Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

commenced. 
    “Dance with me, Lindsay.”  It
wasn’t a question. 
    She shook her head, trying to
capture her wits more than refuse him outright.  Her name sounded like a sin on
his tongue and a traitorous part of her wanted to do anything he commanded as
long as he said her name like that.
    “Ye doona have to talk with me, ye
can even stay angry with me if ye like.  But I can see ye’ve been aching to
dance.”
    Was she so transparent?  Had the
men who’d avoided her company this night sensed the desperation from her and
been repelled? 
    “Besides.”  He closed the gap
between them and pressed against her.  Their breaths sped in tandem and she
felt as though she could hear her heart beat in her ears.  Or was it his?  “Our
bodies seem to communicate better than our mouths.”
    He was right.  About all of it. 
But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him so.  Instead, she put her hand in
his and followed him to the floor.  The crowd made ample space for them, and
they faced each other while the musician began the reel. 
    Connor bowed to her and she forced
herself to return the favor.  She’d be damned before showing him any fealty,
but the dance dictated it, so she acquiesced.  The intricate steps took much of
her concentration and Lindsay was grateful she could focus on them instead of
the dangerous currents jolting her wherever their skin touched.
    “My colors look good on ye,
Lindsay.”  The possessive authority in his voice piqued her simmering temper.  She
looked up at him sharply.  He really must desist saying her name as though it
were a provocative word.  It was merely a name , an ordinary one at that,
and it passed from his lips like a delicious profanity.
    The dance circled them away from
each other to momentarily trade partners.  The bearded man in front of her took
her hands in a hesitant grip but refused to meet her eyes as he spun her.  In
fact, he cast anxious glances at his Laird until he could hand her back to him,
shoulders sagging in relief. 
    Lindsay frowned.  “You say that as
if one could declare dominion over a color, my lord.”  If anyone would be
foolhardy enough to try, it would be the warrior in front of her. 
    “’Twould be easier to claim than
ye’ve been, lass,” he said with a teasing smile. 
    Despite her ire, Lindsay’s heart stopped. 
Momentarily fascinated by the uncharacteristically boyish dimple in his left
cheek, she didn’t notice how closely he’d moved until their bodies almost melded. 
    “A clever man would have given up
by now,” she pointed out, a bit more winded than she would have liked. 
    His large hands spanned her waist
and she found herself breathless for the second time that night as he lifted
her in a spin.  She had to admit it delighted her to be lifted higher and more
effortlessly than the other women.  Locked in his grip, she felt absolutely
stable.  There was no danger of him dropping her— or letting her go. 
    “Well,” he said as he deliberately
slid her down his hard, warm body.  “I’ve always been attributed with a great
deal more brawn than brains.”
    Lindsay found herself smiling at
that, and she reveled in the answering glimmer in his eyes.  She supposed she
could relate.  He had a strange way of stoking her temper, then disarming her
in a way that left her completely bewildered and off balance.  The longer she
remained in his arms, the less capable she felt of making rational decisions. 
It seemed she could dissolve into an absolutely primitive creature, unaware of
reason or consequences.  A creature of pure physical instinct, only
concentrating on fulfilling the next primal need.     
    “Besides,” his voice deepened.  “I
canna let you go.  Not ever.  Not only because of what I am, but because of who ye are.”
    “What do you mean?” she asked,
suddenly catapulted out of her body and firmly back into her mind.  Did he only
want her because she was a Ross?  Had his aim been political all this time? 
Damn but she was tired of being pursued because of who her father had been and
who her uncle was now.  As Regent of Scotland, they’d have the ear of the
King.  Who wouldn’t want those connections?
    Connor was silent for a long time. 
Say what he might, nothing but sharp intellect shone behind those clear green
eyes, and he was calculating something.  The worth of her dowry, perhaps?  He
seemed to come to a decision, his eyes hardening with resolve. 
    “Because,