Page 28 of Laird of Twilight
“We did. All part of that merry company.” An arm’s length separated them. He could easily move to kiss her again. Was she inviting it? Her mix of innocence and coyness confounded him. “I must go,” he said. “I have work to do in the study. I had planned to work through the evening.”
“On the fairy lore? I could help.”
“Some other time, perhaps. The less time we spend together now, the better.”
“If we are discovered alone here, it will not matter what we did, or did not do, in the end. Others will make assumptions. But we will know the truth.”
“Wewill know, aye. That is more important than the rest of it.”
She sighed. “I was being honest with you, Lord Struan. Even a slight compromise will be enough for me. I will hold you to nothing, I promise.”
“It is not in my character to ruin a young woman and abandon her.”
“Only the hint of it will be enough. No need to feel an obligation.”
He huffed. “Why would you be satisfied a hint of scandal?”
“I have my reasons.”
He frowned. What was this? Another part of a ruse? “Few men would respect the terms of such an offer.”
“You would.”
“You,” he murmured, “cannot know what I would do.”
“I do.” Her eyes crinkled. “I know.”
“You seem like an innocent. A blithe and bonny girl,” he added, and impulsively took a step, bent down, and kissed her. Swift and powerful, surprising himself. The responding touch of her lips, deepening the kiss, fed a sudden flame in him.
Sliding his fingers into the silken mass of her curling, damp, night-dark hair, he cradled her head in his hand; slanting his mouth over hers, he felt her buckle against him, heard and felt her sigh. Her lips opened to his, and he grazed his tongue over her lower lip. That touch shuddered through him.
He had not intended this. A moment only, a warning to show her the risk she invited. Then he would remove himself from the situation. Yet he felt overwhelmed quickly, as if he had taken hold of a flame, daring to be burned. He forced himself to pull away. Her eyes were closed, her lips full and rosy, cheeks flushed.
“Lovely,” she said in a dreamy voice. Her eyes opened. They sparkled.
“Oh no, you lass,” he said, his hands still on her shoulders. “This is no foolery. There are consequences.”
“You think I want to trick you because you are a wealthy man? I do not.”
“Anyone might assume so. You are a charmer, Miss MacArthur. This would be an adequate compromise, since you insist.” He stepped back. “Something happened between us while we were alone. I admit my guilt. Will that suffice?”
If she truly wanted to walk away, it might do for her. If they had to marry, it could work to his advantage, certainly. He felt the urge to take her into his arms again, wanting marriage, wanting as much as she would be willing to give.
Instead, he stepped back, cautious, sensing himself on a precipice.
Elspeth hopped about on one foot, grabbed the fireplace mantel. “I did not plot this to trap you, though you seem to think it. But the kissing was very nice.”
He blinked. No face-slapping, no huffing or hysterics, no attempt to invite more and entrap him. What was she about? “Just…nice?”
“Wonderful,” she said softly. “But you need not marry me for it.”
“Why not insist on marriage now, to gain the, ah, willing compromise you wanted? Or will that come later, once the fish is well and truly caught?”
She frowned. “I would rather be a ruined and disgraced spinster, never marrying,” she said, “than marry as my grandfather wishes for me.”
“Ah, is that it? A fellow you dislike? I imagine your grandfather is only thinking of your future.” Unless the old fellow had sent her here to intentionally snare a supposedly wealthy, titled husband.
“He insists that I marry a Lowlander.” She wrinkled her nose.
