But the memory of last night conflicted with her temper. There had been true effort applied to courting her, something that many a bride never received, especially in a time when two queens of England had lost their heads. Men followed their king’s example, doing what they pleased no matter what misery their actions loaded onto a woman’s shoulders.

Gordon hadn’t treated her that way last night. The memory was precious, and she discovered desperation inside her to reach for it and pray that it was a glimmer of hope that would grow into a bright future.

The chamber where she had slept was the only place Jemma’s wounded mind thought to take her. She really had no right to think that her brother would consult her on the matter of her marriage, or to believe that he would waste any more time deciding the matter. She would not be the first sister handed over without warning. Her agreement to meet with Barras had been more than enough discussion upon the topic.

“Does it truly displease ye so much to think of remaining with me, lass?”

Jemma jumped and stumbled when she turned. Her ankle complained as it twisted slightly, making her hop to relieve the odd angle she’d landed on. She growled and clenched her hands into fists because her frustration was so great.

“Why ask me? Neither Curan nor you seem to think my feelings on anything matter in the least.”

Relief shone on his face, and she felt some of her temper cooling. She couldn’t see what had troubled him so much, but something clearly had. Her heart leaped at the chance to think it might be her feelings. It had been a very long time since she had stopped to consider how she felt. Every hour had been about her father for so long, what he wanted, needed, and how she might give him enough of herself to heal him.

“Marriage is normally negotiated between men, lass, but I was hoping to change yer mind last night and get ye to want to stay here so that we might court a bit.”

Jemma felt suspicion ripple through her mind because Gordon’s face was smooth and calm, telling her nothing about his mood.

“I appreciated the effort you placed into last night, but keeping me here is not courting.”

His lips split to flash his teeth at her. “Well now, I disagree with ye there, lass. Name me another man that would have dealt with ye instead of yer brother.”

He was correct and she hated it. Helplessness assaulted her, and she shook her head to deny it. “I suppose you think your grand experience in ‘riding’ has taught you how to court, but I must quibble with you, sir, for ‘riding’ often is not the same thing as courting.”

“Oh, well I see yer thinking, lass. Ye’re looking for pretty prose. Allow me to quote ye a few that I know . . . I once took a walk on a dock, Looking for to ease me cock—”

“That is the wrong sort of prose for courting.” Heat returned to her cheeks because she instantly began thinking about his cock.

His lips were curled up in a mocking smile now, and it had spread to eyes sparkling with mischief. One of his dark eyebrows rose innocently.

“It is? Would that be the dock part or the—”

“Both,” Jemma shouted, to drown out the word “cock.” She didn’t need to think about his cock. Knowing what his kiss was like was torment enough for her to try to resist. But his cock . . . The excitement that had swirled and flared so brightly in her leaped in response to that single word. She suddenly knew exactly what she craved. It wasn’t her belly, but her passage, and it felt empty.

“Well now, lass, it does tend to cut the courting time down and get right to the point of the matter.”

Jemma felt her cheeks burn bright with a blush. “You are the most audacious man. Go and find your mistress if you want to talk about your . . .”

“Me cock?”

“Exactly.” Jemma slapped her hands on her skirts and turned her back on him. She knew it was a mistake almost before the fabric of her skirts stopped moving. Gordon was not a man who would respect her dismissal of him. His arms closed around her in the next moment before she had the chance to correct her misjudgment. He pulled her against his larger body, trapping her arms against her sides just as he had last night, only now she knew how much she enjoyed being held against him and her body rippled with delight.

“Now, sweet Jemma, where did ye get the notion that I’d tuck me tail and retreat just because ye turned yer back on me?”

He tilted his head, the warmth of his breath brushing the side of her face as his words filled her ears. His tone was low and dark, tempting her with all the things her body craved. The moment seemed perfect for it, and no one appeared to think she should do anything but surrender.

“It was a poor choice, I agree.” She jerked against his hold, only to gain a chuckle from him. His arms were crossed over the front of her, and his hands began to rub along her arms. It was a delightful motion, one that sent enjoyment racing through her.

“I don’t. ’Tis a fact that I like the result full well.”

He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck and then a second one. A soft gasp escaped her lips, drawing a sound of male approval from him. She was pressed so close that she felt the sound vibrate inside his chest.

“I simply forgot that you do not respect me.” Jemma forced her voice to sound prim when her thoughts were torrid.

He lifted his head away from her neck, and she felt frustration claw its way across her skin. Her body protested her desire to argue with him when submission felt so much better.

“Ye have that wrong, lass.” He scooped her up and off her feet, cradling her against his chest for a moment while he crossed the distance to the bed. She stiffened when she realized that was his destination, but he tossed her onto it once more and stood over her while she bounced.

“If I held no respect for ye, I assure ye the kiss I claimed from ye last night would have gone much deeper. But I can see that ye are still distrusting of me.”

“Of course I am, why do you expect different? I am not some meek little girl who will do as she is told with a lowering of my head. If that is what you crave, I am not it.”

When she raised her head to glare at him, she felt a prickle of fear cross her mind. Her words were not annoying him. It looked as though he was hearing exactly what he craved. This was the man she had witnessed striding through the hall that morning. There was nothing teasing about his expression and no hint of any will except his own. His eyes were lit with anticipation.

“I do admire yer spirit, Jemma, and that is a compliment that I do nae give to many men, much less women. ’Tis a fact that I believe ye would have mounted that mare and set out without bending to the fact that danger lies beyond the walls of this castle. There is much to be said for that courage. ’Tis no often found in women and it is one of the reasons that I rode out and gained that permission from yer brother to keep ye.”

“Your compliments are not gaining you any of my favor.”

He chuckled, but it was not a warm sound. Instead it warned her that he was contemplating a new strategy for gaining what he wanted from her. There was a challenge shimmering in his eyes, and her insides tightened because she realized that he considered her something worthy of his time.

“I believe ye do like hearing that I admire the steel in yer spine, lass.” His lips pressed into a line that reminded her of the hunger she’d witnessed on his face last night.

“I think there is a part of ye that enjoys it very much, because that part of ye is no interested in any man that ye can run off with a few barbed comments. Admit it, Jemma, ye are too proud to allow anyone to court ye who does not stand up to ye.”

She quivered, his words striking her as true, but she pressed her lips together to seal any hint of that admission inside her.

Gordon blew out a short breath in response. It was a tiny sound, but one she had to hold steady to resist flinching from. All her senses were attuned to him. She noticed the way that his nostrils flared and the manner in which his fingers moved where they were lying on his thick biceps. Her heart increased its pace, and her hearing seemed to become keener. Everything about him, her mind drank in.

His gaze swept her from head to toe, studying her and missing not a single detail. “So something will have to be done to keep ye where I put ye during the day, because I’ve lands to see to and I’d prefer no to chase ye or to worry that ye are in the grip of danger again.”

“You have already told me that my brother approves of me being here. That means I have nowhere to go.” She couldn’t conceal the emotion that edged her words, and that made her angry for she would not whine to him for comfort. She refused to whine to anyone. She would console herself; she’d been doing so for the past few years and now would be no different.

His eyes narrowed. “I never meant to hurt yer feelings, lass, and be sure that yer brother was nae an easy man to bring around to my way of thinking. I hear the hurt in yer voice, but I’ll nae be trusting that to keep ye down past the morning. Ye have too much spirit.”

His attention lowered to one foot that was sticking out past the hem of her dress. “I’ll be having those boots.”

“You will not.”

His eyebrows arched as challenge lit his eyes again. “Well now, lass, are ye sure ye want to make another choice about gambling on whether or not I’ll do what I please in spite of yer denial?”

Jemma pulled her leg back but felt every muscle tighten in her body. Her courage rose, refusing to allow her to submit.

“You shall simply have to deal with a little uncertainty, just as I seem to be forced to endure this agreement between you and my brother.”