He raised one hand, and the music stopped. Challenge flashed from his eyes, but it was the look of anticipation that forced her hand.
“It is lovely.” Jemma forced her feet to move toward the table and felt her heart rate accelerating with every hesitant step. Gordon sat down across the table from her, but the small piece of furniture caused their knees to feel no more than a whisper from one another. His lack of doublet suddenly drew her attention, her gaze moving over the light fabric.
“We Scots are a bit more accustomed to the weather, lass. I don’t need a doublet inside this time of year.”
Her cheeks heated because he’d noticed where her eyes had settled. Well, in all truth she shouldn’t be surprised, the man was facing her, but most men wouldn’t have mentioned it out loud. She drew in a deep breath and reminded herself that Gordon was very far removed from the men she knew. Her brother was controlled and pensive, always weighing his thoughts before allowing anyone else to share them.
Gordon picked her up and carried her where he pleased if she refused.
“I believe that the idea is for us to have a conversation, lass.”
She jumped. “Ah . . . well . . . I suppose so.”
Maids were carrying in food now, but they didn’t stay long. They left two large platters, removing the tops to reveal beautifully arranged plates. There were summer vegetables, roasted chicken, and even baked apples.
“Ye sound unsure? Does that mean we may dispense with the English tradition and go back to the Scottish ones?”
Jemma offered a roll of her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling at him. “You are a boy.” She pointed her knife at his chest. “Right there inside you is a boy no more than ten.”
He chuckled and speared a piece of chicken with the point of his eating knife. “Well now, that’s just the playful side of me nature. Ye have one, too.”
Jemma shook her head. “I have matured, sir.”
His face turned pensive for a moment while he chewed. “Nae, lass, ye just pushed yer own desires aside to take care of yer father. It’s time for ye to allow them freedom from that chest ye have them locked inside of.”
“I see, and does that mean you would have to wife a woman who was busy coddling her heart’s desires?” Jemma shook her head. “Marriage is duty, and it is best met with maturity.”
He frowned. “Now that is just plain pitiful. I swear I don’t know if I need to put ye out of yer misery or”—his lips parted to show her his teeth—“chase ye around this table.”
One of the musicians struck a wrong note, proving that they were listening intently to every word.
“Both would defeat your effort to court me gently.” Jemma had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at the idea because it was so absurd. It was also quite exciting, because she had no doubt that he would capture her
“Ah, but I think we might enjoy chasing more.” He pressed his hand flat on the tabletop, rising partially from his chair. Jemma gasped and dropped her knife.
“You wouldn’t dare.” The words had barely left her mouth before she recalled his words from that morning.
He growled and his chair flew backward. The musicians stopped, but there were several smothered sounds that were anything but horrified. Jemma was grateful for her plain dress because it allowed her to slip out of her chair and make it around the table before Gordon gained the upper hand.
“This is absurd.” But she was breathless and far from outraged.
“Aye, but ’tis fun.” He lunged for her, and she danced away from his grasping hands.
“Stop it, Gordon, you are going to ruin all this fine table dressing.”
“I employ good laundresses, and I know a competent silversmith.”
This time he thrust his hand over the table, using his large body to bend over the table and catch her skirt.
She let out a shriek, but no fear crossed her mind. It was simply too ridiculous to become frightened over. Gordon growled with victory and pulled her into his embrace. He ended up behind her, crossing his arms over her body to cage her.
“My prize!”
“I believe the idea was to court me, not capture me, you brute.”
“’Tis the same thing in Scotland.”
Jemma wiggled, but he held her firmly in place. It was an oddly comfortable position, one that didn’t overwhelm her but allowed her to feel him against her without triggering the need to fight him off.
“Ask any Highlander and they will tell ye that stealing women is a time-honored tradition. In fact, I’m nae sure they get their wives any other way.”
“I heard that one of your kings married his mistress.”
“Ah . . .” He released her, keeping only one wrist clasped in his hand, and she turned to face him.
“Now that is seduction and I like that, too.” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the tender skin of her inner wrist. Sensation raced down her arm, raising gooseflesh as it went. The excitement that burned in her belly began spreading through her, touching off a desire that made her breathless. He lifted his lips away and rubbed over the same spot with his thumb, clearly feeling the accelerated throb of her heart.
