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bosom.
    She looked like a living flame.
    And damn if he didn’t feel a powerful urge to be burned to a crisp.
    Instead, he frowned, ignoring the heat spearing straight to the swelling hardness he was sure she could see.
    Secretly, he now hoped she did.
    He was that angry.
    For truth, he could see the top crescents of her nipples! They were a lovely pink and puckered, peeking up above her bodice’s gold-edged border.
    “I’ll no’ deny you’re lovely, my lady.” He could hardlyspeak. “Though along with erroneous judgment, I suspect your hearing is no’ what it should be. I told you I am no’ the man to fulfill your request.”
    “I did not err in coming here. You are the only man who can help me.”
    “You will easily find another.” Sorley turned his back on her to stare out into the cold, wet night. He didn’t like the way just looking at her did funny things to his chest. Elsewhere, he was setting like granite, curse the lass. “You found your way in here. You can leave by the same door.”
    “I thought you were a man who courts danger.” She joined him at the window. “Was I mistaken? Are you not as daring as everyone says?”
    “I am that and more, sweetness. What I am no’, is a fool. And I’m no’ of a mind to make myself one by tearing that fine gown off of you and initiating you in the pleasures of carnal passion.
    “I’ll leave that honor to a man less wise.” He fixed his gaze on the misty drizzle, the darkly gleaming cobbles of the bailey far below. “There’s nothing you can say to sway me otherwise.”
    “Not even if I told you helping me would enrage John Sinclair?”
    Sorley stiffened, the name chilling his innards. He closed his eyes and took a long breath of the cold, damp air. Lady Mirabelle’s mention of the much-lauded, sneakily treacherous noble struck him like a fist in the ribs.
    Sinclair was his greatest enemy.
    Even if the dastard didn’t know Sorley was aware of his crimes. That one of the innocent young bastard women he’d once raped and tormented had been a lass Sorley loved as strongly as if she’d been his sister. Now she was no more and hadn’t been for many years. The courtier’s twisted pleasures had caused her to drown herself, ending her shame in the cold waters of the River Forth.
    It was a death Sorley meant to avenge.
    He was only waiting for the best opportunity.
    “I see I guessed rightly.” Lady Mirabelle touched his arm. “You do not care for Sir John?”
    “There are some who dinnae admire the man. I am one of them, aye.” Sorley tamped down the revulsion surging through him. He turned to meet Mirabelle’s gaze. “What does he have to do with you?”
    Sorley had a good idea, but wanted to hear the words from her.
    “He’s been making overtures.” She spoke plainly. “Enough so that I believe he intends to ask for my hand. As my father is”—she paused, drew a tight breath—“more accustomed to peering at his precious books than into the character of men, I fear he will accept such an offer. I am determined to avoid his bid at all costs.”
    “So that is the way of it.” Sorley now understood why she wanted to be rid of her virginity. “You are hoping Sinclair will no’ want soiled goods?”
    “I am certain he will not.” She looked up at him from beneath thick, surprisingly dark lashes.
    “There are many ladies at court who welcome his interest.” Sorley wished it wasn’t true. “The King has aye held him in high esteem.”
    “With all respect, the King is a Lowlander. I am Highland born and bred.” She lifted her chin, her pride unmistakable. “With some exceptions”—she blushed, clearly thinking of her scholarly sire—“we are not easily fooled. I also put out discreet enquiries.”
    “Many women wouldn’t have bothered.” Sorley went back to the table, helping himself to another measure of wine. “They see only—”
    “I am not ‘other women.’ I am myself, always.” She followed him across the room,