Page 6 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
“Are ye ready to tell me why ye were traveling alone? The highlands are nae place for a lady, even one that claims to be capable of looking after herself.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t think that is any of your business,” she said. His cool demeanor was having a strange effect on her that she didn’t know how to handle. “And I can look after meself,” she mocked his Scottish accent while making a face.
“Well, me lady,” his voice dropped to a dangerous tone as he took a step forward and stared at her through the bars, “until it does become me business, ye will be enjoying a stay here in me dungeons.”
Joan swallowed hard as he glared at her. She wondered if her mother had been right, and her smart mouth had finally proven to be her downfall.
4
“You can’t keep me locked up in here forever!” she yelled at his back as he turned to leave. His sudden dismissal of her was leaving her flustered and angry. She wanted to get out of the dungeon as soon as she could.
Halting his departure, the laird froze and turned to her, taking a few steps forward with his calf muscles bulging as he walked. He stopped a few inches away from the bars with a dangerous glint in his eyes. His knee-length kilt left her wondering what lay beneath the layers of fabric.
Joan felt her mouth going dry as she examined the hungry look in his eye. The brilliant green reminded her of a cat on the hunt or the drawings of majestic tigers her father had shown her from India. He was fiercely attractive with an ominous air of authority. Danger oozed from every inch of his manly physique.
“I didnae think ye are in any position to demand what happens to ye.” He looked at the bars with a satisfied sneer. “I shall be the one who decides if ye stay in here forever or nae.”
“Just send word to Laird MacKinnon!” She felt her anger bubbling up to the surface once again as he stared at her with an arrogant look in his eyes. “He and his wife, Avery, will be here within an hour or so if you just let them know I am here.”
“I dinnae ken a Laird Mackinnon or his wife…” He glared at her.
She wondered if he believed her or if he thought that she was making the whole story up — to what end, she did not know. It was clear that the man had trouble trusting anyone, especially a young woman that had wandered onto his lands.
“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” she said sarcastically. “You don’t seem like the social type that would mingle with others. I’d love to see you reeling at a ball.” Her eyes challenged him as she spoke, igniting a fire in his eye that hadn’t been there before.
“You haven’t even told me your name; I demand you tell me at once!” She hesitated for a second. “I should at least know the name of the man holding me captive,” she explained.
“Ye are very liberal with yer demands, lass,” he said in a low voice.
Approaching the bars, he towered above her like a mighty mountain, gazing into her eyes with a menacing look as he gripped the bars above her head. “Ye will nae tell me what to do, lass; I am laird of this castle.”
Standing her ground, Joan allowed herself to examine his masculine face and the strong lines of his jaw. Her insides fluttered like a swarm of butterflies, but she chalked it up to her thirst and the fact that she hadn’t eaten in hours, and she pushed the thoughts of his muscular arms to the back of her mind. Fatigue was beginning to set in and cloud her judgment, it seemed.
“Well,” she whispered with a glance at his lips before looking up once again, “you won’t be telling me what to do either.” She wondered what had happened to his one eye as she looked at the flecks of brown in the hauntingly green one that wasn’t covered with a leather patch, but she quickly shook off the thoughts when he brought his face closer to hers.
His hand was suddenly on her wrist in a flash, holding her steady with a firm yet surprisingly gentle touch that she couldn’t resist. Her body felt frozen with something other than fear as she waited to see what he would do next. His woody scent held her captive to his whims as her feet moved of their own accord, responding to his guidance as she drew closer to the bars.
Pulling her forward slightly until her body was once again pressed against the bars, he whispered in her ear, sending a ripple of bumps over her skin, “I wouldnae say anymore if I were ye.”
Her breathing quickened as she felt the sculpted muscles of his body that were pressing into hers through the hard steel. Her legs suddenly seemed weak at the close proximity of his body to hers.
“Or what?” she asked in a soft voice, completely distracted by the feel of his thumb running over the tender flesh of her wrist. “What would you do to me, my laird?” she asked as she looked into his face, her chest rising and falling with every quickening breath.
* * *
“I…” Jasper felt his breath catching in his throat as he looked at her beautiful features. He couldn’t help but wonder how her lips would taste against his or how the curve of her hips would feel in his hands. The intoxicating scent of her rose perfume filled his senses, driving his face closer to her as if he were under some kind of spell.
Every ounce of his being wanted to kiss the woman, even if it was just to shut her up. Yet he would never allow himself to trust another person, let alone an English woman who could very well be a spy sent by one of the rival clans.
He wouldn’t allow himself to bed a woman that would more than likely hold a knife to his throat while he slept. They were still face to face — hers turned upwards to look at him in the eye, and when she spoke, he could feel the heat of her breath on his skin.
“Yes? my laird? What will you do?” she asked him again in a husky tone that made his blood run hot with desire as he focused on her lips. There was something utterly beguiling about the blonde-haired temptress.
Jasper suddenly realized that he was dangerously close to kissing her when he mustered all of his strength and willpower to let go of her wrist and take a step back. Shutting his eyes, he took a minute to compose himself and rid his mind of the not-so-unwelcome thoughts of her body. He couldn’t allow himself to be fooled by a prisoner in his dungeons.
“Or else, there will be nae dinner for ye today.” He managed to get the erratic beating of his heart under control. “I will return in an hour with a tray of food; perhaps by then ye will be hungry enough to tell me who sent ye.” He examined the shock in her eyes before turning around and leaving her to her own thoughts. He knew deep down that his sudden departure was more to protect himself than it was to protect her.
“I keep telling you that nobody has sent me!” she yelled after him. “I ended up here by accident. You are keeping an innocent woman captive, my laird!” Her angry pleas fell on deaf ears as he made his way down the hall. “You haven’t even asked me my name!” her voice trailed off as he left the passage and took a corner.
