Once Upon a Highland Christmas(50)
“No one did.”
“Think you?” Sorley cocked a brow. “Are you so well practiced at sneaking through the night, then? How many times have you crept down empty corridors, slipping into a man’s bedchamber?”
“Never before, but—”
“You’ll no’ do the like again, if you’re wise.” Reaching around her, Sorley cracked the door and peered into the darkened passage. Seeing no one, he turned back to her, needing her gone before he reconsidered his options. An irritating twitch at his loins was making a damned persuasive argument.
He was also tempted simply because her remarkable eyes held nary a flicker of recognition.
She’d forgotten him.
And the knowledge annoyed him almost as much as the slight she’d shown him at her uncle’s celebratory feast all those years ago.
The memory dashed the pleasurable stirrings at his groin.
With slow deliberation, he shut the door and leaned back against its solid, unyielding wood. He crossed his ankles and folded his arms, letting his stance show her that he was prepared to remain there until he had the answers he desired. He was a stubborn man.
Nor did he tire easily.
“So-o-o”—he gave her a slow smile, careful not to let it reach his eyes—“I’d hear why you came to me with such a fool request.”
“Seeing you now, sir,” she returned, her own voice as chilly, “I almost regret my folly.”
“You should.” He studied her face, feeling a scowl darken his own. If anything, she was even more fetching than he remembered. Her silky red-gold hair gleamed in the light of the wall sconce, and her sparkling eyes were still the widest, the loveliest he’d ever seen. Her small, upturned nose gave her an irksome air of innocence, while her mouth, so full and lush…
The pestiferous twitch at his loins returned.
He willed the stirrings away before she noticed and took advantage.
Praise the gods she wore a cloak that only hinted at the ripeness of her womanly curves.
She was no longer a girl.
And for sure, he wasn’t a cocky, full-of-himself lad.
“You haven’t answered me.” He put just enough arrogance into his tone to prove it.
Her chin came up again, showing her own mettle. “I say I did. I am troubled by a matter of some delicacy and require a man’s aid in—”
“Creating a scandal that will soil you,” Sorley finished for her.
To her credit, she blushed. “It could be put that way, yes.”
“That I understand.” He knew exactly what her wish entailed. “I’d know why you’d give me such an honor.”
“Because it is rumored you are one of the Fenris Guards.” She didn’t blink. “Men the King employs when his noble, more fastidious warriors fail him.” She tilted her head, her gaze bold. “Word is men of the Fenris will do anything. They are known to be fearless. Formidable fighters who”—her eyes took on an entirely too determined glint—“are also known for their legendary skill at seducing women.”
Sorley laughed. “The Fenris are legend, my lady. Such men dinnae exist.”
“I have heard you are one of them.”
“All I am is a bastard. Though”—he flashed his most roguish smile—“I’ll admit I enjoy tumbling comely, willing lasses. That includes ladies of quality so long as they are wed or widowed and looking for mutual pleasure. I do not lie with virgins.”
“You speak bluntly.” She glanced aside, the wall sconce revealing the high color blooming on her cheeks.
“I told you the truth, no more.”
He was also damned glad to have shocked her. In his experience, just a hint of a man’s baser nature was enough to send a lady running. Their fear of carnality filled their innocent minds, chasing all else. She wouldn’t mention the Fenris again. And when he discovered who’d dared to breathe his name in connection with the band of secret warriors, there’d be hell to pay.
“Then I shall do the same.” She looked back at him, now calm. “You spoke true and so you deserve to hear my fullest reasons.” Her head high, she went back to the window arch across the room. When she turned to look at him, she might as well have kicked him in the gut.
Rarely had he seen a woman more bent on having her way.
Regrettably, he also hadn’t ever gazed upon a female he found more desirable.
She clearly knew it.
And she meant to take advantage.
Proving it, she moved to the small oaken table by the window where a ewer of finest wine and a jug of excellent heather ale waited almost conspiratorially amidst the remains of his evening repast. Equally annoying, as he truly did enjoy entertaining amiable women in his quarters, a half-score of ale cups and wine chalices stood at the ready, each one gleaming softly in the candlelight.