Page 23 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
“Put me down,” she shrieked, pummeling her fists into his solid, muscular back.
“Och, I will. Just nae yet.”
And then, he turned toward the water.
“Wait? Where are ye going?”
“Och, just fer a wee stroll,” he said playfully.
“Nae,” she cried, now dreading what she knew he was going to do. “Put me down.”
Nearer and nearer, they got, until the fear of getting thrown into the freezing cold river was too much.
“Alright. Alright,” she panted. “Put me down and I’ll tell ye.”
Taking her by the waist, Keane slid her slowly down the front of his body, inch by inch, until she felt the ground beneath her feet. But he did not let go, and piercing her with his deep blue eyes, he kept a light grip on her.
Elsie’s heart thumped in her chest, but it was no longer fear of the water that had her pulse racing. Her stomach was doing somersaults as she gazed up into the smoldering eyes of the man she had hated. Yet, in that moment, hate was not what she felt at all. In fact, she could not name what she felt, for she had never once felt it.
For a long moment, he remained standing there, looking at her. While she wanted to step away, she found herself locked in place, pinned to the spot by his intense gaze, and breathless at how her body reacted to him.
“Me boots?” he said finally, his voice thick and low.
Absently, she lifted her hand and pointed to the tree she had hidden them in.
“They’re over there,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
A slow smile formed on his mouth, and then, a playfulness danced in his eyes.
“Highlanders always repay their debts,” he growled. “Careful what games ye play.”
Her stomach lurched at his words, for she could feel the promise of playful retribution lingering. A promise, she was surprised to discover, that excited her.
Feeling his hands loosen on her waist, he then took a step back and turned away, leaving Elsie both breathless and more aroused than she had ever felt in her life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Having fun?” Alisdair smirked when Keane returned to the gathered men, with Elspeth following a little way behind.
Keane tried to hold in his smirk, but failed. “Why nae?” He shrugged. “It’s nae like I’ve had much o’ it o’ late.”
“I thought ye wanted her tae hate ye?” Alisdair murmured smugly.
“Ye dinnae think if I had thrown her intae the river that she would?”
Elspeth was only a few feet away now, and as Alisdair mounted his horse, he smirked. “Ye would never have gone through with it.”
O’ course, I wouldnae. The woman would freeze tae death before we reached the next village.
Elspeth approached her mare, and, turning toward her, he took her gently by the waist and lifted her onto the beast. Their eyes met again, and catching her soft smile, he suddenly felt something squeeze him inside.
Alisdair was right. He did want her to hate him, and yet, there was something about her that brought something out of him. A feeling of wanting to be around her, to impress her. Dare he say it, for her to like him.
Ye’re playing with fire.
Yes, he was. The day before, he had planned to kill her. Now, he wondered what those soft lips would feel like against his own. She was getting under his skin, and she wasn’t even trying. Shaking his head to try and free himself from his intrusive thoughts, he turned away and moved to his own horse.
I cannae dae this. She’s a useful asset only.
