When she failed to summon an answer, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Her cheeks flamed hot as she remembered her letter. She felt a pang of guilt for not telling him she was seeking royal assistance to annul their marriage—and stifled it.
“I promise, I won’t shout at ye. And I won’t touch ye…” Ian’s voice trailed off as his gaze slid over her, as if he were remembering every part of her he’d had his hands on two nights before. “… unless ye want me to.”
She could not get enough air. With his dark hair falling over one eye and the shadow of beard over his strong jaw, Ian looked rough and dangerously handsome.
He drew his brows together. “I wouldn’t hurt ye. Surely ye know that?”
He would. He already had.
Ian’s gaze drifted around the room. “You’ve made it nice in here.” He sniffed and the corners of his mouth tipped up. “Smells much better than when I slept here as a lad. It used to smell of dogs and horses—and me, I suppose.”
She remembered waking to the smell of him when he crawled into bed with her. The scent had lingered faintly in her bed, giving her a restless night.
She swallowed as Ian’s gaze fell on the bed and remained there for a long moment.
“I came to ask ye about the accounts ye showed me,” he said, bringing his gaze back to her.
How did a man get such blue eyes?
“I’m sure my da didn’t record such things, though perhaps one of the men working for him did,” Ian said. “So, you’ll have to teach me.”
She raised her eyebrows, since he had paid no attention the first time she tried to show him.
He lifted the stool that was against the wall with one hand, set it next to her, and sat down in one easy motion. The man moved as she imagined a lion would, all grace and rippling muscle.
She jumped when he scooted his stool closer.
As he reached across her for the pile of parchments, his arm and shoulder pressed against hers, sending heat radiating through her body. “Now let’s have a look at these.”
She awoke from her daze and grabbed the stack away from him.
“These are in order!” she said, her voice coming out high and squeaky.
He gave her an amused look, blue eyes sparkling, and raised an eyebrow.
To cover her embarrassment, she began explaining her method of keeping track of the farm’s livestock. “Ye see, I mark all the new calves here—”
He touched her hand, and the words dried in her mouth.
“Ye were always better at figures than me, Sil.”
“Only because ye lack patience.” She attempted a severe look, though, despite herself, her heart swelled with the compliment.
“Impatience is a failing of mine.” Ian gave her a slow smile as he dragged his finger up her forearm. “A failing I’m trying verra hard to cure.”
She swallowed. “I know what ye are trying to do.”
“Do ye now?” He brushed a stray curl from her cheek, sending a shiver all the way to her fingertips and toes.
“You’re trying to seduce me.”
“We should each do what we’re good at,” he said, his eyes glimmering. Without shifting his gaze from her face, he waved his hand toward the parchments. “You’re good with figures, so ye should keep doing that.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she would not be here to do it, but stopped herself. Ian was set on doing his duty to his family and clan, and he had decided that duty included making her his true wife. It was best, then, that he not know she was making other plans.
“And what are you good at?” she asked instead.
“Just as ye say,” he said, leaning closer, his even white teeth gleaming. “Seducing my wife.”
She felt herself blush to her roots. “I’m no your wife.”
“But ye are,” he said.
“Ye did not claim me for five years.”
He slid a hand beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck as he leaned toward her. “Well, I’m claiming ye now.”
The saints protect her, Ian was going to kiss her. The memory of waking to his kisses sent an unfamiliar rush of desire through her. His lids were half lowered over eyes that held a molten heat like the blue in a hot fire. She felt herself leaning toward him, like a moth flying into the flame.
His kiss was soft and sensuous, caressing her lips with a tantalizing suggestion of all that a kiss could be. When he drew away, she followed him. He smiled against her lips, then ran his tongue lightly over her bottom lip. How could that small movement fill her with such a powerful yearning? She gripped the front of his linen shirt in her fists to steady herself.
He made a sound deep in his throat that she felt more than heard. When he pressed his mouth to hers this time, it wasn’t a teasing brush of lips but a kiss that sent the blood pounding through her veins. She felt his heart beating beneath her hands as he pulled her against him.
