Page 31 of Illicit Heir

So I lift my chin, grab some clothes from my dresser drawer, then return to the bathroom.

He calls out, "What are ya doing, lass?"

"Changing," I answer, shutting the door.

He shouts, "I've seen ya naked—a lot. In fact, that's all I've seen of ya for the last eight hours. Ya can get dressed out here."

I ignore him and put my clothes on. I take the towel off my head, comb my hair, then hang my towels up. I open the cabinet, pull out a fresh towel, and set it on the sink. I open the door and jump.

Devin's standing in front of it, his palms on the doorframe.

I blurt out, "Whoa, trying to scare me?"

Amusement fills his expression. "Now, why would I want to do that?"

"Standing in front of the doorway is a little freaky, don't ya think?"

"Is it?" he asks, with an expression like he's genuinely confused.

"Yea," I say, then nudge past him. "Towel's on the counter for ya. Use whatever's in my shower that ya want."

"Who said I'm showering?" he questions.

I spin and arch my eyebrow. "Ya don't shower? Are ya a dirty bloke?"

His lips twitch. "I think ya know the answer to that."

More heat permeates my face. I put my hand over it and groan. "You're impossible." Yet I can't help but smile. Something about him is charming, even though he's annoying and so damn arrogant. I'm sure if I added up the cockiness of all the men in my entire village, it wouldn't equal the amount in him.

"Ya love it," he claims.

I ignore his statement and ask, "Ya really don't want to shower?"

He shrugs. "I'd rather smell ya on me all day, but I guess I'll shower. Got a long ride ahead of us."

I freeze, and the hairs on my arms prick to life. I question, "Long ride? I thought ya were on a blokes' weekend."

His expression changes, and I'm unsure what to make of it.

Is it surprise?

Did he just get caught with his hand in the cookie jar? What is it about that look of his?

He recovers quickly, not giving me much time to decipher his expression, and says, "Aye, we are, but we're still an hour out from where we're going."

"An hour's a long drive?" I ask, still not buying his lame excuse.

He nods.

"So where exactly are ya going?"

"North."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He shrugs. "I don't know the town. My brother's picking a place."

"Why do I not believe ya?"

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