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“I apologize, Mackinnon.” She sighed, and he saw the tension ease from those tight shoulders. “I’ve had to discourage overenthusiastic suitors before.”

Real anger, as different from his huff with her as a candle from a forest fire, stabbed his belly. “I’d like to beat the presumptuous bastards to a pulp.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Oh, dear, I’m glad you weren’t there, then. A lot of them ended up becoming my patrons.”

“I hope they kept their hands to themselves once you said no.”

“Mostly,” she said, and raised her hand to stop him snarling. “I’ve learned how to deflect unwelcome advances.”

What about welcome ones? It was absurd to resent her sophistication, when that very sophistication meant there was a chance she might become his mistress. He couldn’t make this offer to a well-bred virgin. The only way he’d get an ingénue, like those girls at Almack’s, into his bed was via marriage.

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

“Porca miseria, stop fishing for compliments.” She sighed again, with exasperation this time. “You know quite well I liked kissing you.”

“But you’re not happy I want ye in my bed?”

“I wouldn’t even say that.” She lifted her hand again, before he could reach for her and take up where he’d left off.

He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, which was something he didn’t make a habit of doing. For once in his life, he felt completely at sea. “Dinna imagine I jump on every woman who falls into my clutches either. I’m discreet with my liaisons—and selective.”

She arched an ironic brow. So far, his wooing wasn’t overwhelming her, devil take her. “I should be flattered?”

“No. Aye. No.” He growled. “I dinna bring women to Achnasheen.”

“It’s beneath the chieftain to play the rake?”

“Aye, something like that.”

“But you must have had affairs.”

He shifted uncomfortably. The women he pursued never put him through an inquisition. About anything, let alone his conquests. They’d been a complacent lot. Until now.

“I’m a red-blooded man. I willnae pretend I come to you a novice, Marina.” He paused. “I’ve a friendly widow in Inverness who’s been kind enough to favor me. She’s getting married again, so our affair has ended, although we parted as friends. Over the years, there have been a couple of lassies in Edinburgh. I’m not a rakehell.”

“Dio, so you’re at a loose end, and I’ll do?”

He launched into an angry denial, before he caught the provocative glint in her gypsy eyes. “Ye wee besom, you’re teasing me.”

“It’s not hard.”

Something else was, but he refrained from pointing that out. “What I’m trying to say is I’m offering you an arrangement I’ve never offered another woman. And you’re not the only one with a care for reputation. If we come together while you’re here, we’ll need to be careful, for the sake of both our good names.”

“You’ve thought about this.” She didn’t sound as if she liked the idea.

“Aye, every minute since I first saw you.” He paused and spoke the stark truth. “I have a powerful hunger for ye, lassie. Give me a chance to feed that appetite while you’re here. A month. Two. Otherwise I’ll go mad, if you mean to stay within reach but won’t let me touch you. Say you’ll agree. Say yes, Marina.”

“Fergus…”

At last she spoke his name. Nor did he miss the longing his passionate words lit in her expression. Anticipation began to pulse in his gut. Had he convinced her to take him as her lover?

Chapter Nine

Marina drew a shaky breath and strove for calmness. It was difficult when Fergus’s kisses—and the lure of more—left her giddy. During those heady minutes in his arms, he’d swept her up into the whirlwind. After an experience like that, it was difficult for a girl to find her feet once she landed back on solid ground.

She made herself meet his gaze. Never had she imagined gray eyes could burn like that. As he stared at her, the heat seared her skin. Tightening her grip on her knees, she told herself that taking this attraction any further was impossible.


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical