The man was thick. Not physically, well technically he was very well-muscled, but at this moment she meant mentally. And why was he prodding like this? It was a raw subject for her. “It’s none of your business, but I doubt it very much.”
His hand at her waist tightened and he drew her closer. “Ye…unmarried?”
Her breath caught as his heat began to seep in through her dress. She tsked, looking up at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I ken a few things,” he said, dropping his face closer to hers. “I ken yer blood sings with passion. I can feel it even now.”
She opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. He was right, of course, and her passionate nature had gotten her into a fair bit of trouble already. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not.” His mouth dropped even closer to hers. “I can prove it too.”
“How?” Had she just asked that out loud? Why had she done that? But she already knew. She was attracted to him, the rapid beat of her heart affirmed that fact with every thump. And part of her, the very bad part, wanted what he was about to do.
By way of answer, he dropped his mouth to hers, his lips pressing hers closed. Fire and heat, and sweet, stinging passion shot through her veins, making her gasp in delight. He lifted his mouth again but only for a moment before he kissed her again and then a third time, each building the tension in her body until she wanted to crush herself against that large chest.
What had she just done?
Chapter Two
Exile lifted his head, looking down into Diana’s dark, half-lidded eyes. Bloody Christ, there had been more passion in those small kisses than entire nights he’d spent with other women. He wasn’t comparing, there was no comparison. Something about her scent, like fresh snow, and her taste, a hint of peppermint, and the feel of her lips, so soft and so eager. His body vibrated with untapped passion.
Then he cursed, silently at least. He wasn’t supposed to want this woman. Would resisting Diana be easier or harder if his fiancée wasn’t some faceless lady with only a name? Fiona MacFarland was some laird’s daughter who’d been promised to Ewan since childhood. All he could see right now was the woman in front of him, her plump lips parted as though she were waiting for another kiss.
Damn, he wanted to give one to her.
“So, have I proven my point?” The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said them.
For a moment, her eyes clouded with confusion, then she snapped back and away from him. The loss of her soft body pressed against his filled him with regret and he longed to pull her close again. But he’d spoken those words for a reason. They needed
distance between them. He should have never kissed her in the first place. He just hadn’t been able to help himself.
“You’ve made several points,” she said, her voice taking on a sharp edge that cut as deeply as any knife.
He winced. “I’m sorry, lass. I should not have done it. A man better than myself would never take advantage of an innocent woman and I—”
“Enough.” She let go of his arm and began walking away from him. Lifting her skirts, she picked up the pace, clearly intent upon catching Minnie. “You assume too much.”
“What does that mean?” he asked starting after her. “What do I assume?”
She huffed, lifting her skirts high enough that he got a view of her ankles, very slender, lovely little things that tapered off into silk slippers. “I don’t want or need your apology. I am a woman who made a choice to kiss you.”
He reached her side and rather pointedly slipped an arm about her waist. “Did ye now?” The way he remembered it, she’d refused to acknowledge there was something between them and he’d been proving a point. Honestly, she was rather fixated on being in charge of her own destiny. Was she just the strong sister of the Chase girls?
“I did,” she huffed, trying to slip from his embrace.
“And if I stopped and tried to kiss you again?”
She hit him with her hand square in the stomach. Clearly he had a soft spot. He let out a soft whoosh of breath. “Then I shall tell the Duke of Darlington.”
His head snapped back and he arched a brow because she had him there. “But ye don’t want to marry me either. Ye’ve said so.”
She let out a harrumph. “Might be worth it, just to prove my point.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Ye’re a prickly one.”
“I am.” She held her chin higher. “Bossy too. Loud, opinionated. I’ve even been called brash.” Her skirts swished as they continued to walk. “You might find me beautiful now but just wait.”
He pressed his lips together as he gave her a pointed look. She was convinced that her personality would deter him. The truth was, he liked her just the way she was. “If you ask me, ye’re pretty near perfect. Yer problem isna that ye’re too much of anything. Ye’re just English.”