Page 94 of The Highlander's Kilted Bride
“You can forget yourself with me any time you like, sweetheart.”
When she stopped dead in her tracks, he almost ran over her.
“Mr. Kendrick, I really wish you’d stop flirting with me. It’s . . . it’s frustrating.”
“It’s Kade, and I am not flirting with you.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Then what are you doing?”
He studied her, trying not to smile. “Telling you how I feel?”
Charlie looked blank for a second before her eyes popped wide. “Do you actually mean—”
She pointed to herself, and then to him.
“You and me?” Kade said. “Yes.”
“Huh,” she said, looking flummoxed.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well . . . yes, actually.”
Amusement gave way to a tenderness he’d never felt until he met this woman. “Then perhaps you’ll let me show you.”
For a moment, her chestnut brown eyes grew soft as velvet, and one hand fluttered up to rest on his shoulder. Kade was just dipping his head when she suddenly gave him a little shove.
“Youcannotkiss me here,” she hissed. “The servants are right behind us.”
Kade glanced over his shoulder at the footmen, who were busy packing up the picnic baskets. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“I’ll mind, and so will Mamma when she hears about it.” She grabbed his arm again. “Stop acting like a jinglebrains and come along.”
“Jinglebrains, eh? You’ve clearly been talking to my grandfather.”
He let her tow him down the little path. She was right, of course. He shouldn’t be kissing her in front of the servants, or anywhere else on this bloody island. The place was so small you could shout from one end to the other and be heard. Each of the clan graveyards had its own plot of land, but it wouldn’t take much wandering about to bump into someone.
“Would it be impolite for me to ask why you’re dragging me off?”
“Certainly not to have my way with you.”
When Kade burst into laughter—because, really, he couldn’t help it—she scowled at him.
“It’s not that funny,” she grumbled.
“No, of course not.”
She stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry for acting like such a twit. It’s just that you’ve thrown me off my game.”
“Lass, you are the furthest thing from a twit I could ever imagine. And I’m sorry for throwing you off your game.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Touché,” he admitted. “But since I am also off my game, perhaps it’s best to defer this discussion to a time when we’re not at risk of one of our blasted relatives stumbling upon us.”
“What a gruesome thought. My mother would likely toss me into the loch,” she replied as she started them along the path again. “She has her heart set on Richard.”
“Then she’s going to be disappointed.”
