His head tilted. A smile teased the corners of his gorgeous mouth. “I’ve a good mind for faces, particularly on beautiful women, but I dinna seem to recollect yours.”
“Don’t be cute.” That smile sent freshets of pleasurable heat dancing over her skin, heat she hadn't felt in years. She reminded herself he did have a good mind for faces–as long as they had blond hair, big boobs and long Barbie-doll legs. She had the boobs but not the hair or the ridiculously long legs. And she didn’t have the patience to deal with this nonsense. “Answer the question. What are you doing here?”
“Aside from running you down? I’m on my way to Seagate, lass. May I introduce myself–Devyn MacGregor at yer service.” Leg extended, he swept a courtly bow. “And might I ask what you are doing here? Alone and unprotected?”
She cocked her eyebrow. “What’s there to be protected from?” Then added, skeptically, “You?”
“Nae, lass. I’m harmless as a wean.” He smiled again.
She didn’t know what a wean was and didn’t care. Her mind felt clouded, foggy but an uneasy prickle skated up her spine and she couldn’t pinpoint what caused it. Unless it was Devyn. She took a step back.
“Dinna be scairt, lass. I willna harm you.”
Scairt? He meant scared, she realized, and she was, but she didn’t like letting him know it. She inhaled, deeply, through her nose, and caught the scent of spice and...and something so intrinsically male it could be bottled and sold for hundreds of dollars. She fought the sudden urge to run her hands over the rich blue of his coat, to feel the solid body underneath. No way was she going down that road again. She stuffed her hands in her wet pockets, then hastily pulled them out and sneered. “Riighht. Okay, fess up. What kind of game is this?”“Game?” His gaze settled on her mouth. Intently. A do-you-wanna-have-fun smile curved his lips. “What did you have in mind?”
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