lip to stifle yet another breathy moan, his cursed cock surged to attention.
Colin had no doubt that she could feel his desire, pressed as it was against her bottom. Her lashes wavered open and she tilted her head up where it still rested on his chest, pinning him with those hazel eyes.
“I…I still do not understand why you are being so kind to me, but I thank you,” she murmured. “You make me feel…” She let the unspoken word slip away with another little shake of her head, as if she were chastising herself for the pleasure she’d clearly taken from his touch.
Even as hot desire coursed through his veins, an icy stab of realization buried itself in Colin’s gut. He’d thought he had already experienced the worst of his base lust for her. But nay, the lass had not yet even fully unleashed her plan. She wasn’t just going to pull at his heartstrings. Her true scheme was to pull a string attached to an organ about two feet below his heart.
The minx was planning to seduce him.
Bloody hell .
Colin’s heart hardened to stone, though he had to repress the urge to smile. Little did Sabine know that Colin would be the last man in all of England or Scotland to fall for the feminine wiles of a beautiful, innocent lass. He’d already learned that lesson the hard way.
What was more, Sabine had clearly not considered the fact that two could play at her little game. He’d been distracted and annoyed at Osborn when she’d first met him. Then after learning that she was a spy, his own anger at the bind he found himself in meant that he hadn’t considered attempting to charm information out of her.
She likely thought him naught more than a warrior, but she’d never been the recipient of his true skill.
Colin slid away from Sabine, though he made a point of letting his hand linger on her, his fingertips brushing across her shoulder blade as he slowly withdrew.
“Come, lass. It is time we break camp and move on.”
“Are we still riding west?”
“Aye.”
He took her good elbow and lifted her to her feet, scooping up the saddle as well before it could tug on her arm. She feigned a little stumble, bumping into him and steadying herself with a small hand on his chest.
If she felt the hammering of his heart beneath his tunic, she might mistake it for passionate longing. In actuality, Colin’s blood pumped at the challenge laid out before him.
Sabine was undeniably skilled. He would have to resist her enticing charms, all the while deploying his own seduction to wheedle answers from her.
Aye, he loved a good challenge, he thought as he wrapped his hands around her narrow waist to steady her.
The game was on.
Chapter Twelve
The day had been warm enough that they’d both discarded their cloaks. Sabine should have been pleased at the loss of the layer of thick wool separating them, for it meant that she could better feel Colin’s desire for her. Instead, her skin itched and felt warm beneath her dress and shift—a warmth that if she were honest with herself was only partly due to the turn in the weather.
She’d never experienced a genuine attraction to one of her marks before. Then again, her marks were never brawny warriors stacked with muscle and oozing lethal grace.
They’d stayed away from roads and villages all day. Colin had murmured something about not being able to trust her to play nicely with others as he’d urged his stallion through the dense woods.
Though she’d assured him that she would not risk an escape attempt again—not until she’d secured the contents of the King’s missive, that was, but she kept that to herself—he’d kept her lashed to the saddle. Even when she needed to stop and seek privacy, he simply unwound the rope from the pommel and left her wrist bound, creating a leash several feet long which he held as she sought a dense shrub.
When at last the sun dipped toward the treetops ahead of them, Colin reined in his steed and dismounted.
“Another night
Colin had no doubt that she could feel his desire, pressed as it was against her bottom. Her lashes wavered open and she tilted her head up where it still rested on his chest, pinning him with those hazel eyes.
“I…I still do not understand why you are being so kind to me, but I thank you,” she murmured. “You make me feel…” She let the unspoken word slip away with another little shake of her head, as if she were chastising herself for the pleasure she’d clearly taken from his touch.
Even as hot desire coursed through his veins, an icy stab of realization buried itself in Colin’s gut. He’d thought he had already experienced the worst of his base lust for her. But nay, the lass had not yet even fully unleashed her plan. She wasn’t just going to pull at his heartstrings. Her true scheme was to pull a string attached to an organ about two feet below his heart.
The minx was planning to seduce him.
Bloody hell .
Colin’s heart hardened to stone, though he had to repress the urge to smile. Little did Sabine know that Colin would be the last man in all of England or Scotland to fall for the feminine wiles of a beautiful, innocent lass. He’d already learned that lesson the hard way.
What was more, Sabine had clearly not considered the fact that two could play at her little game. He’d been distracted and annoyed at Osborn when she’d first met him. Then after learning that she was a spy, his own anger at the bind he found himself in meant that he hadn’t considered attempting to charm information out of her.
She likely thought him naught more than a warrior, but she’d never been the recipient of his true skill.
Colin slid away from Sabine, though he made a point of letting his hand linger on her, his fingertips brushing across her shoulder blade as he slowly withdrew.
“Come, lass. It is time we break camp and move on.”
“Are we still riding west?”
“Aye.”
He took her good elbow and lifted her to her feet, scooping up the saddle as well before it could tug on her arm. She feigned a little stumble, bumping into him and steadying herself with a small hand on his chest.
If she felt the hammering of his heart beneath his tunic, she might mistake it for passionate longing. In actuality, Colin’s blood pumped at the challenge laid out before him.
Sabine was undeniably skilled. He would have to resist her enticing charms, all the while deploying his own seduction to wheedle answers from her.
Aye, he loved a good challenge, he thought as he wrapped his hands around her narrow waist to steady her.
The game was on.
Chapter Twelve
The day had been warm enough that they’d both discarded their cloaks. Sabine should have been pleased at the loss of the layer of thick wool separating them, for it meant that she could better feel Colin’s desire for her. Instead, her skin itched and felt warm beneath her dress and shift—a warmth that if she were honest with herself was only partly due to the turn in the weather.
She’d never experienced a genuine attraction to one of her marks before. Then again, her marks were never brawny warriors stacked with muscle and oozing lethal grace.
They’d stayed away from roads and villages all day. Colin had murmured something about not being able to trust her to play nicely with others as he’d urged his stallion through the dense woods.
Though she’d assured him that she would not risk an escape attempt again—not until she’d secured the contents of the King’s missive, that was, but she kept that to herself—he’d kept her lashed to the saddle. Even when she needed to stop and seek privacy, he simply unwound the rope from the pommel and left her wrist bound, creating a leash several feet long which he held as she sought a dense shrub.
When at last the sun dipped toward the treetops ahead of them, Colin reined in his steed and dismounted.
“Another night
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