“But they’re not. Considering the clan wars in the past, it was important to show which family you belonged to. We’re proud of our origins.”
“That fits you. Pride. You look like a warrior even in a suit, my duke.”
“I’m Scottish in every sense of the word. A true Highlander,” he jokes, and I decide to remember this rare moment of good humor forever.
“I’d love to go to a traditional festival. What would I wear?”
“My colors,” he says, as if that’s obvious, and warmth blooms inside me.
“Any chance you’ll take me to one?”
He looks at me again. “In a few months, there will probably be a celebration.”
“For what?”
“A . . .commitment I have.”
He stays silent the rest of the drive, but when we arrive, he tells me not to get out because he’ll help me.
He’s full of contradictions: so blunt he borders on rude, but a gentleman in everything else that matters.
He opens the door, and again that silly feeling of being on a date makes me smile like an idiot. Here with Rodrick, in his homeland, I can pretend I didn’t make a fool of myself yesterday.
I trip getting out of the car, and to avoid falling, I grab onto him. He doesn’t hesitate to hold me. When I look up, he’s staring at me in a way that makes my knees weaken.
I can feel the warmth of his breath, smell the scent of his aftershave. The solid weight of his body against mine makes me tremble.
“Don’t let go yet,” I whisper, though I don’t fully understand why.
“Jazmina . . .”
“I just want to feel what it’s like to be in your arms.” My brain clearly evaporates around him. I’m pure jelly.
“It’s dangerous,” he says.
Embarrassed, I try stepping back. I must look desperate and needy.
But when I try to pull away, he tightens his arms around me, pulling me even closer. He lowers his face, and I sense, more than feel, his mouth at my neck. I shiver, my hands clutching his forearms. My body, acting on its own, molds to his.
Rodrick makes a deep, rough sound, a sort of growl that makes me moan back. One hand grips the small of my back, and the other cradles my face.
His thumb strokes my cheek in a hypnotic caress.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“But do you want to?”
Instead of answering, he bites my chin.
“Ahhhh . . .”
“You can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Moan like that. Drives me insane. I’m not the right man for you, princess.”