Page 41 of Dark Seduction

“But ye were friends with the men ye loved,” Malcolm said, appearing skeptical.

“Damn it,” she cried. “You must allow me my secrets!”

“I want to understand ye, lass. And we both ken ’tis only a matter o’ time afore we become lovers.”

She inhaled. “Not fair. Remember, I am going home, hopefully sooner rather than later. You swore it.”

He smiled. “What does yer goin’ back to yer time have to do with our being lovers? Ye want me, an’ dinna deny it. I want ye. There are complications now, but I am hopin’ they will soon be gone. An’ye may not be so eager t’ leave when ye’ve passed an entire night in me bed.” His smile became cocky.

“I told you,” she said, entirely hot, “I can’t give you my body apart from my love.”

His lashes lowered, then slowly he looked up. “Will ye nay try?”

“No!” she snapped, shaking.

“An’ if I tell ye I dinna mind if ye love me?”

Her eyes widened. How could she have even forgotten, for one minute, that he was an arrogant medieval jerk? “I will not be tossed aside like Glenna at your tyrannical whim!”

“Did I say I’d toss ye aside?”

She froze.

His eyes were wide and watchful. “I gave ye my word I’d take ye home when ’tis safe, an’ I will keep it.”

Claire couldn’t even breathe. “But?”

His eyes flickered but he did not look away. He murmured, “But ye need nay go if ye dinna wish to.”

“What does that mean? Is that an invitation? Or are you suggesting I will be so smitten with your performance in bed—or so deeply in love with a man I will never understand—that I will decide to stay in the fifteenth century? There’s no way, Malcolm, no damn way!”

His face was hard, his gaze terribly intent. “Ye like it here,” he said softly. “Ye like me. I dinna mind—I like ye, too. Ye hope t’ fight me, but I willna fight ye, lass.”

Claire shook her head, dismayed. “I only came up here to apologize. It was a terrible idea. Why are you doing this?”

“Because when the time comes, mayhap ye won’t be wantin’ t’ leave Dunroch—or me.”

THEY BOTH DINED in silence. Malcolm ate with ravenous intent, apparently unperturbed by their conversation, while Claire was determined to fuel up and not look him in the eye. She was shaken, but she was glad that conversation had ensued. She had been mistaken to think, even for a moment, that they could have any kind of understanding or a physical affair, much less an emotional connection. His arrogance was mind-blowing. Of course she was going home! She was leaving his time the moment it was safe to do so. And in the interim, there would be no more sex, not even kisses, damn it, nothing! And she was not going to have any more intimate conversations with this man, either. Friendship was as bad an idea as anything else and she didn’t think it was possible anyway. Not when he was so certain he’d screw her brains out and she’d be dying for more. Not when he was so certain she’d want to stay with him in this godforsaken time.

Malcolm finally pushed his plate away, but he refilled her glass and then his. He had been filling her glass all night. She didn’t care—she could handle her wine—and she refused to glance up and thank him. She did not trust herself to look into his eyes—he would probably entrance her the moment she did so.

Suddenly, after twenty minutes of silence, he spoke. “I ken ye be tired an’ it be late. But we ha’ matters to discuss.”

Having no choice, Claire looked up warily. She knew what he wanted, oh, yes. “Last night was a mistake.” And even as she spoke, she felt her cheeks heat and her flesh swell. This was it, then. The moment she had been worrying about—and waiting for. The moment when he’d look at her, mesmerize her and take her to his bed.

But he did not react as she expected. He looked amused. “I dinna wish to speak o’ last night.”

She was confused. “You don’t?”

He folded his arms authoritatively across his chest. “I trust meself less now, after last night, than I ever did,” he said firmly.

Claire realized her brain was working a tad slowly. She was just a bit tipsy after all.

His gray eyes turned silver. “Dinna look at me with so much hunger, lass. I’d pleasure ye,” he added softly, “if we were in the light o’ day. But the moon be bright an’ I want to come inside ye. There’s more I’m wantin’ than yer body.”

Claire was ready to faint with the desire pooling beneath her leine and skirt. Faint, or come. “Damn it,” she said softly. All willpower was gone.

“’Tis easy to play ye, lass.” His eyes gleamed and he smiled. “An’ I’ll play ye again when the time is right.”