Page 97 of Wicked Rivals
“Thank you,” he said, holding the book reverently.
“I’m afraid I am still at a loss as to your name. Which one of Rosalind’s brothers are you?” Joanna came another step closer, almost within arm’s reach.
“How do you know about us?” he asked, his eyes searching the room for something he could use to bind her hands together. The only thing he saw was the dark-blue ribbon in her hair and the lovely sash around her waist. But how to go about it…
“Oh, she’s told me all about the three of you. Let me guess…” She tapped her chin, a playful smile upon her lips. “Are you Aiden, Brodie or Brock? I shall guess…Aiden.”
“Like hell. Do I look like some young pup?”
“Brock then,” Joanna said. “You look like a Brock. It’s a very old name, Brock. I like learning about names and their meanings. Did you know Brock means badger?”
For an instant he was distracted by the way his name sounded on her sweet lips. It had been a long time since a woman had piqued his interest. He’d been busy of late dealing with his ailing father and the mountain of debts facing Castle Kincade. There was little time to tup a lass when he was plowing fields and working with stonemasons to repair parts of his home.
Bloody hell, what had he gotten himself into? There was no way he could avoid what he had to do now. If she alerted the rest of the house that Rosalind’s brothers were here, it would risk everything. He had to neutralize the sweet lass in order to protect his sister.
“Badger?” he asked. “I didn’t know that.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. A smart woman.
Inspiration struck when he saw her bite her lower lip and stare up at him through her dark lashes. He set the book back down on a nearby table, and then with a devil-may-care grin he closed the distance between them, catching her by the waist.
“It is a custom from my village to offer a kiss to those whose families are about to be joined.” It was a complete lie, but he needed an excuse to distract her…and he wanted a reason to justify kissing her.
“Really? I’ve read about parts of Scotland, but I’ve never—”
“Shush, lass, and let me keep with tradition,” he whispered, then bent his head and slanted his mouth over hers.
Her taste exploded upon his tongue, torturing him with her sweetness. She squeaked in surprise as he cupped her arse with one hand and fisted his other hand in the coils of her silken tresses.
She pushed herself away from him, a mix of shock and excitement in her eyes. “This is traditional where you’re from?”
“Old as the bones in the hills.”
She was about to free herself from him entirely, but something changed in that moment as she looked into his eyes. “And I suppose it would be rude of me to break with tradition.”
Brock smirked. “Incredibly rude. You’d be insulting my entire clan.”
“Well, Mother did raise me to respect other cultures.” And with that she returned the kiss and tightened the embrace further.
She was a divine little creature, with curves perfect for his hands. The way she clung to him as they kissed erased almost everything around them. But he refused to let himself forget the task at hand. With deft fingers, he unfastened the sash at her waist, then loosened the pins from her hair and pulled the ribbon free. Brock couldn’t resist indulging himself for a few more seconds before he pushed himself away and spun her around. She was too startled to resist at first.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, breathless out of a mixture of anger, fear and more than a little arousal. He caught her wrists and tied them with the sash. “This can’t be traditional.”
“I’m sorry about this, lass, but I can’t have you calling for Lennox.”
“Call for—” He lifted the slender ribbon and used it to gag her, just enough to muffle any sounds. Then he settled her back in the chair.
“Move from here in the next few minutes and I fear you will regret it,” he warned.
Her blue eyes flashed with fire, but he fled the room before her body hampered his judgment further. He had to find his sister and escape. When he ducked out of the library, he caught sight of Brodie carrying someone over his shoulder at the far end of the hall.
Rosalind. Thank the heavens, they’d found her.
He rushed after his younger brother, trying to forget how hurt Joanna had looked when he gagged her and left her behind. There was something about that woman…a beautiful little bluestocking who kissed like a woman from a young man’s dream but felt too real, too perfect in his arms.
You will be mine, sweet Joanna. It was a vow he carved into his soul. Once he was sure Rosalind was safe, he would come back and find a way to win Joanna’s heart.
He’d focus on just how difficult that would be another time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
