Page 89 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“Oh, I do try, lass,” he said, and flashed her a look that sizzled hotter than the flames of the fire.
He was clearly referring to more than his cooking skills, and her cheeks flushed. When he turned back toward the fire, her gaze lingered on the strong planes of his face in the warm glow of the firelight. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Even while simply turning a spit over the fire, there was an untamed quality about him that sent her blood rushing through her veins. When Roderick looked up and caught her staring at him, their gazes locked and held across the fire. The flames licked at the corner of her vision and seemed to heat her from inside.
God help her, this Highlander was like a potent elixir of temptation.
* * *
After they finished eating, he and Lily sat a foot apart on the plaid staring into the fire, while the tension between them felt like a fraying rope that was pulled too tight. On Roderick’s side, it was fraying to the breaking point. He had been tortured by her soft body rubbing against his for two long days on horseback. And last night, he had slept within arm’s reach of her, yearning for her.
Unless he was badly mistaken, Lily shared his desire. She had spoken as if she’d had many lovers—I don’t need a husband forthat—so there was no reason for them not to indulge in a night of pleasure. Still, Roderick resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms. Lily was dependent on him for her safety, so he needed to be certain she wished to act on the hunger flaming between them.
He ignored the desire pounding through his veins as best he could and set his mind to the subtle battle of persuading her to come with him to Islay.
“’Tis nearly the longest night of the year.” And he knew what he’d like to do with it. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on his plan. “It will be Yuletide soon.”
Lily looked relieved that he had raised what appeared to be a benign topic. “How do you Highlanders celebrate it?” she asked.
“The women make special foods, and we hang greenery about our homes—including mistletoe for kissing.” He gave her a sideways glance that made her breath catch. “Everyone gathers together for days of feasting.”
“That doesn’t sound so different from how we English celebrate the Advent season,” she said.
“I suspect ye might find some of our other customs barbaric,” he said. “We’re good Christians, but we remember the Old Ways.”
“Barbaric?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “Tell me.”
“We build great bonfires,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “dance, make music, drink, and listen to long tales.”
“I can see you have fond memories of them,” she said with a soft expression.
“Ye should come with me to the Isle of Islay for the Yuletide,” he said. “The Lord of Isles, the great chieftain of the MacDonalds who rules over all the Western Isles and most of the rest of the Highlands, will be there. The celebrations will be grand, with mountains of food and the best musicians in all the Highlands.”
Lily met his suggestion with silence and pressed her lips into a stubborn line, but he thought he saw longing in her eyes. He ignored a twinge of guilt over not telling her his true purpose. Whether Lily was destined to be his clan’s next seer or no, she would be better off wintering with his clan, where he could ensure her safety.
“I know how ye like long tales,” he said, giving her a wink. “There’s sure to be plenty of those.”
“InGaelic,” she said.
“All the better for learning it.”
“What about those winter storms ye said would keep me here?” she asked, cocking her head.
“Sailing through the islands isn’t nearly as dangerous as on the open sea,” he explained. “There are plenty of places for a boat to shelter during a storm.”
“Going there would take me even farther away from London,” she said. “How would I ever get back to where I belong?”
Where did Lily belong? If she were truly the next seer, shouldn’t she have an inkling she belonged with his clan? His grandmother never seemed surprised by anything, but she’d had many years to hone her gift.
“Merchant ships visit from time to time,” he said. “Once the winter storms are past, it will not be difficult to find a ship to take ye to London.”
Lily was quiet for a long moment. He wondered why she was so torn, when going with him was clearly the safer choice. But she was a stubborn lass who wanted to believe she could take care of herself. And perhaps she could in London. But not here.
“This place—this island—where you want to take me,” she finally said, “is that where you live?”
“Nay, but I’ll stay through Yuletide to see that you’re settled,” he said. “Then I must return to my duties on the Isle of Skye.”
Ach, the lass looked relieved to hear it. That was a blow to his pride. And yet he did not believe the fire between them was kindled all on his side. If all Lily wanted was a night of passion with no further entanglement, he ought to be relieved.
