Beyond the Highland Myst(479)

"I doona wish it to be part of our'deal.'"

"You think you can seduce me," she accused.

He caught his bottom lip with his teeth, released it slowly, and smiled. It was such an obvious thing, that gesture, Chloe thought irritably, deliberately designed to focus her attention on his lips. She saw through it, she did—but that didn't stop it from working every darned time he did it. From making her self-consciously moisten her own. Damn and double-damn, she thought, the man was good.

You're already seduced, Chloe-lass, Dageus thought, watching her, 'tis but a matter of accepting, a mere matter of time now. She wanted him. 'Twas no one-sided heat. Theirs was a dangerous attraction that defied logic or reason. She was as helplessly fascinated by him as he was by her. Each knew they should walk away from the other: he, because he had no right to corrupt her; she, because on some level she sensed that something was wrong with him. But neither was able to resist the pull. Devil and Angel: he, seduced by her lightness; she, tempted by his darkness. Each drawn to what they lacked.

"Well, you won't succeed," she said stiffly, piqued by his smug masculinity.

"I trust you'll forgive a man for tryin', lass. A kiss to seal it?"

"I mean it," she pushed. "I'm not going to be just another one of your women."

"I doona see any other women around here, lass," he said coolly. "Do you?"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Have I asked anyone else to go to Scotland?"

"I said okay, all right? I'm just making sure you understand the terms."

"Och, I understand the terms," he said in a dangerously soft voice.

She thrust out her hand. "Then shake."

When he raised it to his lips and kissed it, Chloe felt suddenly light-headed.

The moment felt, well… positively momentous. As if she'd just made a decision that would forever alter her life, in ways she couldn't even begin to imagine. The Greeks had a word for such a moment. They called it Kairos—a moment of destiny.

Giddy with excitement, she rose and, with a connoisseur's eye and no mercy for the devil's wallet, began selecting her treasures.





* * *





Chapter 8




The man had never really tried to seduce her, Chloe decided the next morning when she raced down the steps and ran smack into him as he was stepping out of the first floor bathroom at the base of the stairs.

Seduction was this: one look at him in nothing but a towel.

Towering, two hundred pounds-plus of glistening golden skin poured over solid muscle, a sinfully small towel about his hips. Sculpted torso, rippling abs. A small cut marring his muscled chest, from their skirmish yesterday. A dark silky trail of hair disappearing beneath the soft white fabric.

Wet. Little beads of water shimmering on his skin. Thick black hair slicked back from his face, falling in a wet tangle to his waist.

And she knew that if she said the word, he would stretch that incredible body full-length on top of her and—

Chloe made a little puffing noise, as if the air had been knocked out of her. "G'morning," she managed.

"Madainn mhath, lass," he purred his reply in Gaelic, steadying her by the elbows. "I trust you slept well without the bonds?"

He may not have tied her, but he'd slept outside her door. She'd heard him out there, moving about. "Yes," she said a bit breathlessly.

The man was just too beautiful for any woman's peace of mind.

He stared down at her a long moment. "We've much to do before we leave," he said, releasing her arms. "I'll be but a few moments getting dressed."

He skirted around her and went up the stairs. She turned, bemused, watching him with wide eyes. He hadn't even tried to kiss her, she thought, irritated with him that he hadn't, and irritated with herself for being irritated that he hadn't. Heavens, the man filled her with impossible duality. She was determined not to be seduced, yet she relished his seduction. It made her feel utterly feminine and alive.

Holy cow, she thought, watching him. With each step he ascended, the muscles in his legs flexed. Perfect calves, hard-as-rock thighs. Tight butt. Trim waist flaring to muscular shoulders. Absolutely ripped with muscle, he was powerful-looking in a lean, hungry way. Time seemed to spin out dreamily while she watched him.

"Oh!" she gasped suddenly, going rigid with shock.

Had he really done that?

God! How would she ever get that vision of him out of her mind?

At the top of the stairs the blasted man had dropped his towel!

As he was taking that last step. Legs slightly parted. Giving her the briefest glimpse of… oh!

She was still trying to breathe and not succeeding very well, when she heard a soft, husky and very smug laugh.

Shameless womanizer!