Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page A

life?"
    He paused a moment, then, "Aye, lass. It is."
    "Then you're a fool."
    He watched her face, alive with a passion he could not understand. "Is there nothing for which ye'd risk yer life, lass?" he asked softly.
    "No."
    "Ye lie."
    Their gazes held a moment longer, but then she turned away. "And you're wrong, Scotsman.There's nothing more valuable than my own skin."
    Her profile looked cameo perfect in the light of the flame. He couldn't help but reach out and touch her cheek. "Mayhap yer right, lass," he murmured. " Tis naught more valuable than your skin."
    She turned slowly back to him. "I meant to me."
    "'Twas my meaning also. Mayhap I would feel that there's nothing more valuable to me than yer skin."
    She swallowed. He watched a blush stain her cheeks. "I 'adn't 'eard that Scots were charming."
    He paused, as surprised as he was flattered. "And I haven't seen a whore blush."
    She turned away.
    The room fell sharply quiet.
    "I suppose ye'd like ta retract yer last opinion of me," he said softly.
    She turned back with a shrug. Her lips, full and bright, were lifted in a small self-deprecating smile, but he wondered if he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, not quite hidden away. "I think most would agree that saving my life was a rather charming thing to do, Scotsman, whether ya call me 'ore or not."
    "Lass..." She seemed very small suddenly. Small and helpless and in need of someone more clever than himself. "'Tis sorry I be."
    "That ya saved me life."
    Roman made a noise of self-disgust and closed his eyes. "Forgive me, I'm na good at this sort of thing."
    "And what sort of thing might that be?"
    "Wooing women."
    Her mouth fell open. She blinked.
    Roman frowned. "'Tis a bad sign that ye couldna even guess what I was attempting ta do."
    She laughed. "Scottie, no one woos a 'ore."
    He found her gaze with his own. 'Then yer na a whore, lass. Because that be exactly what I'm trying ta do."
    "Well..." She sounded breathless and looked the same. "Don't."
    "Why?"
    "Because I..." She shook her head. "I'm ..."
    "Yer a wee, bonny lass," he said. "Soft." He ran a finger gently over her bare shoulder. "And kind, I think, though ye wouldna admit it."
    "I am not kind," she said angrily.
    "I said ye wouldna admit it. How well I know ye already."
    "Ya don't know me at all, Scotsman."
    "Then tell me about yerself, lass."
    She shook her head sharply.
    "And why not?"
    "Because I will not waste my time on a dead man."
    He raised his brows in surprise. "Do I smell that bad then?"
    She snorted. "Make jokes if ya like. But if'n ya dare tangle with Dagger, yer as good as dead."
    He watched her eyes. They were beautiful beyond description. "Ye dunna give me much credit, lass, considering the circumstances."
    "Which are?"
    He shrugged. 'Two of his men are dead. Do ye forget the battle so quickly?"
    "I haven't forgotten," she whispered. "But there are more. Scores of them. Ya can't win. Not if ya challenge 'im straight on."
    "Then how can I win?"
    She opened her mouth then shook her head as if to retract the words. "I didn't say ya could."
    "But what were ye thinking?"
    "Nothing."
    "What do ye know of this Dagger?"
    "I know he kills for pleasure. And he has a ring of thieves that do the same. That's enough."
    "Who is he?"
    "No one knows that," she said. "No one dares even speak his name."
    "Mysteries," Roman said. "Firthport seems full of them. No one knows the Shadow. No one knows Dagger."
    "The Shadow's not real," Betty said, her tone harsh, her brow bruised and furrowed. "But Dagger is. He's as real as he is deadly. Stay away from him. Even if ya got the necklace, even if ya found it, it'd do ya no good, cause 'e wants it, and 'e won't stop till 'e finds it. It'd only get ya killed the sooner. Go home," she whispered. Her words fell into silence. The candle hissed beside her. "Please," she added softly.
    "Ye see," he said, reaching out again to trace his fingers gently down her cheek. "Ye are kind."
    "And you're stupid," she said, angrily