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boldly. “Or will ye turn yer nose up no matter who is depending upon ye to do yer duty? Like a spoiled child who knows naught of the way alliances keep a clan safe?”
    His eyes narrowed. For a moment, it looked like he was considering what she said, almost as if she’d surprised him somehow.
    “Nae if me duty includes making sure me kin can start a feud.”
    “I have no such desire.” She shouldn’t snap at him but just couldn’t squelch the urge. “A contented man”—she had to stop to swallow the lump lodged in her throat—“is happy to stay at home.”
    He studied her for a long moment, one that felt far longer than it really could have been. She felt like he was looking at her thoughts, his gaze cutting past her realistic reasons, to see her true feelings.
    “So what is it that draws ye to a man old enough to be yer grandfather? The title? I suppose I can believe that. Yer sister was certainly enchanted by titles.”
    “Half sister.” She paused, realizing that what Bari had so often used to insult her was something she prided herself on.
    “And I’m bastard-born,” he replied softly. “Which changes nothing when it comes to me loyalties. Or, I doubt, yers.”
    He was trying to intimidate her, but instead, his words somehow impressed her. There was something in his dark eyes that intrigued her, and she stared into the dark orbs, trying to decipher it.
    He snorted at her. “Do nae try it.”
    “Try what?”
    He crossed his arms over his chest, and she suddenly realized just how close he was. There was no more than a pace between them now, and she jumped back, colliding with the hard stone of the wall. His lips twitched.
    “I admit, ye play the innocent better than Sandra ever did, but ye’ll nae find it simple to seduce me.”
    She straightened up, stepping away from the wall as her temper simmered. “Ye have no right to accuse me of nae being innocent. Or of trying to act like a harlot. Ye were the one waiting in the shadows.”
    His lips parted to flash his teeth at her. “I knew ye had claws. Ye are a Fraser after all.”
    There was a ring of triumph in his tone, which irritated her beyond every bit of self-discipline she had.
    “What I have is the sense to know when I’m hearing naught but drivel. Son of an earl or nae, ye do nae have the right to insult me for obeying me laird. I do nae need the Matheson thinking I turned up me nose at their laird. Marriage is for forming alliances. I’m nae so selfish as to think an insult to a laird, like refusing his offer, will nae become a festering point of contention.”
    But her voice lowered as she finished, and she had to push the last sentence past her lips because she just didn’t want to believe she was one day away from having to wed Achaius Matheson.
    “And I was nae trying to seduce ye,” she added.
    His grin remained arrogant and large, but he opened his arms, offering her a view of just how wide his chest was. “Ye were looking into me eyes.”
    “And ye were looking into mine,” she countered. He was suddenly too large and the hallway far too compact to suit her. “Enough arrogance. Perhaps ye are accustomed to only the sort of women who like to seduce, but I am nae of that sort. I’m set to wed, and I do nae think it wise to be standing here acting like—”
    “Like lovers flirting in the night shadows?”
    His voice dipped low and sent a tingle along her limbs. There was a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.
    She shook her head, her tongue feeling frozen with shock.
    “Nay, we are nae acting like lovers, or are ye arguing that we are nae lovers—yet?” He pressed forward another few inches.
    Something snapped inside her. She gasped and went to shove him away from her.
    “Ye obnoxious lout!”
    She flattened her hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She’d used a fair amount of strength, but Gahan Sutherland only chuckled at her attempt to move him.
    “Ye have no right to accuse me of such indecent things.