Page 18 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Darren nodded. He leaned against the doorway, not quite entering the room, his arms folded as he watched her carefully. "Breana painted it. She wanted ye tae have somethin' that pleased ye in here. She's quite the artist, eh?"

Nessa blinked. Breana? She'd known that her sister liked to draw a little, but she'd never known that she had so much talent.

Overwhelmed, she flopped down to sit on the bed and looked up at Darren. He still stood there, half-in and half-out, watching her without speaking.

At last, she said, "Are ye just gonnae stand there?"

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows in a silly suggestive way. "Why? Did ye have a better idea?"

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Ye could come and sit down. Only sit down."

Darren paused, seeming actually taken aback for a moment by the invitation, then did as she asked. He entered the room and sat down next to her on the bed, leaving a careful amount of space between them.

"Why do ye do that?" she asked.

"Do what? Sit?"

Nessa shook her head. "Nay. Why do ye flirt like that? Ye've been doin' it since the moment we met. It's like ye cannae help yerself but be ridiculous. Like ye never take yerself seriously at all."

Darren tilted his head and examined her face. "Ye're right," he said after a moment. "I never take meself seriously. But that doesnae mean that I'm nae genuine with me compliments and, aye, me flirtations too. I never make a suggestion that I would regret followin' through."

A shiver rippled across Nessa's skin at the implication of his words. He was sitting so close. She wondered what he would do if she moved closer. More of his dangerous games?

"I dinnae flirt," Nessa replied. "And so ye're engagin' with the wrong woman for such fancies. I have nae interest in such banter."

"I think ye do," Darren told her conversationally, leaning back in a relaxed fashion.

"I think ye have interest in many more things than ye allow yerself tae believe.

That's why ye invited me in instead of sendin' me away.

That's why ye smiled so widely when ye saw those books and that paintin'.

" He reached out and, without seemingly a thought, took her hand.

"There's a soul searchin' for joy in there.

I'd love tae see what she can do when she's let free. "

Nessa's pulse thrummed. She did not pull her hand away. "Is that what ye're lookin' for, then, with all of yer teasin'? Joy?"

Darren smirked, and his eyes sparkled. He leaned forward again, sliding so that the space between them closed and their sides pressed together on the bed. She breathed in sharply at the sudden heat between them.

"I'm always lookin' for joy," he told her. "Among other things."

Nessa gulped, trying to wrangle her imagination before it could lose itself in the wildness of his words.

Heat flushed through her skin, and she both wanted to demand that he leave and clench his hand tight so that he had to stay.

Drawing herself together with her most haughty expression, she said, "Then ye are lookin' in the wrong place.

I am Nessa O'Sullivan, the only remainin' recognized daughter of James O'Sullivan, Lady of the O'Sullivan clan, and the betrothed of Ansel Ashkirk.

I have nae joy tae give. When I marry, it will be for duty. That's all."

Darren blinked at her, then laughed. "Is that right?

" he asked. He squeezed her hand. "Well, I am Darren Bruce.

Son of Kier and heir to the Bruce Clan, and, until Cailean and Maeve get around tae havin' bairns of their own, the next in line tae the true throne.

Marryin' for love has never really been a prospect for me either.

Likely I'll wed a woman who'll bring a stronger alliance tae our cause.

I accepted that a long time ago. But…Nessa? "

"What?"

He moved in closer, turning his head so that he could whisper in her ear. His hair tickled her cheek, and she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. He smelled of the forest and summer and fresh hay.

"Who said anythin' about marriage ?" he whispered. "I was talkin' about findin' joy. Wherever we can."

Nessa gasped out loud as something new uncurled deep in her stomach, her whole body flaring to life in a way she'd never known before.

She wanted to turn and catch his lips in hers—to take charge and show her kidnapper what it was to be captured.

She wanted him, in turn, to show her what it was to feel joy.

Just for one mad, shining moment, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself.

Darren pulled back. He was still smiling, but there was an intensity now to his gaze that made Nessa's heart hammer.

"I hope ye find it," he said. "I really do." He leaned over and kissed her cheek before getting to his feet. She raised a shaking hand to where his lips had been. "I'll lock the door, but there's always gonnae be someone nearby. If ye need anythin', just shout, aye?"

"A–aye," she stammered. "Aye, of course."

Darren nodded and headed out of the room. Before he closed the door, though, he paused in the doorway. "Once ye've done it—once ye've let her out and found that joy for yerself—ye'll let me ken, will ye nae?"

"I will," Nessa promised, barely knowing what she was saying.

He smiled and gave her a little wave then left, locking the door behind him.