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showed they were amused by his encounter with her. One or two ignored him, their gazes boldly traveling up and down the length of her. She turned back to Donell, pretending not to have noticed. “You have much work to do. I do no’ wish to intrude, though I would like to speak with you.”
    He inclined his head. “I am honored.”
    Gillian narrowed her eyes at him.
    Honor was the last thing on his mind. She hadn’t been raised in a castle filled with men not to recognize when she was being teased. Or, as with this man before her, being played for a fool.
    “You are honored I wish us to speak?” She lifted a brow of her own. “That is all?”
    “Nae.” He looked amused by her challenge, which only heightened her annoyance.
    “We shall enjoy more than talk.” He squeezed her fingers and smiled again, the intimacy of his tone sliding over her as softly as the whirling mist. “Surely you ken how much I’ve missed you?”
    She didn’t, not at all. “I find that hard to believe.”
    “Then you know little of men.” His gaze slid over her, appreciatively. “You are no’ a maid easily forgotten.”
    Gillian felt heat inching up her neck. She was also aware of her temper rising. Any moment he’d push her into proving why she’d earned her by-name, Spitfire of the Isles. But she didn’t trust herself to speak, not now. How could she when he was looking at her as though he might devour her whole?
    “You have not seen me in five years.” It was the best she could do.
    Just standing so close to him hampered her wits, making it hard to find words. He was simply too big, too bold, and entirely too confident.
    She didn’t care for his swagger.
    “It has been a long time,” she gave him the same argument, the intensity of his gaze unnerving her so much she could think of nothing else.
    “Nae man could gaze upon you and no’ desire you.” He touched her hair, letting his fingers trail lightly over the wind-mussed strands. “Such a man would carry your image with him always, nae matter where he journeyed or how long he was away. He’d yearn for you in his waking hours, suffering the loss of your presence, and he’d dream of you at night, longing for you through the empty darkness.
    “Think you I am different from other men?” He arched a raven brow, held her gaze.
    “I believe some men are gifted with silvered tongues.” She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he seemed to possess such a talent.
    “Indeed?” He again employed his deeply seductive voice, so much smoother and richer than she remembered.
    Worse, as though he’d read her thoughts and wished to bedevil her, he leaned in so close that their faces almost touched. His eyes narrowed on hers, steady and deliberate. His breath flickered across her lips, soft, warm, and intensely disturbing.
    “So you are familiar with men’s tongues?” He arched a brow again, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. “The skills of mine might shock you.”
    “Nothing you do surprises me.” Gillian stood straighter, not about to show how much he unsettled her.
    His words, and their scandalous implication, made her heart beat faster and sent tingly awareness coiling through the lower parts of her belly.
    “Aye, well…” He lifted one of her curls, rubbing the strands between his thumb and forefinger. “For sure, you caught me unawares, being here.”
    “My father is responsible.” She saw no reason to lie.
    She also felt feverish, certain she’d sway any moment if he didn’t step back, giving her air. Already, her heart raced crazily and she heard a strange, high-pitched buzzing in her ears, as if a herd of maddened midges swarmed right behind her head.
    “Then I am in his debt. You were much on my mind, lass.” He shifted his gaze to the sea, where the tide ran strong. The wind was picking up, the cold air full of brine and the scream of gulls, the reek of wet rock and seaweed. It was a heady blend to any Hebridean. Clearly appreciative, he closed