Page 34 of A Hot Scot for Christmas
“Your bandage, what happened to it?”
Earlier today, after his bath, he’d doused himself with oil of arnica, a quick toss of the stuff over his shoulder, and he’d wrapped the bandage, alone.
“I’m used to nursing my own wounds.”
Her face tipped sweetly, softly to his. “You have me.”
His lips parted. No gentler hook had ever sunk into his heart.
They circled and circled. Skirts spinning, kilt whirling. Light and dark, innocent and dangerous. This was their true attire. He wanted Sabrina but he’d not hurt a hair on her head—or one chamber of her heart.
The longing in her eyes nearly killed him. She’d not be satisfied with half measures. They parted again. The next figure called, he went to her, armored with humor this time.
“Shall I add Shaw to my list of dispatched suitors?” he asked.
This figure was a dip and turn. She came round to him. “Shaw was a half-hearted suitor, if that.”
“Why?”
“A few reasons. Captain Crawford, for one and an unfortunate chance meeting with the lieutenant would the other.”
“Explain,” he demanded.
They parted for the dance. The next figure required a slower rotation. A mild frown had taken over her features.
“I saw the lieutenant leaving the brothel behind The Spider and Fly one morning. I was making deliveries, and…”
They parted, swirled, went to their line, their faces impatient. The force drawing them together was just as powerful as the force pulling them apart. The maddening question was, which force would win?
Sabrina returned to him, determined to finish her explanation.
“Mrs. Swinford, her husband is Mr. Swinford, proprietor of The Spider and Fly, jested about the lieutenant practically living there.”
“That took the shine off the handsome young lieutenant.”
She looked into his eyes, mischievous. “Because other men shine much brighter than him.” Her glow became tender and her voice soft. “Former sergeants, I think.”
“Sabrina…” His warning faded.
They lingered, while other dancers pulled apart. Late to the next move, they parted.
Candles poured heat and light down on their heads. Desire mounted, leaving him testy.
He wanted to bury himself inside her. To pleasure Sabrina until she couldn’t say another man’s name.
They spun again. He stared at her, his possessiveness, aggravating. When had he ever expended so muchwanton one woman?
Another figure was called. Another spin, and “Don’t worry, Mr. MacLeod. You can get on with your list. Put Shaw’s name on it if you like.”
He pulled back, stiff. Irritated.
They parted and the next two figures kept the lines of dancers apart, ample time for him to adjust. The reel was coming to an end. Sabrina was a little fractured, facing him again. Her eyes distant, her manner cool and polite.
“I can make your task an easy one,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“I’ll take you to my suitors and you can do your best, scaring them off. Then, you’ll be free to hie off to wherever you’d like, sir.” Her russet brows curved higher. “Would you like that?”
