. “I’ve said I won’t give you anything.”

“I’ll take your company.”

“While doing your best to change my mind.”

He frowned. “While showing you that you can trust me to look after you.”

The awful fact was that she did trust him to care for her, at least on a physical level. What she didn’t trust was her ability to leave Achnasheen as the same heart-whole woman who had arrived. When she saw him in the courtyard this morning, she’d faced the terrifying revelation that much more was at stake here than her chastity. She didn’t trust herself not to fall in love with this impossible man.

Per pietà, she was already half in love with him. Anyone who flicked through the pages of sketches she’d made of him yesterday would see that at a glance.

Fergus Mackinnon wasn’t the man for her. Yet he was the one man who made her burn.

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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