Page 49 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
Gordon wagged a finger. “Ye only get one question, lass.”
“Aye, but surely that ispartof the same question?” she insisted, a note of frustration in her voice.
“Ye cannae trick two answers out of me.” He took his turn before she could argue the point, his bishop gliding in to steal her pawn.
“Yer stockings,” he purred, rolling the chess piece between his fingers. “Take ‘em off slowly.”
She scoffed, narrowing her pretty eyes at him. “If I cannae ask what was clearly part of the same question, then ye cannae choose what it is I remove. Indeed,yeshould have been more specific with yer rules.”
She muttered rudely under her breath and slid her hands beneath the waistline of her skirt, fiddling with something underneath. Gordon’s eyebrow raised in silent appreciation, imagining what she might be doing, letting his thoughts tip toward wilder territory.
As she wrested her pannier out from under the skirt, tossing the strange contraption aside, he wasn’t as disappointed as he’d thought.
“Dinnae wear those things,” he growled, still toying with her captured chess piece. “Yer figure needs nay help.”
Glancing down at the chess board, Anna mulled over the pieces, tapping her plump lips with her index finger, drawing his eye to that sweet mouth. For a moment, he thought she might be ignoring him, and wondered what pleasant punishment he could muster for such defiance.
“I thought ye said it wasnae a man’s place to tell a woman—much lesshiswoman—what to wear,” she remarked, still not looking up at him. “Has yer opinion changed as rapidly as yer reason for bringin’ me here to be yer bride?”
Perhaps she didn’t realize it, but calling herself his woman was akin to tossing barrels of whiskey onto a bonfire and chucking a torch in after. Incendiary. Explosive. And swift in its engulfing burn, igniting his desire, his need, until it took on a life of its own. His craving for her was a feral beast, tangled in ropes, straining to be free, and those restraints were on the brink of fraying—snapping completely.
She finally glanced up at him, a sultry look in her eyes, as if she had knownexactlywhat she had said.
“Make yer move,” he rasped, barely holding onto his discipline.
She eased her pawn forward, taking his. “What befell yer family, Gordon?”
“Misfortune,” he replied, his blood white-hot in his veins. “Death.”
“At whose hand?”
His eye flickered. Couldn’t she tell he had no interest in discussing the past, when she was right there, alone with him in that private cove? Didn’t she understand that it was foolish to dwell on what couldn’t be changed, on what had been lost, when there was so much living to be done, so much to gain?
“Thieves. Long gone.” He moved his piece before she could press the matter further, taking her pawn with his queen, not caringthat he had put his most powerful piece in such a vulnerable position.
Her eyebrows rose as she observed his move. “Why did ye do that?”
“Take it off,” he said thickly. “All of it. In honor of me queen’s sacrifice.”
Shaking her head, Anna pushed his queen back to her previous position. “I sacrifice me pawn instead.”
Biting her lip, oblivious to the effect it had on him, she fumbled for the fastening of her skirt. Keeping her eyes on him, she pushed the thick silk over her hips and down her thighs, drawing the cumbersome thing away from herself. Yet, she took pains to fold it and set it aside neatly.
“Enough of the game,” Gordon growled, those ropes in his mind losing their battle against the beast within him. “Ask yer questions. For each that I answer, ye remove somethin’ more.”
At first, he thought she might refuse, her gaze flitting up to the cliff high above. She was nervous that someone might see; he could tell by the way she hid herself, tucking her knees to her chest, one arm wrapped around them, making herself as small as possible.
“Nay one can see us here,” he told her. “There’s a ledge. It conceals us.”
Her gaze snapped back to him. “Why should that concern me?”
“Ye tell me. Ye’re the one who seems concerned.”
Her throat bobbed, her cheeks flooding with that beautiful shade of pink. “I daenae want to ask a question.” She paused. “Remove yer eyepatch. Show me, and I’ll remove everythin’ I’m wearin’.”
He leaned back on his elbow, staring at her with his good eye narrowed. Of all the things he’d thought she might say, that hadn’t featured in his mind—that she would ever want to see the mess that those bastards had made of his other one.
Since it happened, he hadn’t shown anyone but the healer. Not even his uncles knew what was underneath the patch. Not even Sophia. In truth, even he wasn’t certain what it looked like; he hadn’t dared to see his reflection in any mirror, leaving it where it belonged: hidden.
