Duncan’s gaze traveled from my face down the length of my body and slowly back up. “’Tis customary, I hear, when a girl sleeps with you.”
“But we didn’t—” His lopsided smirk stopped me midsentence. He was teasing me—at least I thought that’s what he was doing. His light demeanor carried an undercurrent of something more serious that I couldn’t completely define.
“Funny,” I drawled, as Duncan set the tray on the end of the bed. “I was under the impression that if a maiden slept with an ogre, she’d wake up with a prince.”
“And didn’t ye?”
I slowly shook my head. “Sadly, no. Just the same smelly old ogre.”
“Tha’s too bad.” His intoxicating brogue dropped a full octave. “Because I woke up with a vision o’ loveliness.”
The sparkle in his eyes confirmed he’d slain whatever demons he’d been battling the night of the blizzard. Just to be sure, I asked, “So you’re, um, feeling better?”
“Aye. And I owe you an apology for my unconscionable behavior. Please allow me to make it up to you by escorting you to the ball tonight.”
Step, kick, kick, leap, kick touch … Butterflies commenced an impromptu chorus line in my stomach at the thought of spending an entire evening decked out and on Duncan MacCrae’s arm. I’d skipped prom—but didn’t every girl deserve one night to be a princess? While my brain ranted about romantic entanglements and leaving as soon as the bridge opened tonight, my hasty heart ignored common sense and answered, “Okay.”
Duncan’s resulting smile put an end to any lingering objections. He removed the top off the silver tray with a flourish. “This is the other part of my apology. I made it myself in Mag’s kitchen.”
I leaned over the dish of fruit blobs and a plate of unidentifiable brown stuff. “What is it?”
With mock affront, he set the cover down heavily. “Melon balls and crepes. They’re French.”
I stared dubiously at Duncan’s attempted cuisine. “I know what crepes are, but someone forgot to tell that stuff on the plate.”
“You’re a right hilarious lass, Mackenna Reid.” He gave me a playful shove that would’ve knocked me onto my breakfast had I not tensed for it. The playful gleam in his eyes faded into something more responsible as he bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Unfortunately, I canna stay. I’ve much to do before the coronation.”
Disappointment burned through my chest. By tomorrow, I would be gone. Did he really want to waste the time we had left? Feeling reckless, I picked up a piece of melon and slowly slid it into my mouth with a throaty murmur of delight.
Duncan’s gaze riveted to my lips as he eliminated the space between us in two strides.
His large hands settled firmly, yet gently, on my hips. I angled my head to the right in feigned surprise and his tipped left in a hormonally charged game of chicken.
Batting my lashes, I whispered, “Sure I can’t tempt you to stay?”
“Nay.” A muscled ticked in his set jaw as his dark head managed a nearly imperceptible shake.
He was trying to beat me at my own game. But my acting skills gave me an advantage, both in discernment and one-ups-manship. I pressed my palms flat against his chiseled abdomen—low—and had the satisfaction of seeing his nostrils flare as I gave him a light shove. “Then you’d better go, Ogre.”
He overpowered my feeble attempt to repel him as if I were a paper doll. My heart thrummed against his body like an overexcited bird as he closed the gap between us. My eyelids drifted closed, as Duncan … kissed the tip of my nose?
I sensed him straighten up, while I waited idiotically with my eyes shut and my lips puckered. I might as well have worn a neon sign around my neck that said, “Desperate.” My lids snapped opened to find Duncan grinning at me. He appeared quite pleased with himself.