Page 81 of The Laird's Masked Passion

She stared at him for the space of one breath. Then the meaning struck, and her lips parted in such mortified fury that Colin nearly forgot every reason he had ever had for self-control.

“Ye are vile.”

“I have been called worse by better liars.”

That silenced her. He moved closer. She did not retreat, though he saw the thought pass through her. Pride nailed her to the floor more securely than any command could have done. Her hands twisted once in the folds of her shawl before she forced them still.

Colin knew he should stop. He knew the honorable course: send her back to bed, tell her the servants’ follies were noneof her concern and pretend he had not seen the way she had looked through that door. But the sight of her standing before him, unsettled not by him but by herself, reached some ruthless tenderness in him.

“What did ye see, Elspeth?”

“Naething.”

He laughed softly.

Her hands tightened. “I saw two servants behaving in a manner that would have them both dismissed if this castle possessed any moral discipline.”

“It possesses a laird who kens better than tae search linen rooms at midnight.”

“Then he ought tae nae prowl corridors like a wolf.”

“I wasnae the one prowling.” He took another step, and this time she did move back, only an inch, but enough that he saw it. “Nor was I the one watching.”

Her breath caught. There it was, not guilt and not merely shame, but arousal, raw and bewildering, betraying her through the pulse at her throat and the softness of her mouth.

Colin’s voice lowered. “Did it frighten ye?”

She looked away. “Nay.”

“Did it disgust ye?”

A longer silence.

“I thought it should,” she whispered.

The answer struck deeper than he expected. All his teasing gentled, though his body did not. It remained painfully aware of every inch of her, the scent of sleep-warmed skin beneath lavender, the loosened fall of her hair, and the fact that she had come to the corridor innocent and returned changed.

“Look at me.”

“I would rather nae.”

“I ken.”

Her eyes flew back to his, affronted. He lifted his hand slowly, giving her time to object, and touched two fingers beneath her chin. She went still at once. He tipped her face upward.

“What did ye feel?”

Her lashes trembled. “I dinnae ken.”

“Ye dae.”

“I dinnae.”

“Elspeth.”

His voice made her shiver. He felt it beneath his fingers.

“It was…” She swallowed. “Strange.”