Page 35 of Keeping Kate
“Whoever you are,” he growled, “what happened between us is not forgotten.”
“Perhaps it should be forgotten.”
He resumed walking, shouldering his satchel, tugging her along. “I warn you, Grant is not the sort to forgive and forget. Unlike me.” He said the last so calmly that Kate felt a swirl of stubborn defiance. Planting her feet, she stopped. Fraser turned.
“Katie, my lass,” he said, as he reached inside the satchel and rattled the iron manacles. “Come with me peaceably and quickly, or come along in chains.”
“Just leave me here. I will be off your hands.”
“I will not leave you where Grant’s men can find you. Which do you choose?”
“If I have no choice but your company, then I will bargain my cooperation. I will take the necklace, please.” She opened her hand.
“Something tells me I would get the poor end of the bargain,” he murmured.
“Take the chance.” Kate knew she was taking a risk, too. Alec Fraser seemed to resist any charm she might possess—but for one night she could not forget easily.
Dipping into his sporran, he opened his palm to show her a moonlit pool of silver and crystal. Kate reached out, but he closed his fingers over the necklace.
“I wish this wee bauble was all the chain you would ever need.”
She felt her knees go curiously weak. “The necklace, sir.”
“I have no desire to put irons on you, but I have to trust you will come with me. My guess is that you would leave at first chance.”
Kate sighed. “I would.”
“Then I will keep the bauble in assurance of your good behavior. I have nothing else with which to bargain. And you seem to want it dearly.”
She gazed up at him, heart pounding. He had more bargaining power with her than he knew. Had he bargained a kiss such as he had given her before, her resistance would dissolve.
As if he heard the thought, he leaned close, nearly nose to nose with her. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, and she impulsively craved it, the hunger rising fast in her. Tilting her head, she waited, willing to allow it, revel in it, let it erase the stress and the fear. She half-closed her eyes.
“Later, darling.” He dropped the necklace back into the sporran. “I think we will not gamble like this just yet.”
She blew out a breath to shake off the effect he had on her, the subtle influence that made her blood rush to her cheeks and all through her. “The inn is this way?” She whirled and strode past him, walking ahead.
He caught up with her and took her arm. “Behave, lass. No escaping, no arguing, no slapping or punching your custodial officer.”
“You credit me with evil thoughts.” She lifted her chin, shook her arm loose. He gave it up for a moment.
“Have all the evil thoughts you like. Just keep them to yourself. And give me your word you will not try to escape. The word of one Highlander to another.”
“My word to a Highlander, perhaps. But you are a Lowland officer in a plaidie. There is a difference.”
“I am a Lovat Fraser, born in Inverness, now a captain in Lovat’s independent Scots company. And I am considered a Highlander by all but you, apparently.”
“You live in Edinburgh, you are a red soldier, and you might be English within.”
“I protest,” he said. “My Scottish blood protests.”
“A Highland oath means little to you, I think. You insist on holding a lady’s personal property when you have no right to it, which lacks the natural courtesy of honorable Highland men.”
“I spoke Gaelic until I was given knee-breeches, and I have worn the plaid all my life. And any oath means all to me. Nor do I need to explain any of this to you.”
“Yet you are.”
“That I am.” He returned a steady gaze.
