Page 87 of The Scot’s Secret

“I haven’t tasted them yet. But I look forward to doing so.”

His meaning was abundantly clear.

The very thought made her squirm in her seat.

When Emma turned away once again, she braced herself. Sure enough, Alex leaned toward her.

“Aye, love. That is exactly what I meant.”

Clara’s entire body tensed. She could not endure this any longer.

“You’re a devil,” she told him, sincerely.

“To tempt you so? I won’t disagree. But Clara. . . ” He took a bite of roasted duck, chewed it, and sat back, smiling. “You started this.”

So he had seen her.

She’d been in complete control, and somehow she’d allowed him to take it from her.

Clara took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. She concentrated on the retainers finishing their meals and the servants weaving through the packed trestle tables. When she was ready, she leaned toward him once again.

“Aye, I started it, and when you come to me this night, I assure you that I will finish it.”

She was proud of how strong her voice sounded, and a quick glance at his face made her burst out laughing. She just couldn’t hold it in.

The others looked over at them, but Clara couldn’t regain any semblance of decorum. She’d managed to disarm him, and he still had not recovered. He laughed along with her, drawing glances from those in front of them.

“Your mood seems much improved,” Emma observed.

“Indeed,” she answered coyly. What else could she say? That she’d just offered her virginity to a man who was not her husband? And if his expression at this very moment were any indication, he’d be taking her offer this time.

* * *

She had nearly killed him tonight.

He really should open the door. The hallway around Emma’s bedchamber, now occupied by Clara, was isolated. But guards were stationed everywhere, a remnant, Geoffrey had told him, from the days when Sara’s life had been in danger. Alex should not be lingering. . . and yet he was.

Just open the door.

He hesitated, thinking about her words.

“I will finish it.”

He’d enjoyed seeing this saucy side of Clara. Every day she spent out of her Alfred disguise, she became more and more comfortable with herself. For his part, he thought about her every moment when they weren’t together, which was the exact reason he’d stayed away from the meal. Until he could figure out what their future looked like—he certainly couldn't imagine her back in his command as a squire, and she seemed unwilling to consider marriage—he needed to distance himself.

In the end, he hadn’t been strong enough to stay away. Cursing himself, he’d hurriedly prepared for dinner—and then proceeded to do the exact thing he’d told himself he wouldn’t do. When he saw her eating that pear, it had only taken him a moment to realize that his not-so-delicate Englishwoman was actually flirting with him.

Where had she learned to do that?

Being seated next to her hadn’t helped. And then, that comment. He may have deserved it, but the image he’d immediately conjured of her lying naked under him had forced the lightness from their conversation.

They did need to talk, but this was likely not the best time and place for a discussion about their future. Now that his mother had been found, it was time for him to make decisions. He wanted her to be a part of those decisions since her future was also at stake. He hoped.

I’ll talk to her tomorrow.

Almost against his will, his hand pushed the door open.

Damn.