even brighter than usual. "Come now." He watched her carefully, feeling somewhat insulted by her expression of horror. " Tis na so bad as all that. 'Tis only a bath. Surely ye have assisted men afore."
She didn't argue or agree. Neither did she speak, and Roderic found himself wondering how quickly Nevin could impale him upon his sword should he reach out to shake her from her trance.
"Lass?" he questioned gently. "Are ye well?"
"Aye," she said. "Ye are the one who is ill."
Roderic chuckled. "Nay, lass. I have never felt better. Na that that means I can escape yonder tower," he hurried to add. "Indeed, ye have assured me I canna, which surely gives ye an excellent chance of winning a fine steed."
She remained mute, staring at him.
"Come now, lass, I would offer ye more, but ye did na give me a chance to take much with me when I left Glen Creag."
Flame said nothing, and in that moment Roderic praised himself for baiting the hook well. Only after seeing Dun Ard did he realize the poverty of the Mac-Gowans. And only now could he understand the value she would place on a stallion of Mor's quality.
"Come, Flanna," he urged again. "The steed will be yers free and clear with me vow na ta attempt ta retrieve him."
He could almost see her internal struggle. He was a handsome, tempting man, and she probably felt she couldn't trust herself in such a situation.
"What say ye, lass?" he whispered. "I swear na ta do anything ta compromise yer innocence unless..." He smiled. "Unless ye canna control yerself."
She blinked. Bright color had finally returned to her cheeks, making her look young and angelic and awed.
"Dunna be scairt, lass," he crooned.
"And ye would be ... naked?" She leaned forward to whisper the words to him.
Good God, she was a bonny thing. "Aye, lass, I would," he breathed. "What say ye?"
"What can I do but agree?" she murmured huskily. "For ye are such an..." She leaned closer still and placed a palm to his bare chest Heat radiated from her touch and he nearly closed his eyes to better appreciate the exhilarating sensations. But suddenly she shoved him backward with a mighty heave. Droplets splashed in every direction as his buttocks hit the water, and when he had swept his wet hair from his eyes, she was standing dry and regal upon the shore. "An arrogant bastard who has already forfeited his steed." She pivoted away but turned back in a moment. "Oh," she added, "ye can thank me later for helping ye bathe."
Chapter 5
They would all pay. But she would suffer the most. The Flame of the MacGowans — the whore of the MacGowans! Aye, she would pay the dearest price. For she had cost him the most. But he must not let anyone suspect his intent. He must keep his bloodlust at bay, for he had planned too long and too carefully to be foolish now. He would watch and wait, and soon all would be his.
When Roderic returned to the tower, he saw that someone had brought in a straw-filled pallet, a small, rough-hewn table, and a rickety chair. They were the only pieces of furniture that now graced his lofty prison.
Lying on his back, he stared up at the lead sheeting of the ceiling and determined that Flanna MacGowan was not a normal woman. Normal women did not become leaders of unruly Highland tribes. They did not ride out in the middle of the night to kidnap a member of an allied clan. And they did not push him in the water. He shifted uncomfortably, but his sodden plaid was still firmly belted to his waist, reminding him of the humiliation of returning to his tower room dripping wet. Nevin had laughed out loud and related the entire episode to Bullock as they barred the door of the tower room. And though Flanna had controlled her humor, he could see the emerald spark of laughter in her eyes.
No, she was not a normal woman. She was haughty and aloof—and so damned alluring he ached for... No!
He was not attracted to her even though she had skin like fine satin and... God's wrath, he had best leave
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