humanitarian cause. But as a child she had loved animals and Malcolm really didn't know her anymore. She had not written to him, and Charles had omitted personal information about her in his letters.
"I haven't decided what to do about Paradise. Why don't you help me? You can tell me all about the place, give me your opinions."
A doubtful gleam sparkled in her eyes. "You will continue to profit handsomely if you keep it."
"Because of the cheap slave labor?"
Squinting in fury, she swore, "'Tis an abomination."
He'd seen that same look in her eyes years ago when he'd threatened to dig up her dead badger and make himself a new sporran from the hide. She had railed at him, called him a slimy cur, and threatened to set fire to his bed, with him in it. Now he couldn't resist egging her on. "Slavery has its appeal." When she gasped, he rushed to add, "If we had it here in Scotland, I'd buy the earl of Mar and put him to work shoeing my horses."
All seriousness, she said, "You're mocking me."
"Nay. I'm trying to learn from you."
She exhaled, as if relieved. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Malcolm. But you needn't decide anything about Paradise for now. Mr. Fenwick is a capable overseer."
She was hiding something; he knew it. He just had to find a way to learn all her secrets. "You sound like Lady Miriam."
Humor twinkled in her eyes, drawing attention to her perfectly arched brows and the curling wisps of auburn hair that framed her face. "And you've a bit of the diplomat in you, Malcolm Kerr."
He laughed. "That's because you don't know me."
"Oh, yes, I do." She rose and headed toward the door, her hips swaying seductively.
He reached out and grabbed her arm. When he stepped toward her, his foot tangled in the sheets. Before he could get his balance, he fell, pulling her down with him. Twisting, he managed to land on his back with Alpin sprawled on his chest. Her elbows poked him in the ribs. He winced and grasped her upper arms.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes wide, her heavy braid draped across his neck.
"Me? You're the one on top, but that was always the case with us, wasn't it?"
"Don't do this." She tried to jerk away.
He held her fast. "Admit it, Alpin. You always wanted the upper hand."
"We were children then, playing games and squabbling. You hated me. And I…" Her gazed slipped to his mouth. She swallowed. "And I was…"
"You were what?"
"I was naive about how far our playing would go."
The tension in his limbs suddenly eased; the air between them crackled with anticipation. As naturally as he might reach for warmth on a cold winter night, he pulled her closer, until the sweet rush of her breath fanned his face, until the minute details of her features filled his vision. "Now you know where playing can lead."
"You cannot kiss me."
"I always have."
"No. Yes. I mean, those were different times. We were children. You don't want me now."
He shifted beneath her. The movement gave vivid proof of just how much he'd changed over the years and how much he did want her. "We were friends, nay?"
"Aye," she breathed, wariness turning her eyes the deep hue of pansies. "You were my only friend."
She exaggerated. He could see the deception in every facet of her being. Alpin MacKay harbored deep feelings for him, but fondness was not one of them. Why, then, would she swear otherwise? He had to call her bluff, find out why the woman who'd stolen his chance to sire an heir would work so hard to seduce him today. "I was and still am your best friend."
She opened her mouth but decided against speaking whatever she had on her mind. Her teeth slipped over her bottom lip, and she stared blindly at the Kerr badge that secured his tartan to his shirt.
Determined to bring his challenge to fruition, he slid a hand over her shoulder and cupped her neck. "Let's renew our friendship."
With slight pressure he drew her mouth to his and tilted his head to one side. She squeezed her eyes shut and locked her lips
"I haven't decided what to do about Paradise. Why don't you help me? You can tell me all about the place, give me your opinions."
A doubtful gleam sparkled in her eyes. "You will continue to profit handsomely if you keep it."
"Because of the cheap slave labor?"
Squinting in fury, she swore, "'Tis an abomination."
He'd seen that same look in her eyes years ago when he'd threatened to dig up her dead badger and make himself a new sporran from the hide. She had railed at him, called him a slimy cur, and threatened to set fire to his bed, with him in it. Now he couldn't resist egging her on. "Slavery has its appeal." When she gasped, he rushed to add, "If we had it here in Scotland, I'd buy the earl of Mar and put him to work shoeing my horses."
All seriousness, she said, "You're mocking me."
"Nay. I'm trying to learn from you."
She exhaled, as if relieved. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Malcolm. But you needn't decide anything about Paradise for now. Mr. Fenwick is a capable overseer."
She was hiding something; he knew it. He just had to find a way to learn all her secrets. "You sound like Lady Miriam."
Humor twinkled in her eyes, drawing attention to her perfectly arched brows and the curling wisps of auburn hair that framed her face. "And you've a bit of the diplomat in you, Malcolm Kerr."
He laughed. "That's because you don't know me."
"Oh, yes, I do." She rose and headed toward the door, her hips swaying seductively.
He reached out and grabbed her arm. When he stepped toward her, his foot tangled in the sheets. Before he could get his balance, he fell, pulling her down with him. Twisting, he managed to land on his back with Alpin sprawled on his chest. Her elbows poked him in the ribs. He winced and grasped her upper arms.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes wide, her heavy braid draped across his neck.
"Me? You're the one on top, but that was always the case with us, wasn't it?"
"Don't do this." She tried to jerk away.
He held her fast. "Admit it, Alpin. You always wanted the upper hand."
"We were children then, playing games and squabbling. You hated me. And I…" Her gazed slipped to his mouth. She swallowed. "And I was…"
"You were what?"
"I was naive about how far our playing would go."
The tension in his limbs suddenly eased; the air between them crackled with anticipation. As naturally as he might reach for warmth on a cold winter night, he pulled her closer, until the sweet rush of her breath fanned his face, until the minute details of her features filled his vision. "Now you know where playing can lead."
"You cannot kiss me."
"I always have."
"No. Yes. I mean, those were different times. We were children. You don't want me now."
He shifted beneath her. The movement gave vivid proof of just how much he'd changed over the years and how much he did want her. "We were friends, nay?"
"Aye," she breathed, wariness turning her eyes the deep hue of pansies. "You were my only friend."
She exaggerated. He could see the deception in every facet of her being. Alpin MacKay harbored deep feelings for him, but fondness was not one of them. Why, then, would she swear otherwise? He had to call her bluff, find out why the woman who'd stolen his chance to sire an heir would work so hard to seduce him today. "I was and still am your best friend."
She opened her mouth but decided against speaking whatever she had on her mind. Her teeth slipped over her bottom lip, and she stared blindly at the Kerr badge that secured his tartan to his shirt.
Determined to bring his challenge to fruition, he slid a hand over her shoulder and cupped her neck. "Let's renew our friendship."
With slight pressure he drew her mouth to his and tilted his head to one side. She squeezed her eyes shut and locked her lips
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