Page 70 of Bride of Ice
Had Ian left it behind by accident? Or had Colban had taken it?
Whatever the truth, it was clear Colban meant to keep it.
That was going to be a problem. Colban might not be able to read. But he could find someone who did. And he could study drawings. She couldn’t give him access to anything that might compromise the security of Rivenloch.
She’d hoped to surreptitiously slip Ian’s notebook into her satchel. If Colban didn’t know its value, she wasn’t about to alert him to it.
But when she rose to return the crutch, he’d neatly slipped into the space between her and the table, blocking her access.
She could see by the flicker in his dark eyes he knew exactly what he was doing. Which meant the time for mincing words was over.
“Give it to me.”
He reached for the crutch. “Give what to ye?”
She pulled the crutch out of his reach. “Hand it over.”
“What are ye talkin’ about?”
“You know.”
He reached out again. She pulled the crutch back again.
“I don’t know.”
“Give it to me,” she said, “and I’ll give you the crutch.”
He lowered his hand and frowned in disbelief. “Ye’d keep a crutch from a lame man?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Only a lame man who’s a thief.”
“A thief? Me?” His surprise and dismay seemed almost genuine. Almost.
“Stand aside.”
“Give me the crutch, and I will.”
She cautiously handed him the crutch.
He tucked it under his arm. With a glare of hurt meant to invoke pity, he limped aside.
Her smug victory was cut short when she slid the basin over and found nothing. She scoured the table, beside the basin, among the bottles, behind the ewer, under the table. It was gone.
“What did you do with it?”
“With what?”
“Is it on your person?” She quickly perused him, letting her eyes trace the curve of his shoulders, the expanse of his chest, his cocked hips, his bare calves. Where could he have stashed it?
His eyes narrowed to smoky slits as he opened his arms in invitation. “Would ye like to search me?”
Aye, in fact, she would. But she wasn’t about to say so. She’d be a fool to give him that advantage.
She’d never admit it, but she felt a strange, inexplicable current when the Highlander drew near. A curious force that threw her off-kilter and made her feel dangerously vulnerable. Standing this close, she could feel the heat shimmering off his skin and sense the harnessed power of his muscles. His musky, masculine scent dizzied her. And when he gazed at her like that—his warm brown eyes smoldering like coals and dancing like sparks…
Aye, she’d like to search him. She’d like to tear his clothing from him and explore every inch.
But she had to ignore that urge.
