For the Highlander's Pleasure

“As a foreigner to our lands, how will you know the difference?” Her intent expression revealed more than polite interest.

Lady Violet was worried about someone in the forest. An outcast? A banished lover, perhaps? The thought rankled with surprising force.

“You wish to protect an exile?” He lowered his voice, shifting closer so they would not be overheard by the servers and musicians that drifted in and out of the hall. A maid with a lute warbled softly while the earl slept.

She stood abruptly, her shoulders stiff with offense, or at least a good pretense of it.

“I bid you good-night, sir. The keep is small, but there is a chamber at the top of the west tower. One of the servers will show you the way.”

This was a conquering hero’s welcome? No wonder nary a Lowlander had answered the earl’s call. They must know that Lady Violet was a hard-hearted lass. Unlike Finn, however, they did not know she possessed a secret, seductive side that would make her well worth pursuing. Either that, or perhaps they knew she secretly pined for some ne’er-do-well who had been cast out of the keep.

He shoved back from the table, refusing to let her run off to her chamber and hide. Or worse, send a warning to whomever she hoped to protect in that forest surrounding Caladan.

“I would prefer you accompany me.” He told himself it was because he needed to watch over her tonight in case she tried to send a missive outside the keep. But he recognized a strong desire to be the one to thaw this woman’s chilly exterior and experience that inner heat he’d glimpsed earlier.

Him. No one else.

“Sir, I do not think that would be—”

“I believe you owe me at least this one small courtesy after you spoke falsely to me this afternoon.”

She arched an eyebrow, as if taking his measure anew.

“I believe I was a bit too courteous already.” She laid her fingers lightly upon his arm, cautious with her touch as she lowered her voice. “By chance alone, it seems I have bestowed more favors upon you than I have on any other man.”

She blushed as she reminded him of his unexpected glimpse of her bare breasts. Her glare reminded him that she had not bestowed those favors willingly. Her honesty took him by surprise.

And yet…ahh. The memory. He’d smile forever at that one captured moment in time.

When her hand slid from his sleeve, he followed her from the great hall, plucking a torch from the wall for their journey through the dark and drafty keep. Loose stone crunched under his boot as he stepped, and the scant tapestries hung limp with time and dust.

“I did not plan it thus, Lady Violet.” He caught up so he had an excuse to take her arm, guiding it through his so he could keep her by his side. “I thought I had stumbled into a fair dream when I spied you in the river. A cold day for bathing, was it not?”

Her nails bit lightly at his sleeve as she took a step on an uneven bit of stone.

“I did not seek the river to bathe,” she began, then shook her head impatiently. “I took a spill from the horse and hoped to rinse off my skirts.”

He remembered the rapturous look upon her face when he’d first spied her. Had his fanciful imagination supplied that facet of his recollection? He certainly hadn’t imagined the time she’d taken to wash the skin beneath her neckline. His breath grew heavy with the want of her as they strode into the darkness, leaving the noise of the musicians and servers in the hall far behind.

“You seemed to enjoy it,” he observed, his words scratching on a hoarse note.

“Nay.” She denied it so adamantly he almost believed her. Certainly he wanted to, as it would ease his hunger not to view her as an eager maid in sore need of a man’s touch.

She stopped suddenly in the silent corridor. A door had appeared in front of them, arising out of the darkness thanks to the torch he carried. He guessed the door hid the staircase and he moved to open it, but she reached out to halt his hand.

“I have led us astray,” she admitted, her eyes avoiding his as her neck cloth slipped down her shoulder once again. “We passed the stairs.”

The view of her unadorned, pale throat captured his attention, drawing his gaze down to the bodice of her gown. A silver brooch held a shawl about her shoulders, but even that was off-center as if she had shifted it about. The rapid beat of her heart would have been evident in the small twitch of a vein at her neck even if he hadn’t felt the thump for himself through the palm of her hand.

“It is sometimes enjoyable to find oneself led astray,” he admitted, knowing he could not resist the temptation she presented.