The Rogue: A Highland Guard Novella (The Highland Guard) Read Online Free PDF Page B

him, and all that was left was a small space beside Randolph that he had probably been saving for Elizabeth.
    With a sigh of inevitability—why wouldn’t the only available seat be next to him?—Izzie waited for him to stand (which with atypical un gallantry took him a few seconds too long) and slid in beside him on the bench. It was a tight squeeze, and she was embarrassingly conscious of the strong, abundantly muscled body pressed against hers. Again. Don’t think of that.
    “I’m afraid my cousin is not joining us tonight,” she explained with a twist of her mouth that told him she had guessed his thoughts. “She decided to retire early.” Her smile deepened. “I would have done the same, but it turns out I’m quite hungry after missing the midday meal.”
    She’d only meant it as a gentle teasing—a way to hopefully prevent any awkwardness over what had happened earlier—but he, of course, seemed to take it the wrong way. He looked either horrified or as if he’d just eaten a bad piece of beef, she couldn’t decide which. In any event, apparently, she’d brought up a subject that wasn’t supposed to be mentioned or alluded to at all. Well, if he wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine by her.
    She felt his impressive shoulders stiffen, which was unfortunate, as it reminded her of how wonderful all those muscles had felt wrapped around her, and made her want to do something silly like put her hands on either side of his neck and knead all the tension from those taut shoulders and arms.
    “I apologize,” he started stiffly.
    But she cut him off. “No apologies are necessary, my lord. I meant nothing by it. Truly, it was not a criticism, a reprimand, or a reminder—just a poor attempt to make a jest.” Her mouth quirked. “I forgot that you do not find my jests amusing.”
    She was rewarded by an easing of the tension in his shoulders and the barest hint of a smile hovering around the edge of his mouth.
    Mouth. Not the thing to think about. If she did, she would remember…
    Her body flushed with heat and she quickly averted her gaze away from the wicked and embarrassingly visceral memories.
    “I do believe they are beginning to grow on me,” he said dryly.
    “Like the plague?”
    “Nay, nothing so deadly. I was thinking more in line of a wart or a mole.”
    She laughed. Dear lord, this was becoming a regular occurrence. Pretty soon, she would have to admit that he actually was amusing. At least when he was like this, dry, blunt, and honest. She doubted there were many women he would say such a thing to.
    “Such flattery, my lord. You do know how to charm a lady. I’ve always dreamed of being compared to a wart.”
    “Or a mole.”
    She laughed again. “Of course, how could I leave that out? Perhaps one day you might compose a chanson about it?”
    “Tempt me enough, and I just might.”
    “Why does it seem as if a gauntlet has just been thrown down?” She smiled mischievously. “How shall I tempt you?”
    It took her a moment to realize what she’d said—and how it might be interpreted. That’s not what she meant. She meant tempt him by annoying him, which is what she seemed to have a talent for doing. But it could also have been meant flirtatiously.
    She wasn’t flirtatious. And she wanted to tell him so, but if the flare of heat in his gaze was any indication, it was too late for that.
    And just like that, the awkwardness and the tension returned full force. But it was a different kind of tension. It was the tension between two people who’d shared intimacy—passion—and were both remembering it.

CHAPTER THREE
    As Randolph couldn’t very well tell her just how tempting he found her, he let the conversation drop. Fortunately, his Aunt Margaret Bruce (the youngest of Bruce’s sisters who was actually ten years younger than Randolph’s nine and twenty—his mother had been considerably older than her half-siblings) was seated on his left, and he spent most of the meal