Page 32 of Stealing Sophie
She shook her head. “I am fine. I needed a little...forti-fortifying, I think.” Her words were gently slurred.
He needed fortifying himself. The whisky warmed his blood and blurred the edges of his thought, but it would not do to lose control. The heat stirring inside him craved release, and he needed to belay it. Gazing at her, watching her breasts rise inside the shell of that fetching gown, he sensed himself ripen further. He looked away.
“We have both had enough.” He capped the decanter. “You were sick earlier.”
“That was before I had any whisky. I have a finicky stomach.”
“Then we do not want to agitate it. How are you feeling now?”
“Fine. I think I like Mary Murray’s whisky.”
“Wait until morning before you decide.” He cocked a brow.
She looked away. “How is it that you stay here at Glendoon?”
“I am no poacher. I rent the property from your brother.”
“You are a tenant? I know there have always been a few tenants on Glendoon lands under my father, and now my brother as chief, but none in the castle, I thought.”
“I am a more recent tenant, and I oversee the others. I act as small laird under Duncrieff, renting the castle and lands.”
“Why rent a ruin?”
She did love her questions. “It is better than living in an outlaw’s cave. Your brother asked that I keep an eye on the tenants’ needs, but asks nothing else in return.”
“He asked something of you recently.” She sent him a quick, keen look.
“He did.” Kneeling, he roused the peat embers with the poker. The girl stepped closer to the fire, her skirts brushing his shoulder.
“My gown is ruined.” She sounded dismayed, lifting the soggy hems to peer at her feet. “And my shoes as well. I wish I had worn sturdier shoes for all that hillwalking.”
He suppressed a smile. “If you had known about the hillwalking, you might have stayed at Kinnoull House, and I would have had to climb up to your window.”
She gasped. “Would you have done that?”
“I might have. But my comrades and I saw you ride out with your escort after you had...dinner with Campbell, was it?”
She lifted her chin. “I should have accepted Sir Henry’s invitation to stay the night at Kinnoull House. It is a grand place, solid and secure. I would have been safe there. And I would have locked the window latch.”
“An excellent house, that. But you were not safe with Campbell, believe me.”
“Oh, and I suppose I am safe with you,” she snapped.
“You are.” He worked at the embers, which sparked and gave off more heat. Too much poking and he would disintegrate the bricks and lose the heat that had built up. “You may want to borrow some clean garments if yours are soaked.”
“I would prefer to have my things if I am to stay here.”
“I intend to keep you safe here at Glendoon for a while, according to your brother’s wishes. The wooden chest over there has women’s things in it, though they may be too large for you.” He glanced at her slender form.
“I will not wear something that may have been used by another woman you have brought here.”
He sent her a stern glare. “They belonged to my mother.”
She blinked. “Oh! Where is she?”
“She died several years ago. You may use her things. No one else does,” he added.
“Thank you.” She was silent for a moment. “But I need my things. How can I get them? My trunk was carted to Duncrieff, as I was expected there tonight.”
