Page 46 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“What?” she asked with surprise. “Nay, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because ye’re wringing yer hands and looking like ye’re ready to bolt fer the door the minute I move away from it,” he said gently.

Elysande glanced down at her hands to see she was indeed wringing them, and immediately let them drop to her sides. “Nay. I just . . .” She paused to try to sort out why she was suddenly so skittish and then sighed as she realized it was the bedchamber. They were alone in a bedchamber, with a bed . . . which wasn’t proper at all. And after what had happened in the woods the last time he’d put liniment on her . . .

A little shiver slid through her as Elysande recalled the pleasure she’d experienced before they’d been interrupted. And that was the problem, she realized. She had enjoyed it, and would like to enjoy it again, but it was so wrong. Circumstances may have forced her to travel alone with eight men who were neither related nor married to her, but there had seemed little choice in the matter. That would be accepted or not by people, but she, God and her mother knew it had been out of necessity. However, if he started kissing and touching her again and she gave in to it—and she would give in to it, Elysande knew—then that would be her shame to carry.

She couldn’t say all of that to Rory though. At least, not without possibly dying of embarrassment, so she said, “I would rather not use the liniment tonight.”

“Lass, dawn is no’ far off. I’m tired and planning to sleep until the nooning tomorrow. I would rather no’ be woken in the middle o’ me sleep because ye refused to allow me to put liniment on now.”

Elysande chewed her lip a bit more and then said, “Well, then mayhap we should have Tom up here while ye put the liniment on. ’Twould be more proper.”

That had his eyes widening incredulously. “Tom up here seeing ye half-naked would be more proper?”

“Nay. Not to watch. He could keep his face to the wall while you did it, but his presence would ensure . . .”

When she paused, blushing, he narrowed his eyes and then scowled and finished for her, “To ensure I behave? Ye think I’d take advantage o’—”

“Nay. So I behave,” Elysande countered quickly, and felt her face go up in flames. She’d only blurted the truth because he appeared to be taking offense and she hadn’t meant for that to happen. But the moment the truth left her mouth, she wished she could call her words back.

“What?” Rory asked with a combination of wonder and the beginnings of a suspiciously pleased smile.

Since she’d already humiliated herself, Elysande gave up on saving her pride in favor of saving her virtue instead, but she wasn’t happy doing it. In fact, she clucked her tongue with irritation before saying, “My lord, I am sure you are aware that you are a very handsome man. You are also a highly intelligent and an exceptionally skilled healer. But as skilled as you are there, you are even more skilled in the arts of the bedchamber of the woods.”

“The bedchamber of the woods?” he queried with a crooked smile.

“I thought it sounded better than at the art of tossing up a lady’s skirt in the woods,” Elysande snapped, annoyed that he would tease her for her choice of words when she was admitting to something so embarrassing.

“Ye were no’ wearing yer skirts, lass,” Rory said, his voice husky. “As I recall, ye were no’ wearing anything at all. There was no tossing up. Just darkness and yer warm body and soft cries.”

Elysande’s flush deepened and she was quite sure the room was growing overwarm from the fire, but she ignored that and struggled on. “The point, my lord, is that you are so damnably skilled in the arts of loving that were you to try them on me again here, I fear I would happily throw off my clothes and toss my maidenhead at you like flower petals before the king.” She frowned at him as she said that because she was sure it was all his fault, and then she added accusatorially, “And you smell good even though you have not bathed since I met you, which is, frankly, just unfair.”

When Rory bowed his head briefly, her gaze narrowed on him. Elysande was quite sure he did it to hide his amusement from her, because she’d spotted his lips twitching just as he lowered his head. However, she couldn’t be sure, and when he lifted his head again, his expression was solemn.

“Lass, I am verra pleased ye find me attractive, like me smell and find me attentions pleasing, for I feel the same way about you,” Rory assured her, and then scowled and said, “What?” when she rolled her eyes at the claim.

“My lord, only a blind man could be attracted to me at the moment with my face swollen and lumpy like a black mass is growing out of it,” she pointed out dryly.

“The swelling is gone, and the black has faded to red like a wine stain on yer cheek. It does no’ hide that ye’re a pretty lass,” he said firmly. “Besides, there is more to ye than just yer pretty face. And do ye really think I’d have acted like such a rutting bull if I did no’ find ye attractive?”

Elysande considered his words and then shrugged unhappily. “My mother did say there were men who so enjoyed mating they’d bed a sheep or old crone, ’twas all the same to them.”

Rory’s jaw dropped, and then he shook his head with disgust. “I am no’ one o’ those men,” he assured her grimly. “I find ye attractive, lass, and usually smart and kind, though I do wish ye’d show yerself some o’ that kindness now, fer I’ve never met a lass so cruel to herself.”

When Elysande didn’t say anything, he sighed wearily.

“Me point is this. Ye need no’ fear tossing yer maidenhead at me, because while I find ye attractive I’m too damned tired right now to accept it,” Rory assured her. “Now take yer tunic off and turn around so I can spread the liniment on and we can get some sleep.”

Elysande didn’t know if it was his irritation, his commanding attitude or the exhaustion now plain to see on his face, but she stopped arguing, and spun away to tug her tunic off.

“Where’s the liniment?” Rory asked testily.

“In the middle bag against the wall,” she answered without looking around, and heard him cross the room. A moment later he was stomping back to smear the cool liniment over her back.

“The bruising is red and green here too now,” he said grudgingly as he worked.

She gave a half shrug. “It no longer hurts to touch, but my muscles still ache back there. I think de Buci’s man damaged them.”

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