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yer cock make that decision.”
“When I’m in need of yer counsel, I shall ask fer it,” Gavin declared hotly. Bloody hell. Allow a man the chance to freely speak his mind and he’ll seize every opportunity to tell you precisely what you don’t want to hear.
At last alone, Gavin advanced upon her. Her eyes widened with something he could not define. Fear? Nay. ’Twas more like resolve. His admiration grew yet again.
“Ye ask much of me, Lady Fiona.”
“But I am prepared to give much in exchange.” She lowered her lashes coyly. “Whatever you require, whatever you want.”
Gavin nearly stopped breathing. Anticipation surged hard inside him. The idea of her giving herself to him so openly ignited his baser desires, sending sensual images through his mind. Hell, he could almost feel the fiery stroke of her tongue against his own, see her lying naked on his bed, her golden, unbound hair flowing around her, framing her creamy flesh.
But there was another feeling gnawing at him, this one not nearly as pleasant. ’Twas guilt. How could he allow the widow of a man he once called a friend to debase herself in such a manner? Even worse, how could he convince several key Scottish nobles to shift their loyalty and support the Bruce’s cause if he had Lady Fiona and Spencer, the rightful heir to an English barony, living within his castle walls?
Why, the Bruce himself might question Gavin’s loyalties!
For appearance sake, he had to ensure there was a plausible reason, with no political implications, for the lovely widow to be under his protection. Surely, there was no true-blooded Scotsman alive who didn’t understand the allure of the fairer sex.
Some of the more conservative lairds might question his self-control, but not his politics. Then again, once they met the fair Lady Fiona, there was no one who would gainsay his choice.
“Have you made a decision, my lord?”
He groped for a final grain of sense, an answer that was not purely rooted in blind lust, and was pleased he could justify this decision with at least some rational thoughts.
“Aye. I shall do as ye ask.” Gavin circled slowly around her, stopping at her back. He could see the nape of her neck through the silky gauze of her veil—’twas slender, delicate, and alluring. He leaned close, his lips almost touching the creamy flesh, and whispered, “In exchange fer my help, I’ll take a half yield of yer grain crops fer three years.”
She shivered. “Agreed.”
He blew softly beneath the fabric, causing the wisps of golden hair to flutter. Her entire body appeared to jump. “The hunting rights in yer northernmost woods.”
“Fine.”
Smiling at her reaction, he repositioned himself so they were toe to toe. “Twenty bolts of yer finest wool.”
She averted her gaze. “Yes.”
He curved his hand beneath her chin and ran his thumb slowly across her lips. She sighed and looked up into his face. Her gaze fixed on his mouth, lingering until Gavin’s loins tightened. She looked like a girl, innocent, vulnerable, but there was a poise and grace about her that was all woman. “And finally, my good lady, I’ll take ye.”
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but she held his gaze and nodded.
“So, we have struck our bargain, Lady Fiona?”
“We have, my lord.”
Her voice was a startled whisper and for a moment she looked flummoxed. The expression bothered him, niggling at his conscience, forcing him to ask a question he did not want to broach.
“Are ye certain? Ye agree to all the terms?”
“Yes.” The word was barely audible, but she squared her shoulders and repeated it, this time forcefully. “Yes.”
A feeling of bliss raced through Gavin’s veins. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed to her. She dipped her knee and curtsied with queenly dignity. When she rose, she met his gaze full on, her eyes wide with a myriad of unsettled thoughts.
His heart lurched. She had agreed to the terms with conviction, but her lingering
“When I’m in need of yer counsel, I shall ask fer it,” Gavin declared hotly. Bloody hell. Allow a man the chance to freely speak his mind and he’ll seize every opportunity to tell you precisely what you don’t want to hear.
At last alone, Gavin advanced upon her. Her eyes widened with something he could not define. Fear? Nay. ’Twas more like resolve. His admiration grew yet again.
“Ye ask much of me, Lady Fiona.”
“But I am prepared to give much in exchange.” She lowered her lashes coyly. “Whatever you require, whatever you want.”
Gavin nearly stopped breathing. Anticipation surged hard inside him. The idea of her giving herself to him so openly ignited his baser desires, sending sensual images through his mind. Hell, he could almost feel the fiery stroke of her tongue against his own, see her lying naked on his bed, her golden, unbound hair flowing around her, framing her creamy flesh.
But there was another feeling gnawing at him, this one not nearly as pleasant. ’Twas guilt. How could he allow the widow of a man he once called a friend to debase herself in such a manner? Even worse, how could he convince several key Scottish nobles to shift their loyalty and support the Bruce’s cause if he had Lady Fiona and Spencer, the rightful heir to an English barony, living within his castle walls?
Why, the Bruce himself might question Gavin’s loyalties!
For appearance sake, he had to ensure there was a plausible reason, with no political implications, for the lovely widow to be under his protection. Surely, there was no true-blooded Scotsman alive who didn’t understand the allure of the fairer sex.
Some of the more conservative lairds might question his self-control, but not his politics. Then again, once they met the fair Lady Fiona, there was no one who would gainsay his choice.
“Have you made a decision, my lord?”
He groped for a final grain of sense, an answer that was not purely rooted in blind lust, and was pleased he could justify this decision with at least some rational thoughts.
“Aye. I shall do as ye ask.” Gavin circled slowly around her, stopping at her back. He could see the nape of her neck through the silky gauze of her veil—’twas slender, delicate, and alluring. He leaned close, his lips almost touching the creamy flesh, and whispered, “In exchange fer my help, I’ll take a half yield of yer grain crops fer three years.”
She shivered. “Agreed.”
He blew softly beneath the fabric, causing the wisps of golden hair to flutter. Her entire body appeared to jump. “The hunting rights in yer northernmost woods.”
“Fine.”
Smiling at her reaction, he repositioned himself so they were toe to toe. “Twenty bolts of yer finest wool.”
She averted her gaze. “Yes.”
He curved his hand beneath her chin and ran his thumb slowly across her lips. She sighed and looked up into his face. Her gaze fixed on his mouth, lingering until Gavin’s loins tightened. She looked like a girl, innocent, vulnerable, but there was a poise and grace about her that was all woman. “And finally, my good lady, I’ll take ye.”
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but she held his gaze and nodded.
“So, we have struck our bargain, Lady Fiona?”
“We have, my lord.”
Her voice was a startled whisper and for a moment she looked flummoxed. The expression bothered him, niggling at his conscience, forcing him to ask a question he did not want to broach.
“Are ye certain? Ye agree to all the terms?”
“Yes.” The word was barely audible, but she squared her shoulders and repeated it, this time forcefully. “Yes.”
A feeling of bliss raced through Gavin’s veins. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed to her. She dipped her knee and curtsied with queenly dignity. When she rose, she met his gaze full on, her eyes wide with a myriad of unsettled thoughts.
His heart lurched. She had agreed to the terms with conviction, but her lingering
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