Lydia started to laugh. “You really don’t want all those things, do you?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, lass. I certainly do not. Do you not ken sarcasm when you hear it? I canna speak for those bloody English fools, but you are beautiful. Why you should think otherwise is beyond me.”
He could see the disbelief still in her eyes. “I think I understand sarcasm better than you realize,” she said defiantly.
“I mean it, lass. Call yourself unattractive again and I will put you over my knee. A spanking would set that mind of yours to rights.”
She flushed deeply, much to his delight.
“You can’t do that. I am a grown woman.”
He trailed his fingers down her throat, his lashes lowering as he gazed at her parted lips. “I can and I will, lass. And afterward you will beg me to take you to bed.”
“For striking me?” She arched a brow. “I’m quite certain I would not.”
“You misunderstand me. It wouldna hurt much. It would ease into a burn that would make you desire me.” Her breathing hitched, and he held in a laugh. “Now, I remember telling you to go to bed.”
“I’m sorry. I was dancing because the music downstairs was so lively.” She turned away from him to approach the bed. “Good night, Mr. Kincade. I hope you and Mr. Lennox sleep well.”
“Thank you, lass. I’m sure we will.” He began undressing, and when she noticed, she halted midway through pulling the covers back on the bed.
“But you aren’t sleeping here!”
“I certainly am.” He smirked recklessly at her, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“But there are three rooms. One for me, the valets, and then you and Mr. Lennox.”
“Oh, no. I’m not about to share a room with Rafe—not when I can share a bed with you.”
That fear sparked in her eyes again, and he knew it was genuine. “I’ll not touch you, lass, no matter how you tempt me with your dancing.” He unbuttoned his waistcoat before he continued. “But you and I will share a bed. After all the misery you put me through, I am owed a few nights of feeling your sweet curves pressed against my body.”
He tossed his waistcoat over a chair and pulled his long white shirt over his head.
“Now, in bed, Lydia,” he commanded, though he kept his tone gentle. He gripped her shawl and slowly drew it away from her body, before letting it fall to the floor. Then he scooped Lydia up in his arms and tossed her onto the bed. She gave a little gasp of surprise at being plopped on the bed, before she scrambled under the blankets.
“I still think you should be staying with Mr. Lennox. It’s not like I can escape. Where would I go?”
“I’ve underestimated your cunning once too often, lass. Besides, I have no interest in watching him take a tavern maid to bed a few feet from me.” He removed his boots, stockings, and trousers. Lydia stared at him like she’d never seen a man before, but perhaps she hadn’t. Not like this, at any rate. He couldn’t deny he was starting to think she was more innocent than she’d first led him to believe. But then, she wouldn’t be the first lass to profess more carnal knowledge than she actually possessed.
He slid into bed beside her, wearing nothing but his smallclothes. The candle on the table beside him flickered, casting shadows over her face.
“Don’t be scared, lass.” He reached up to cup her face, and she closed her eyes but didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that last evening you were still calmed by the laudanum, and tonight you are not hampered by it. I fear you will . . .”
“I will not,” he vowed. “No matter how you tempt me.”
Her eyes opened, and a spark of fire flashed in them. “Tempt you? By simply being here? It isn’t a woman’s fault if a man is tempted by her mere presence. That is your fault and yours to control.”
“Aye, true. But you do tempt me, and I willna say otherwise.”
Her eyes cooled a little, and he saw a return to a reasonable expression now that she felt less threatened.
“Why don’t we talk a bit?” she asked. “Conversation will help you focus on being a gentleman.” Her tone sounded so calm, as though she were sitting with him in some drawing room and he’d come courting her with a bouquet of flowers like some lovestruck lad.
He chuckled. “Gentleman? You do say the most amusing things.” But she was right, talking would distract him, at least for a little while, from his fantasies of the pleasurable things he would like to do to her.
“Very well. What should we talk about?”
“Well, what about your home, or Scotland? I’ve never been and would like very much to hear you tell me about it.”
“You wish to hear about my home?” He hadn’t expected her to care about such things, but she’d enjoyed the Mungo Park expedition book he’d given her.
He rolled onto his back, his gaze fixed on the timbers above their heads.
“I come from the clan Kincade. We live in the southern part of Scotland. Some would call us Lowlanders, but we aren’t. Lowlanders are more English in their way of thinking. To a true scot, he can be a highlander even if he lives in the lowlands. All clans are different too, many would argue with the point I made just now.”
“What does that mean, to be in a clan?” Lydia asked. “It’s more than just a family, isn’t it?”
“In the old days, before the Battle of Culloden, it did mean one’s family. The word clan itself is from the Gaelic word clann, which means children.”
“Children?”
“Aye. A man in a distant time began a family, and his name was carried on in the lives of all of his family members. And the people of Scotland, even as divided as we are by names, are all like the wild deer herds that roam the remote glens and mountain passes. We, like the deer, appear and disappear, vanishing into the dense forests, only to reemerge whenever we wish. We are the Clann a’ Cheò.”
“What does that mean, Clann a’ Cheò?” Lydia moved a little closer, and he placed his hands beneath his head.
“It means ‘children of the mist.’”
A soft sigh came from her side of the bed. “It’s rather lovely, and it sounds fitting.” Her tone was filled with a quiet wonder that stirred a strange feeling within his chest.
“Scotland is lovely,” he agreed, and a sudden, undeniable need to be home filled him, making his chest tight. “Some call it a harsh land, because it has so few soft edges like England. But what is there—the cold lochs, the rocky mountains, the wooded glens and primeval forests—’tis stunning. All that is strong lives and grows in Scotland. There is a beauty to that.”
He closed his eyes, picturing the lands around Castle Kincade, the way the light gleamed upon the green hills where the castle perched and the way the sky reflected upon the still waters of the loch nearby.
“That does sound rather wonderful.”
“The land changes with the seasons. In spring, the fields are covered with wildflowers. In the summer, a heat settles thick upon the meadows until the storms come off the coast and carry away the humid air. And in the fall, as the leaves change and Samhuinn approaches . . .”