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  “Why, because he’s rich, handsome, and charming? Because he has a handful of castles, speaks French, and knows the same people as you? None of that means shite if you don’t want to bed him at night, Ella.”

  He’d angered her. Her face flushed red and her eyes shot off little sparks of fire. “And you’re so sure I don’t?”

  He knew she was trying to prod him into reacting, but he wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to push her back against the door and prove it to her. Not that it wasn’t damned tempting.

  But he did back her up a little, closing the distance between them to a hairbreadth. He could practically feel the furious beat of her heart against his chest. “I think the only bed you want to climb into is mine.”

  She tried to push him back. “You arrogant—”

  “Why else are you here alone with me when you know well what happens whenever we are together?” He caught her wrist and wrapped it around his waist so their bodies were just touching. “Why else did you follow me up the hill? You want me, El, just as badly as I want you.”

  As if to prove the truth of his words, her body shuddered against his. It reverberated through him like a lightning bolt, setting off every primal instinct in his body. Take her. Make her yours.

  But he couldn’t give in. She had to come to him on her own—not blindly with eyes clouded by lust. Not that he didn’t intend to use the passion between them to his advantage.

  “Does he do this to you, El?” His voice was low and husky. “Does he make your body tremble for his touch? Does he make your breath quicken and your lips part for his kiss?” He moved the pad of his thumb over the velvety pillow of her lower lip, wishing it were his mouth. He wanted to drink her in. He wanted to slide his tongue in deep and taste every inch of her.

  He leaned closer, brought his face to the side of her neck, inhaling the soft floral fragrance of the soap she used to wash her hair and blowing softly into her ear. She groaned, melted, and he almost forgot himself—almost.

  He slipped one hand under the edge of her cloak, cupping her breast gently in his hand as his thumb rolled over the taut peak. After holding back for so long, he still couldn’t get used to being able to touch her exactly as he wanted. “Does he make these sweet little nipples hard? Do you want his mouth on you, sucking you?” She gasped at his wicked words, and he skimmed his hand to her waist to slide between her legs. “Does he make you hot and wet? Do you want him to put his hand right there”—he pressed—“and slide his finger into all that creamy softness?”

  The gasp turned to a whimper, a deep whimper that egged him on. He was so damned hot; his body was on fire.

  His tongue flicked in her ear. “Does he want to lick you up? Does he want to taste you until you shatter against his mouth?” She froze, and he chuckled. “Does that shock you? That is only one of the things I want to do to you. There are so many things I could show you about pleasure. I want you standing naked before me so I can see every inch of that beautiful body, I want you to ride me, I want to feel your mouth on me.”

  Her whimpers were coming harder now, and he was not unaffected. The sultry haze he’d spun had wrapped around them both. He’d never talked like this to anyone in his life. But he wanted her to know everything he could bring her—everything she’d be giving up. But he was hard as a hammer, his blood pounding, close to the edge of his restraint.

  He molded his hands on her breasts before turning her around and nestling her in the curve of his body. “Or maybe you’d like it from behind.” She arched into his hands, her bottom instinctively pressing against his hardness. “Aye, do you like that, sweetheart?” He kept one hand on her breast while the other dipped down in front between her legs, showing her how it would be. How he could pleasure her.

  Unfortunately, she was also showing him, and it took everything he had not to move his hips against her and let the friction of that sweet bottom pressing against his aching cock release the pressure threatening to explode from the base of his spine.

  He should never have started a game that he knew he could not finish. But, Christ, it felt good. And the knowledge that she liked what he was saying to her . . .

  He swore and pulled back.

  She stared at him mutely, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and eyes heavy with arousal.

  “Marry me and you will have all that and more. I will spend every day for the rest of my life making sure that you never regret it.” He took her hand and put it on his chest over his heart. “My heart beats for you, Elizabeth. It has always beat for you. And I think yours beats for me. That’s why you’ll never be happy with Randolph.”

  “You’re wrong!” She yanked her hand back as if scalded, looking as if she was close to tears.

  But in doing so, she gave him his last argument. “Am I?” He looked down at her wrist, where beneath the edge of the sleeve of her cloak and velvet surcoat he could see the thin layer of brass resting against her wrist. “Then why do you still wear a cheap piece of metal when your wrists could be covered in gold and rubies?”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment but just stared down at the bracelet as if she’d never seen it before. A lifetime of emotions crossed her lovely features before her eyes lifted to his again. “What you want is impossible, Thommy.”

  “I know. There is every reason for you to refuse me and only one to say yes.”

  “What is that?”

  “When you know, you will have your answer.” He stood back. “You should go.”

  This time she didn’t argue. She put her hand on the door before turning to look over her shoulder at him. “I will be back tomorrow or the next day with everything you need.” Seeing his expression, she added, “Don’t worry, I won’t stay.”

  “It’s not that. I won’t be here.”

  Her eyes rounded in panic that was fantastically revealing. “You’re leaving?”

  “Only for a day or two. Bruce has a mission for me.”

  The king had been disappointed but not surprised when Thom told him that even if he attempted to climb Edinburgh—with the result being almost certain death—there would be no way to safely get others up after him. With a surprise attack on the garrison at Edinburgh unlikely—at least from the cliffs—Bruce decided to focus on other missions. The first was an attempt to free a handful of men being held prisoner at Dunbar, another allegedly invulnerable castle located on an “inaccessible” rock. Thom had no intention of disappointing the king again. If it was physically possible, he was going to do it.

  Elizabeth’s relief that he wasn’t leaving was so palpable he told himself it was only a matter of time before she realized the truth of her feelings. “It isn’t dangerous?”

  “Nay,” he lied. “You don’t need to worry, I will return hearty and hale before you even have time to miss me.”

  She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him. “You will be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Their eyes held and something deep and powerful passed between them. “Then Godspeed, and I will see you when you return.”

  She could damned well count on it.

  19

  ELIZABETH HAD PLENT OF time to think over the next two days. But really there was not much to think about. The answer—the only possible answer—was clear.

  Thom was wrong. She wasn’t going to marry Randolph because she was scared, she was going to marry him because it was her duty and the smart—indeed the only rational—thing to do. Any woman in her position would do the same. He was refined, handsome, charming, and would soon be one of the most wealthy and powerful men in the kingdom. He would bring prominence, added wealth, and prestige to the Douglases. He was the king’s nephew, for goodness’ sake! She would be a fool not to accept his proposal when it came.

  Marry me . . .

  The sharp tug in her chest did not lessen no matter how many times the words echoed through her head. Why was Thom doing this to her? He had to know what he asked was impossible. She couldn’t marry him. Even if there was