you should do with your sapphires.”
He chuckled sardonically. “No, I think I can guess.” Arching a black brow, he gave her an appraising look. “So why haven’t you remarried?”
“There aren’t a lot of likely men in Druradeen. It’s a small place.”
“What? You don’t know any eligible bachelors in the kidnapping business?”
Elgiva huffed in exasperation. “Plus I have no dowry to offer.” She shot him a scathing look. “Yet.”
“Dream on, doll.” He studied her, looking intrigued. “Why do you need a dowry?”
“Marriages are built on practical concerns. Land, money, children. I have naught to offer.”
His gaze trailed down her sweater and skirt. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. In that green evening gown you could have made any man forget about dirt, dough, and dynasties.” His voice became coy. “In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind being entertained. Have you got the green dress here? Wear that when you do your knitting.”
“It’s a joy to watch such an overindulged beast learn the merits of patience.”
“Patience? You mean I’ll get what I want, eventually?”
Elgiva winced inwardly. Why was her mouth making offers that her honor couldn’t keep? “You can’t
always
get what you want, Douglas. Perhaps this time you’ll get what you
need
, instead.”
He looked amused. “Did you ever write a song for the Rolling Stones?”
“Hmmmph. A rock and roll group. Mick Jagger. I know them. Their albums are sold in the stores in Edinburgh.”
“You didn’t pull off a kidnapping in the middle ofManhattan without knowing the city pretty well. How much time have you spent in the United States?”
“You won’t get incriminating information out of me. But that was a nice try.”
He slid a hand down his sweaty stomach, stroking the streak of silver hair amidst the black as he gazed thoughtfully at her. His hand moved with the unselfconscious sensuality of a man who was very comfortable with his body. Elgiva tracked the up-and-down action without blinking.
“I’ll get a lot out of you before I’m done,” he murmured, with a thin, confident smile.
She exhaled raggedly and clucked her tongue. “If you can catch me, you can have me.”
“I’ll consider that a promise.”
“Hoots, man! You’d wish that you’d been tossed into a pit with a dozen lions, instead.”
“You’re always so creative with your threats. What do you do when you’re not kidnapping people? I know! You’re a tax collector.”
She waved toward the other room, with its kitchen. “Perhaps I’m a chef.” Elgiva pointed to the pile of knitting she kept in a woven basket. “Perhaps I make sweaters for a living.” She gestured at the books. “I could be a teacher. Or a writer.”
“No. Hmmm, let me guess.” He hooked his thumb into his trousers and let his fingers tap lightly on the dark woolen material not far above the bulge in the crotch. Elgiva’s stomach quivered. Was his enticement calculated, or was it enticement at all? Perhaps she only imagined it. Overwrought fantasies were the price one paid for years of emptiness.
“You rob banks,” he said, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Because God knows there’s not any other way to make a lot of money around Druradeen. You needed quite a bit to fund your little kidnapping project. Of course, the other fanatics in your gang contributed some dough too.”
“My
gang
? Next you’ll be calling me ‘Ma MacBarker.’I keep telling you that there’s no gang, Douglas. I sold some jewelry of my mother’s to pay my kidnapping expenses.”
“Another thing. Could you please pronounce my name correctly? It’s
Dug-less
.”
“Not in the homeland. You’re a
Dooglas
here.” She took a deep breath and plunged forward, hoping that his mood would make him receptive, finally. “You’re Dooglas Kincaid, the last of the Kincaids of Talrigh, one of the mightiest clans of the highlands.”
He gazed at her silently, looking bewildered and a little
He chuckled sardonically. “No, I think I can guess.” Arching a black brow, he gave her an appraising look. “So why haven’t you remarried?”
“There aren’t a lot of likely men in Druradeen. It’s a small place.”
“What? You don’t know any eligible bachelors in the kidnapping business?”
Elgiva huffed in exasperation. “Plus I have no dowry to offer.” She shot him a scathing look. “Yet.”
“Dream on, doll.” He studied her, looking intrigued. “Why do you need a dowry?”
“Marriages are built on practical concerns. Land, money, children. I have naught to offer.”
His gaze trailed down her sweater and skirt. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. In that green evening gown you could have made any man forget about dirt, dough, and dynasties.” His voice became coy. “In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind being entertained. Have you got the green dress here? Wear that when you do your knitting.”
“It’s a joy to watch such an overindulged beast learn the merits of patience.”
“Patience? You mean I’ll get what I want, eventually?”
Elgiva winced inwardly. Why was her mouth making offers that her honor couldn’t keep? “You can’t
always
get what you want, Douglas. Perhaps this time you’ll get what you
need
, instead.”
He looked amused. “Did you ever write a song for the Rolling Stones?”
“Hmmmph. A rock and roll group. Mick Jagger. I know them. Their albums are sold in the stores in Edinburgh.”
“You didn’t pull off a kidnapping in the middle ofManhattan without knowing the city pretty well. How much time have you spent in the United States?”
“You won’t get incriminating information out of me. But that was a nice try.”
He slid a hand down his sweaty stomach, stroking the streak of silver hair amidst the black as he gazed thoughtfully at her. His hand moved with the unselfconscious sensuality of a man who was very comfortable with his body. Elgiva tracked the up-and-down action without blinking.
“I’ll get a lot out of you before I’m done,” he murmured, with a thin, confident smile.
She exhaled raggedly and clucked her tongue. “If you can catch me, you can have me.”
“I’ll consider that a promise.”
“Hoots, man! You’d wish that you’d been tossed into a pit with a dozen lions, instead.”
“You’re always so creative with your threats. What do you do when you’re not kidnapping people? I know! You’re a tax collector.”
She waved toward the other room, with its kitchen. “Perhaps I’m a chef.” Elgiva pointed to the pile of knitting she kept in a woven basket. “Perhaps I make sweaters for a living.” She gestured at the books. “I could be a teacher. Or a writer.”
“No. Hmmm, let me guess.” He hooked his thumb into his trousers and let his fingers tap lightly on the dark woolen material not far above the bulge in the crotch. Elgiva’s stomach quivered. Was his enticement calculated, or was it enticement at all? Perhaps she only imagined it. Overwrought fantasies were the price one paid for years of emptiness.
“You rob banks,” he said, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Because God knows there’s not any other way to make a lot of money around Druradeen. You needed quite a bit to fund your little kidnapping project. Of course, the other fanatics in your gang contributed some dough too.”
“My
gang
? Next you’ll be calling me ‘Ma MacBarker.’I keep telling you that there’s no gang, Douglas. I sold some jewelry of my mother’s to pay my kidnapping expenses.”
“Another thing. Could you please pronounce my name correctly? It’s
Dug-less
.”
“Not in the homeland. You’re a
Dooglas
here.” She took a deep breath and plunged forward, hoping that his mood would make him receptive, finally. “You’re Dooglas Kincaid, the last of the Kincaids of Talrigh, one of the mightiest clans of the highlands.”
He gazed at her silently, looking bewildered and a little
Similar Books
