“I do. Thank ye, Ala.” And indeed Evina did appreciate it. The fabrics Ala chose were soft and light as a summer breeze, and the servant always took the care to provide some form of a soldier’s addition to the clothing. Either a breastplate or, as with the current gown, a sling of leather around her waist with a jeweled dagger thrust into the sheath.
Ala folded her long arms over her chest and drifted back to admire her work before giving a satisfied nod of approval. Evina didn’t hesitate to escape lest Ala find another small length to smooth or shift. It was frivolous when Evina would have been perfectly fine in trews and a léine.
She made her way down the long hall, passing the sullen faces of Maclean ancestors and impressive pieces of ancient furniture. No servants were about and the solitary silence pressed in around her. Had she ever in her life known such silence?
Typically she found herself among armies of men either training for, engaging in, or recovering from battle. From ships to castles and out beneath the great wide sky of the whole world, never had Evina possessed such peaceful quiet to cherish.
A masculine voice trailed from the open door of the library, its timbre sensual and familiar. Evina’s mouth curled into a smile, and she didn’t bother to stop it.
Duncan.
If he was an ordinary man, she might have charged into the room with her head held high and her stance wide. She would demand he take her to bed if he wanted her, or she would just as well find another to sate her desires.
Her intentions would be known and she would have what she wanted. After all, no man had ever said no.
Her heartbeat slammed in her chest at the thought of saying such words to Duncan. Her pulse came too fast and her lungs cramped as if lacking the space to expand properly. Heat scorched in her cheeks and suddenly she was jittery with nerves.
She forced action into her body and made her way on shaking legs to the doorway. She stopped before the closed doors and clenched her fists in frustration.
Why was she so damned nervous? She was a woman who met a challenge with a glint in her eye and a sword in hand, not one who backed down and cowered.
“There isna much time left for this to work, laird. Ye shouldna tell her.” Gillespie’s voice cut off her self-admonishment.
“I have to.” Duncan’s tone was hard, the way men spoke when they were stressed. “I dinna want to keep this from her. I…”
“Ye what?” The question was asked with careful reproach, a servant breaching the line of appropriate conversation with their laird.
“I’m enjoying my life for the first time since the curse. I care for her.” Duncan said it haltingly, with obvious hesitation.
Evina’s breath caught. He cared for her. A glowing heat filled her chest.
He cared for her.
She leaned against the wall and let the joy bloom on her lips and swirl in her stomach. Men had held affection for her before, foolish ones who had attempted to protect her in battle and fallen in their efforts. Yet never had she understood the elation of learning of a man’s regard.
She straightened and reveled in the new knowledge. She could not continue to remain outside the doorway, listening to their private conversation. There was a pause in their discussion, which opened up the perfect occasion.
Evina swept open the doors and hoped her cheeks were not as brilliantly red as their heat indicated they might be.
“Ach, there she is now,” Gillespie said with an overly enthusiastic clap of his hands.
Duncan said nothing. His gaze fell on Evina and lingered, as if he were cherishing the vision of her. He swallowed. “Evina, ye’re radiant.”
The man knew what to say to a woman. The nervous flutters dancing in her stomach settled. She sauntered up to him and met his eyes, her confidence bolstered. “I had a pleasant evening.” She walked past him, but held his stare. “Though it could have been better.”
And it truly could have. Sleep had been hard to come by with her body burning with unspent passion. He had been so hungry for her, ravenous. It was exciting, and inspired in her a similar eager appetite.
Duncan’s face flushed. The man was actually blushing.
If ever a man had blushed or let his hands tremble over Evina before, she would never have considered letting him anywhere near her bed. And yet when the powerfully strong Duncan Maclean blushed, it made everything in her melt.
“Evina, I have to talk to ye,” he said. Desire gleamed in his eyes and made the gentle pulse between her thighs throb.
Gillespie gave Duncan a hard look. “I’ll leave ye alone. If there is anything ye must discuss.” He said the words slowly, carefully. Almost as a warning.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed at his servant. “Good day, Gillespie.”
The servant quit the room in a clipped stride and closed tight the door behind him.
Duncan turned to her. “Evina.” His stare caressed over her once more. “Ye’re so damn beautiful.”
She gave him a coy look and swayed toward him, the way she’d seen whores do, knowing she was distracting him. Hell, she was distracted herself. By his size, and the searing memory of that kiss.
“Ye wanted to say something to me?” she asked. But she had no intention to listen. Not yet. Not when she knew what she wanted, what he wanted. What they would both get.
CHAPTER 9
FIRE RACED in Evina’s veins, hot with expectation. Duncan was a scant step away, a distance easily closed.
He sucked in a soft breath, a quiet intake of air, audible in the silence.
“What did ye want to say to me, Duncan?” she glanced up at him.
The wall of his chest was so close, her breasts tingled with the heat of his body. A tantalizing shiver wound down her spine.
He swallowed. “I canna seem to remember.”
She slid her hands up his
