Page 13 of The Highlander's Dare
Graham nodded and turned away from her, threading his way around the stands and away from the crowds. Behind the staggered platforms that started on the bottom at the height of a man, he found fewer people, and he was able to walk by unnoticed. If he went left, he’d be heading back to the castle, and if he went right, he’d be heading toward the horses.
Baston was more likely to be with the horses, which would be good for seeing Clara with him. But at the same time, it would be bad, because right now they were going to make plans and he was going to trynotto kiss her. And so, he went left, heading in the direction of the castle. Every so often, he glanced behind him to make certain she was still following, relieved to see that she was and that no one else seemed the wiser.
At the last second, though, before they passed by all the tents, he veered toward them. Being at the castle was just asking to be seen, and he didn’t want to risk an interruption or getting thrown out of the tournament for meeting with her alone. And so, he headed for his tent, weaving in and out. There was hardly a soul in sight with everyone having gone to the parade, and he slipped inside his tent, holding the flap partially open, so when she came by, he could grasp her arm and pull her inside.
A second later, she started to pass, and he thrust his hand out, encircling her delicate wrist.
She gasped and then laughed as he tugged her inside and let the flap drop.
“Smart, Sir Graham.”
“Listen, if we are to be making plans—if we are to be friends—then perhaps we should dispense of the ‘Sir Graham’ and ‘Lady Clara?’”
“And what would you have us go by instead? Code names? I would like to be Phoenix,” she said, rubbing her hands together and grinning mischievously. “And you can be Shield.”
“I thought we’d simply go by Graham and Clara, but if ye prefer the code names, Shield does have a nice ring to it.”
Clara turned in a circle, looking about his tent, eyes on the piles of discarded garments.
“We’ve no’ got a maid, lass, and our men that rode with us are no’ the cleaning up type.”
She laughed and turned back around. “Mind if I sit?” She pointed to his pallet.
Graham nodded. “Dinna, I beg ye.” If she sat there, he’d never get her scent out of his mind, and every night he went to bed, it would be with thoughts of her.
“Oh,” she pursed her lips, a little confused, but his reasoning was not one he was willing to shed light on. “Then, we shall stand.” She straightened her back and folded her hands in front of her.
“’Tis just that—” He cut himself off before he could tell her exactly why he didn’t want her to sit. “If we need to make our escape quickly, standing will be easier.”
“Very true, good thinking.”
“Aye.” Graham stared at her, taking in the green of her eyes, the round of her shoulders, and the delicate collar bones that he wanted to run his fingers across.
They were all alone here. And if he were to kiss her, no one would be the wiser. If she wanted him to kiss her… His gaze fell to her lips, and a surge of desire, heated and potent, ran through him.
Graham shook his head.
“What is it?” Her voice had lowered an octave, and if he wasn’t mistaken, some of the desire running through him appeared to be mirrored in her own gaze.
“Nothing.” He tugged at his collar. “I was simply thinking of what the next step in your plan should be.”
She drew in a long breath and flashed him a smile. “I’m glad because I have wracked my brain for days, and all I keep coming up with is an image of myself running through the forest.”
Graham chuckled. “That would not help your situation.”
“Not in the least.” She shook her head and laughed.
Why did her laugh have to be so enticing? Graham worked hard to focus on the topic at hand. “This is what I’ve been thinking about: first, every warrior has a good luck charm. Ye’re going to destroy it.”
ASGRAHAM LISTEDoff the ways in which Clara was to destroy their mutual enemy, she was completely enthralled. Impressed with his ideas, for they were certain to work, but she was also mesmerized by the strength of him, the humor in him, and the way he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth.
Did he want to kiss her?
Now her mind was on kissing, and with every curve of his lips, with every syllable uttered, she imagined what it would feel like if he took her in his arms. Her body pressed to his, the heat between them curling around her limbs like a blanket. The strong desire she’d seen in his eyes as his gaze trailed over her face once more, and then he’d kiss her, and the world would disappear.
They were all alone. No one there to see. If she were just to take three steps forward, she’d close the distance between them, and she could claim her first kiss.
And what a kiss to be had it would be. The very best of kisses, and one she could take home with her to Normandy to savor all the rest of her days, or if their plan didn’t work, one she could recall every time Bloody Baston kissed her.
