His captains began to agree, nodding their heads and slapping the top of the table, but there was merriment dancing in Gordon’s eyes.

“I am very sure that there is no danger while the sun is shining, Lord Barras.” She placed emphasis on the word “lord” to make sure everyone heard her English pronunciation of the title. His captains frowned at her, becoming quiet again.

Gordon stood up, and the hall fell completely silent. Not even a spoon scraped against the side of a bowl.

“I am nae so sure, Mistress.”

His words were spoken like a judgment. They rang across the hall, making sure no one wearing his colors missed the fact that he wanted her to remain. Jemma felt as if an iron collar were being locked around her neck.

“I am sorry to hear that we disagree, Lord Barras, for neighbors should be friendly whenever possible; yet I must return to my home. That is, of course, the only correct thing to do. My brother will express his gratitude for the service you have shown me, I am certain of that.”

Jemma lowered herself, curtsying in a perfect display of feminine poise and grace. She rose back up smoothly and promptly turned her back on him. There was astonishment on the faces she saw, a few jaws dropping open. Jemma did not stop to consider any of it. She moved at a quick pace through the great hall, the open doors at the far end beckoning to her.

But she never felt the sunlight touch her face. A strong hand latched around her upper arm and pulled her toward a doorway off to the side of the hall. She didn’t need to question who that grip belonged to because her body leaped with excitement, recognizing the touch instantly. She waited until the door shut behind them and turned on Gordon with all the pent-up fury her false demeanor had stifled.

“I will not stay here. Best you understand that, sir.”

He folded his arms across his chest and placed his body between the door and her. “There will be an understanding here, lass, but no by me. Ye will stay inside this castle until I grant ye leave.”

“You have no right to command me so.”

“No right?” His voice lowered. “I have every right, Jemma. Ye came so close to being killed by yer own foolishness last night that I have earned the right to enforce my will on ye because following yer whims has been proven so perilous.”

She shook her head, unwilling to listen to his words. But he moved forward and cupped her chin in one of his large hands to hold her still.

“Do ye doubt that those English are still out there, or that they have comrades who will help them extract vengeance on anyone they find? Even one of their own?”

“I will be safe at Amber Hill.”

“Ye would need an escort of at least fifty men, and I need those same men to safeguard me villages and fields.”

“But that leaves me stranded here.” Jemma shook off his hand, unable to stomach the touch when she felt as if that iron collar was growing heavier with every sentence he spoke. “I cannot simply live here.”

“And why not?” He stiffened. “Barras Castle is a fine place to live, lass.”

“That is not my objection to remaining and you know it.”

His lips curved up in mocking jest. “Well now, lass, I seem to recall that ye found me to yer liking last night as well. Yer lips moved so sweetly beneath my own—”

“Stop it. Such talk is sinful.”

He moved toward her and she retreated, but they were only in a small storage room and a solid wall stopped her within a few paces. Gordon pressed his hands onto that wall, caging her with his thickly muscled arms. He was so close she could smell his skin once more, and she found it more pleasing than she remembered.

“Well then, I suppose that only leaves us action, if ye do nae want any talking about what is between us.”

“There is nothing between us—”

His mouth smothered the rest of her denial. Today’s kiss was firmer and more demanding. His elbows bent, allowing his body to brush against her own. She jerked, too flooded by sensation to remain still. But Gordon captured the sides of her head once more, his hands spreading wide to hold her face exactly where he wanted it. His mouth continued to demand, pressing against her lips until she opened them. The tip of his tongue teased the soft skin of her lower lip before licking its way along her upper one. It felt as if he was tasting her and savoring every moment. His body kept hers caged against the wall, allowing her no reprieve from the overload of stimulation. It poured into her from the warm scent of his skin to the way his mouth pressed hers to open farther.

“There is a great deal between us, lass, and I am going to enjoy exploring it.” He trailed tiny kisses across her cheek and onto the side of her neck. She shivered, never having suspected that her skin might be so sensitive. Delight traveled down her body, touching off renewed excitement in her belly that swirled and leaped into a roaring blaze of need. She gasped, shuddering at the sheer intensity of that need. It clawed at her like some beast in search of nourishment and the only thing it craved was Gordon. She reached for him, her hands unable to remain at her sides in denial of what she desired. It was suddenly clear to her that she was lonely, her body suffering from not being touched. Her hands absorbed the warmth of his body with gratefulness, setting off a quiver behind her knees. She wanted to sink down and press herself completely against him.

The image of them rolling across the surface of a bed shocked her with the carnality of her desires.

“Stop, Gordon . . . please.” She was pleading, but desperation was welling up inside her because she knew that her resolve was beginning to be undermined by the flood of physical need.

“The sound of my name on yer lips is sweeter than honey, lass.” Gordon straightened his head to lock his gaze with hers. His hands returned to the wall beside her head, and she heard his breathing rasping between his clenched teeth. “Even if I have no liking for what ye are asking me.”

“You must stop.”

He snorted at her, and his eyes lit with determination that warned her. The man did not care for being told what he must do. He leaned forward, but Jemma raised her hand and covered his lips to prevent him from kissing her again.

“I want you to stop.”

He pressed a hand on the center of her chest, his fingers directly over her heart. She gasped, never having felt any man’s hand on the soft swells of her breasts. Even her clothing did not prevent her from shivering.

“The racing of yer heart is telling me to keep kissing ye until I find what ye have hidden beneath yer stays.”

“Don’t you have enough women willing to be ridden because of lust alone? I am a virgin, and your words are misplaced.”

“How about me hand? Do ye disagree with where it is, too?”

His fingers pressed a tiny bit harder against her chest. Fear clawed at her as her nipples began to tingle and harden. She couldn’t seem to resist the urge to respond to him. It was instantaneous and overwhelming.

“You are toying with me. My brother told me that Scotsmen have honor, even if most of England claims otherwise. Do you plan to show me that or prove the rumors true? There are plenty of English that like to hate men born outside of England, but I have never been one of them. I prefer to judge for myself. Maybe that is a mistake.”

His nostrils flared, and she stared at the telltale sign that she had hit him in a soft spot. His hand stayed in place, seeming to grow hotter every moment that it remained against her tender flesh. It should have been impossible to be so aware of a touch, especially when she was so annoyed with him. Everything about their personalities felt as if it was designed to be opposite from the other.

“I deserved that comment.” Gordon’s tone was tight and his face even more so, but he lifted his hand away from her chest to gently stroke the side of her face with his fingertips. She shivered, drawing in a shuddering breath.

“But I just can’t find it in me to say I’m sorry when ye respond so much to my touch, lass.” His fingers made it to her hairline where he tugged on one small lock curling in defiance of the braids that held the longer strands and forced them to be neat.

“I am nae sorry, Jemma, and neither are you.” His voice was tempting, dark, and full of the promise of more delight should she yield to his will.

“But I am asking you to stop.” Because that was the wise choice. One that she detested, and she had to sink her teeth into her own lip to keep from retracting.

His fingers stilled her lips by gliding across them. She quivered and her gaze focused on his mouth, the longing in her belly urging her to gently kiss his fingers in invitation.

“I prefer my name on yer lips.”

She reached up and caught his wrist, but pushing it away caused her lips to lament the separation.

“Send me home, Gordon. I am asking you.”

Jemma could see the conflict in his eyes. It was the same one she felt prickling along her body. The yearning to touch and be touched in return, warring against the demands of honor. In that moment they were not so different in spite of their genders.

“Nae.”

He turned his back on her and moved toward the doorway with purposeful strides.

“Wait.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down.

“Gordon Dwyre, don’t you dare turn your back on me like a coward.”

He growled and turned around in a swirl of Barras tartan, pointing a finger at her.

“Do nae ever call me coward, Jemma, unless ye want to experience just how much daring I have inside me.”

“Then do not turn your back on me just because you do not care for the fact that I am correct in saying that honor demands I return home before I am ruined, and you named as the blackguard who did the deed.”

He chuckled, but it was not a kind sound. “Ye would enjoy the deed, lass, be very sure of that.”

Her throat tightened, forcing her to swallow hard. His eyes filled with enjoyment to see it.

“Exactly why I must remain firm and return home today.” Jemma drew in another breath to force her passion to cool. “I will take my mare and do what is proper before this sinfulness has the chance to go any further. It is best for us both. Go and ask your priest if you think otherwise, but I am firm in this decision.”

“I can see that.” His expression became guarded and his tone too controlled to gain any hint as to his mood.

“Good. We are agreed then. Where is my mare?”

His face remained unreadable. “Where did ye leave her, lass? I’m not accustomed to looking after ye and yer possessions.”

“But surely your boys brought my mare back last night . . .” Her eyes widened with the horror of the possibility that she was without a horse. Amber Hill was too far to walk to.

“I surely did bring ye back with me, and that was were my attention was.”

A soft gasp betrayed just how disturbing she found the idea of being without her mount.

“Well then, I shall need to have the loan of a horse.” Jemma tried to ask nicely, but her voice was sharp with her rising distress.

“I’ve none to spare.”

Jemma felt her cheeks heat. “I watched your men gather up every English horse last night, sir.”

Gordon shrugged and closed the distance between them again. She felt his approach keenly, the quiver instantly returning to the back of her knees. Her insides tightened with anticipation, her breath freezing in her throat as she stared at his hand when it stretched out toward her. His hand cupped her cheek, smoothing over the bright spot, and his lips twitched up.

“Well now, lass, those wouldn’t be my horses to loan to ye.”

“Oh, fye upon you, Gordon Dwyre.” She slapped his hand away, unable to play their polite game any further. “You are toying with me yet again.”

He chuckled, his eyebrows lowering in smug satisfaction. “Maybe so, lass, but I promise ye that ye’ll be locked in the stocks if ye take anything that isna yers by my word.”

Her hands curled into fists and she snarled, but the man turned and left the room before she might hurl another insult at him.

Troll!

Black-hearted, muck-dripping troll!

Gordon rode out of the courtyard moments after she emerged from the room he’d taken her into. His men had assembled and were waiting for their laird while he was with her.

While he was kissing me . . .

Jemma wanted to strangle the voice inside her head. Never had she been plagued by such impure thoughts. Well at least she knew exactly who to blame for their uprise.

She watched the source of her disquiet ride down the road that led to the main castle gates. He moved with the stallion in perfect grace, power radiating from him. Her attention was glued to him as fascination renewed its grip. It wasn’t that she couldn’t tear her eyes away, it was the fact that she failed to think to do so. Finally, Gordon began to blend into the mass of riders in the distance, and she forced herself to investigate her surroundings.