Page 67 of Bride of Mist
She blushed. “Right.” It sounded so much more potent, more real when he said it aloud. “I just want you to know…I…didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Och aye. O’ course not.”
“’Twas likely only the excitement of the battle.”
“Sure,” he agreed with a nod. “Your heart was beatin’ fast. Your blood was runnin’ hot. ’Twas only natural ye’d…well…” He let his words trail off.
For some reason, what he’d said only made things worse. She choked down a half-chewed bite of apple. “I just don’t want you to think…”
“Aye?”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression?”
“That I have…feelings…for you.”
“Ah.” Dagger in hand, he frowned down at the hard cheese. “Because ye most assuredly donot.”
“Right. Aye.” She hesitated. “I mean nay.” Was he hurt by that? Didhehave feelings forher?“That is to say, I don’thateyou.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, carving off a slice of cheese for her. “’Twould be disappointin’ to think ye go around kissin’ men ye hate, ye know, just for spite.”
She scowled. Was he toying with her? “I don’tgo aroundkissing anyone.”
She swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he replied, “Is that right? Because ye seem fairly skilled at it.”
She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, if that’s the way ye kiss a man yedon’t hate,”he said, handing her the cheese with a wink, “it makes me wonder how ye kiss a man ye have feelin’s for.”
She didn’t know how to answer that, so she bit into the cheese, chewing away her dissatisfaction with the way the conversation was going.
As he cut off a chunk of bacon, he mused, “On the other hand, ye can certainly knock a man on his arse ere he knows what’s hit him…’Tis amazin’.”
She lowered her eyes to her lap. So he’d felt that as well? It wasn’t onlyherworld that had been turned upside down by the kiss?
“That kind of passion and focus,” he gushed, “they’re a gift.”
Now he was making her blush. But his praise pleased Feiyan, who had more experience crushing men’s mouths with her knuckles than her lips.
“When ye drew back just so,” he marveled, “hesitatin’ a moment before ye went all in, ’twas like a dance.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flamed. Her heart raced. Ithadbeen like a dance. Pushing and pulling. Advance and retreat. Giving and taking. All to the musical strains of desire. But this discussion was hardly exorcising her lust. In fact, it was making things worse.
Completely abashed, she mumbled, “Aye, but… Well, enough about kissing.”
“Kissin’?” he said in surprise, offering her a small chunk of bacon. “Och nay, I was talkin’ about your fightin’ skills.”
Mischief glimmered in his gaze. The wicked knave had sown confusion on purpose.
She snatched the bacon out of his fingers, muttering, “For shite’s sake.”
But as vexed as she was, his low chuckle of response still curled around her ears like the intriguing purr of a wildcat.
Dougal couldn’t deny it was entertaining to make the ferocious wee lass blush. But mostly it served his purposes to vex her. She wouldn’t make the mistake of kissing him again. Given who she was, that would be better for both of them.
They ate in silence after that. He refilled his costrel with water from a spring that fed the river, and they continued their journey. No more thieves materialized to delay their progress.
