Page 100 of Laird of Flint
A grin he instantly understood.
“Nay,” he warned.
But she wasn’t about to heed his warning. She wiggled her fingers again.
“Wench,” he hissed, squeezing harder.
“I’m tryin’ to get them out,” she told him with false earnestness, “but I just can’t seem to…” She fluttered her fingers ferociously.
He grimaced. Squirmed. Chuckled. But he was helpless to pull her fingers away with his bandaged hand.
“Oh dear,” she said, “I’m quite trapped under your arm. Perhaps if I try with my other fingers…”
“Nay!” he burst out.
“But I’m afraid I’m caught,” she protested, edging her other hand closer.
He narrowed threatening eyes at her. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Yet how could she resist?
“If ye lift your arm a wee bit,” she offered, “perhaps I could withdraw my hand.”
“Willyou withdraw your hand?”
“Of course.”
But there was still a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She could feel it.
And he could see it. “I don’t believe you.”
“What?” She pretended to be hurt by his words. “I thought we were friends.”
“And I thought you were a trustworthy lass.”
“Yet ye’re the one who’s trapped my poor hand under your big, fat arm.” She wiggled her fingers to prove it.
“Bloody—” He twitched again.
“I wonder if ye’re ticklish underbotharms,” she mused.
“Nay!” he said on a laugh, reflexively clamping down his other arm.
But that didn’t stop her. She was having too much fun. She walked her free fingers across his chest and began digging under his other arm.
“Nay, you don’t,” he gritted out, trying to fight her.
Her small fingers burrowed under his arm as easily as a mouse under a stump. And aye, he was just as ticklish there.
His laugh, peppered with oaths, was delightfully full-throated as he thrashed against her attack.
But then she made the mistake of letting the first hand slide free.
Now he could seize her with his unbandaged hand. And that was exactly what he did.
Her wrist was suddenly gripped in his iron fist. His eyes gleamed with triumph and a wicked promise of revenge.
She couldn’t allow that. But there was one thing she could do to stop his vengeance. One thing that would destroy his resolve. The thing she’d been dreaming of doing all morn.
