was truly intrigued with him. He knew it from the way her heart beat faster when she met his gaze, and her cheeks reddened whenever he caught her considering his physique. ‘Twas a shame he had to marry an Englishwoman. He doubted any would have the same temper that fired his blood like Anice did.
No, he did not need the aggravation. The lady was best left to a Norman’s care. God save him. So why did this thought force him to clench his fists?
He studied the smile that settled on her lips while she fingered her bird. Should he counter her words?
‘Twas tempting.
He should not allow the lass to get away with saying what she had, knowing full well she spoke not a wee bit of truth.
Angus watched him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It would take the best part of valor to not be goaded into mincing words with the woman concerning whether she was interested in the likes of him or not.
After sipping from his tankard, Malcolm tugged at his fowl. “I was under the impression you did not desire a Norman for a husband.”
“I did not say I wouldna wish a Highland warrior for a husband, Laird MacNeill, but that you did not appeal. You, after all, dinna represent all Highlanders.”
He grinned at her, knowing she didn’t mean a word she said. But he would catch her up in her tale. “Aye. And what kind of a man would you prefer, if you do not mind saying?”
“’Tis not your concern.” She tilted her chin up in the way he was quickly becoming accustomed. Her actions meant she readied for the joust once again, her quick-tempered tongue as sharp and deadly as any lance. The only thing that concerned him was avoiding catching the king’s attention further.
The flecks of golden amber seemed to darken in her green eyes and a trace of a smile touched her lips. For an instant, he wished to press his mouth against hers, to find out how she would react to a Highlander’s kiss—not anyone’s but his—the Highlander she said she had no interest in.
Mayhap on their walk in the gardens later this eve. Then he could tell whether she truly had no feelings for him or not. After all, he’d kissed women before who were as stiff as wooden boards, but if Anice melted under his charms, he would know she spoke not a word of truth.
“Aye, milady, ‘tis true I have nay need to know. But if a gentleman approaches you who you have nay interest in, I would know this already, since you would have told me which men do not appeal. Then I would ensure the gentleman does not bother you further.”
“I see the logic in what you say, now, milaird. ‘Tis most thoughtful of you to offer such assistance. The gentleman in question would have to be...younger, like your brother.”
Malcolm frowned. The woman could not be speaking the truth. ‘Twas him that her eyes devoured, not his younger brother.
She smiled.
His physical reaction had already signaled his defeat in the first round of the joust. “Younger. And the reason for this?” he asked, hoping to have another means of attack to force the truth from the foxy lass.
She raised a brow. “A younger man is quicker to please his lady suitor.”
She had him there. Again, he frowned, though if he’d thought the matter over first, he’d have watched his reaction, otherwise he confirmed the lady won another round.
In the case of his brother, she guessed right. He would do anything to please a lady because of his youth.
“Aye, but there is something to a man who has had more time to learn the finer aspects of what appeals to a woman, do not you agree, milady?”
Her cheeks turned scarlet. Yes, she got his point.
“If you mean an older man has been with...with hoards of women and...and...” She folded her arms.
That did not go over well.
He cleared his throat, trying to think of another point that would pull him out of the deepening trench he’d slipped into. Though he did well in the jousts, he
No, he did not need the aggravation. The lady was best left to a Norman’s care. God save him. So why did this thought force him to clench his fists?
He studied the smile that settled on her lips while she fingered her bird. Should he counter her words?
‘Twas tempting.
He should not allow the lass to get away with saying what she had, knowing full well she spoke not a wee bit of truth.
Angus watched him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It would take the best part of valor to not be goaded into mincing words with the woman concerning whether she was interested in the likes of him or not.
After sipping from his tankard, Malcolm tugged at his fowl. “I was under the impression you did not desire a Norman for a husband.”
“I did not say I wouldna wish a Highland warrior for a husband, Laird MacNeill, but that you did not appeal. You, after all, dinna represent all Highlanders.”
He grinned at her, knowing she didn’t mean a word she said. But he would catch her up in her tale. “Aye. And what kind of a man would you prefer, if you do not mind saying?”
“’Tis not your concern.” She tilted her chin up in the way he was quickly becoming accustomed. Her actions meant she readied for the joust once again, her quick-tempered tongue as sharp and deadly as any lance. The only thing that concerned him was avoiding catching the king’s attention further.
The flecks of golden amber seemed to darken in her green eyes and a trace of a smile touched her lips. For an instant, he wished to press his mouth against hers, to find out how she would react to a Highlander’s kiss—not anyone’s but his—the Highlander she said she had no interest in.
Mayhap on their walk in the gardens later this eve. Then he could tell whether she truly had no feelings for him or not. After all, he’d kissed women before who were as stiff as wooden boards, but if Anice melted under his charms, he would know she spoke not a word of truth.
“Aye, milady, ‘tis true I have nay need to know. But if a gentleman approaches you who you have nay interest in, I would know this already, since you would have told me which men do not appeal. Then I would ensure the gentleman does not bother you further.”
“I see the logic in what you say, now, milaird. ‘Tis most thoughtful of you to offer such assistance. The gentleman in question would have to be...younger, like your brother.”
Malcolm frowned. The woman could not be speaking the truth. ‘Twas him that her eyes devoured, not his younger brother.
She smiled.
His physical reaction had already signaled his defeat in the first round of the joust. “Younger. And the reason for this?” he asked, hoping to have another means of attack to force the truth from the foxy lass.
She raised a brow. “A younger man is quicker to please his lady suitor.”
She had him there. Again, he frowned, though if he’d thought the matter over first, he’d have watched his reaction, otherwise he confirmed the lady won another round.
In the case of his brother, she guessed right. He would do anything to please a lady because of his youth.
“Aye, but there is something to a man who has had more time to learn the finer aspects of what appeals to a woman, do not you agree, milady?”
Her cheeks turned scarlet. Yes, she got his point.
“If you mean an older man has been with...with hoards of women and...and...” She folded her arms.
That did not go over well.
He cleared his throat, trying to think of another point that would pull him out of the deepening trench he’d slipped into. Though he did well in the jousts, he
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