Page 5 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
“And what do ye mean by that?” she asked warily.
His gaze, moving over her face, had her already stilled breath frozen in her chest.
“I think ye are Laird Dolberry’s daughter.”
Shock jolted through her at his blatant—andpreposterous—declaration. Recoiling from him as if he had lobbied a raw fish on her face, her expression soured.
“Oh, ye’re one of those many fortune hunters. Move along. I am nae her.”
“Isnae yer name Amelie?” he asked.
“What interest is that of yers? And what is yer name?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Damien Glogow,” he said.
“Well, Damien, ye can move along now,” Amelie dismissed him while reaching for a goblet.
He leaned forward, his arresting eyes pinning her where she sat.
“I take it yer name is Amelie,” he said. “Will ye nae even consider it? If ye had the chance of bein’ a Laird’s daughter, wouldnae ye take it?”
Annoyed, Amelie stood and slammed the goblet on the bar with a little more force than warranted.
“I would, if I dinnae think about crooks like ye who prey on gullible girls to get what they want. I’m nae one, so I tell ye again, move along.”
Surprisingly, his look only grew sly, “I’m a fair man, so let me make a deal with ye. I’m going to ask ye three questions about ye, and if I’m wrong to any of them, I’ll leave ye be, but if I’m right, I want ye to truly consider that ye could be the missin’ lass. Agreed?”
Assured that he knew nothing about her life, Amelie nodded, just to get him to leave, “Ye have only three.”
“Ye daenae have a last name, do ye?” he asked.
Feeling hurt over a subject that had pained her for years, Amelie replied. “Nay, I daenae. I cannae recall any orphans havin’ a last name.” Belatedly, Amelie realized that she might have given Damien more than he needed to know, but she kept her expression neutral. “What is yer second?”
“Did ye have a yellow, green and red tartan kilt?” Damien asked.
A memory of an old garment, one that she had worn till it frayed out to rags, flashed behind her eyes, “I did, but it’s gone now.”
His chin lifted in triumph. “And do ye have a gold pendant with yer name on it?”
Alarmed that he knew something no one else did, Amelie’s lips dropped in shock.
“H-How did ye—” she broke off abruptly and grabbed a cloth just to feel something familiar, “—where did ye ken that from? Who told ye?”
“Nay one,” Damien said. “Well, nae directly. I picked up tidbits about the McDulah lass for months since I heard about it. I spent time in the Dolberry village and surroundin’ villages askin’ about the lass.”
“So, what led ye to me?” Discomfited, Amelie asked.
His knuckles fisted under her chin and he lifted her head up. His touch was searing to her senses and made her heart beat out of rhythm for the breathless moments his icy-blue eyes held hers.
“Yer eyes, lassie, the tales in the villages is that the McDulah’s girl eyes were nae green but green and gold. Yer the only lass with these colors.”
Pulling away, Amelie barely stopped herself from biting her lip at the tingling sensation his touch left on her skin. She paused to look around the mostly empty room just to give her some time to breathe, and piece together what Damien was saying.
“Ye ken nothin’ about me.”
“I would like to,” Damien said. “And if ye give me the chance, ye can ken me too.”
“And why would I do that?” she asked. “So ye can feed me more lies?”
