He paused, rolling back to her, not so much struck with sympathy for her plight as he was intrigued with just how much she was willing to risk in the name of family honor.
“Please!” she whispered again.
He sighed. “Get out, girl. I’ll be along.”
“You’ll tell no one?”
“I know of no other fool awake at this hour.”
She spun around, her grace, youth, and beauty highlighted by the crimson firelight. She hurried silently back to the window. He watched her, wondering how many times through the years his ancestors had welcomed their lovers so, for to those who knew the way, an enclosure along the balcony wall led to a secret stairway that ran below the rock and the wall to the forest that lay southward of the castle. It was said the Bonnie Prince Charlie once escaped his would-be captors by way of Castle Rock. Shawna knew of it, he realized, because he had once teasingly invited her to his chambers by way of it.
Well, she had come now.
He rose and found his velvet robe hanging on the hook by the door and wrapped himself in it and nothing more. If she’d come half-naked to his room, he wasn’t going to dress formally for an assignation out in the stables. Did she mean to beg and plead and seduce his mercy? She’d have done better, he determined somewhat angrily, to come to him honestly and ask that he drop the charges against her cousin. But then, if she was convinced that she was so powerful—let her have her way. When she was done, he’d tell her that he’d never intended to bring the law against young Alistair.
The stables to which she had referred lay beyond the castle walls. The structure was large and long with a roof made of thatch. At one end was a room where the stable master had slept in ancient times. A wooden bunk remained at the right rear corner of the room, hay was stored to the left, and a desk with ledgers took up most of the space.
The light of a small lantern created a ghostly dance along the walls, ceiling, and floor as he entered, and even against the silky fabric of her all-but-sheer nightdress. She awaited him by the desk. He could see she’d planned the tryst. A silver tray with two goblets of wine sat by her side. She offered him one. He took it, then waited, not offering her a word of encouragement.
“It’s very good wine,” she said. He thought she seemed angry yet also determined not to betray her true feelings—or her cause.
He nodded. “Get to it, girl. What is it you want? Why have you awakened me in the middle of the night?”
“You know why. You mustn’t prosecute Alistair.”
“Why not? He’s a thieving young rascal who needs a good lesson.”
She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. He was touched by the inner struggle she seemed to be experiencing. If he weren’t so irritated with this pretense of hers, he’d be tempted to take her tenderly in his arms and whisper assurances to her.
Because she was an extremely beautiful woman. Shawna was pure fire, inside and outside, a fascinating tempest. As reckless as young Alistair, but fiercely proud of being a MacGinnis, loyal to her family—softening only in her love of children and helpless little animals. It was dangerous to give to Shawna. She saw too clearly her own power in all that she might hold.
She set her wineglass down upon the desk and pressed his glass to his lips, urging him to drink. He swallowed several sips of the wine. It was a fruity, rich wine, odd-tasting, and not much to his liking, and not from his own cellars, he was certain. Had they scoured the wine cellars of Castle MacGinnis, looking for this particular quite potent burgundy?
If she was trying to get him drunk on wine, she had quite a task ahead of her. How intriguing. Men were supposed to seduce sweet young damsels by plying them with an intoxicating beverage. Maybe she was trying to dull her own senses. She herself was drinking the wine as if it were water. Her eyes were on his. They fell. She reached for his glass, and he allowed her to set it beside her own. She brought her hands to his face, cupping it. Then her palms fell to the V of his robe, her fingers teasing his flesh before her hands pressed flat against it.
He’d known for a long time that she was beautiful. And desirable.
He’d never imagined what such an intimate touch could do to him. Heat raked him. Muscles spasmed within him. By sheer will alone he kept her from realizing the extent of the tremors she had sent racing through him. Yet, if she stood any closer…
“You mustn’t prosecute Alistair.”
“Why mustn’t I prosecute him?”
“Because he is young and foolish,” she whispered.
“That’s all?” he asked harshly. “I mustn’t prosecute him? What have I to gain for my magnanimity?”
“I’ve asked you here so that we can discuss it,” she reminded him.
A nasty possibility having dawned on him, he reached behind her, switching wineglasses as he handed one to her and kept one himself.
“I see. We’re making a trade. I give you something, you give me something. A bargain—sealed in wine.”
“Must you be so hateful?”
“Must you be so ridiculously hypocritical? You came half-naked to my room. You want to bargain. Bargain,” he told her, taking a sip of wine.
“Bastard!” she hissed beneath her breath, then realized he heard her. He watched as she quickly lifted her wineglass to her lips, taking a sip.