“Ye’ll keep him out of a bitter fix. I know ye will.” Maggie motioned toward the stable. “He’s there. I spotted him through the window. Ye dinnae fear being alone with him, do ye?”
“Of course not,” Johanna said. If only she was completely certain of her words. Not that she feared he’d harm her. No, it was her own primal reaction to the brawny Scot that she needed to keep under tight rein.
“He’s a gentleman at heart. Even if he does scowl like some fearsome beast.” Maggie gave a nod toward the plain building. “I’ll head back to the house now if ye’re sure about going to speak to him.”
“Thank you, Maggie.” Johanna gave a nod of agreement, and Maggie turned and walked briskly toward the house.
Looking toward the stable, Johanna fought the tiny tremors that rippled through her belly, the faintest twinges of hesitation. Could she coax the Highlander’s cooperation without losing her heart?
One of the stable doors closed, moved by unseen hands. Connor filled the remaining space, staring out at her, a mixture of surprise and questions in his eyes. He’d been working, judging from the way his blue cambric work shirt clung to his powerful shoulders, slightly dampened by exertion. He’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Perspiration glistened on his powerful forearms, over the sinew and muscle. A current of anticipation raced through Johanna’s body with a potency that startled her.
“So, Maggie sent ye to talk some sense into me, meddler that she is.” No anger flickered in his penetrating eyes. Rather, a sense of intrigue tinted his irises an even deeper green.
“Yes.” Heaven knew there was no point lying to the man. He’d see through any attempt at deception. At least, he would while his brain was not fogged with desire.
“Verrae well, Johanna. Tell me, what does a sensible American think of all this damnable talk of curses?”
“I believe it is hogwash.” She closed the distance between them, each step measured and deliberate, lest she lose her nerve.
“Hogwash, ye say. Ye’re not one to mince words, lass.”
“I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. Even when it might be to my benefit.”
“And when might that have been?” Tiny crinkles around his eyes deepened with curiosity.
“Surely you’ve taken note that I am still a Miss at an age when I’m considered a spinster. The men I’ve known wanted a docile lady, a woman who understands how to defer to her man in all matters. I’ve never possessed that trait.”
“Those men were fools.”
Peculiar, how his blunt words filled her with a wicked warmth. She stood toe-to-toe with him now. He looked her up and down, settling on her mouth. Something carnal marked that look. She should’ve been offended. But to the contrary, a frisson of excitement washed over her.
Never considered petite, she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. “I cannot say that I disagree. And I’ve never been one to tolerate fools. Nor liars.”
One brow cocked challengingly. “Does that mean ye dinnae consider me a fool?”
“Never a fool. And I am trusting your blunt speech is not intended as camouflage for deception.”
“I haven’t lied to ye. And I dinnae intend to.”
“Good.” She wove her fingers together to still them. “I can only pray your character continues to be strong.”
“I wouldnae go that far.” He riveted her with his gaze. “I’ve done many a thing I’ve not been proud of, but I’ve been truthful with ye.”
My, the man’s gravelly tone generated such heat within her. The barely leashed hunger in his expression spurred her pulse to a gallop.
“I’m counting on you to continue your commitment to honesty.”
“Aye. Now, Johanna, tell me what ye think about the grim legend of the Deamhan’s Cridhe.”
“I believe it is nothing more than a ruse intended to frighten away treasure hunters. Egyptians spun curses to deter grave robbers from pillaging tombs. This is no different.”
“Ye dinnae believe there’s truth to the tale?”
“No.” She dropped her attention to her knotted hands. “I’ve far more to fear than some ancient hex.”
His hand, warm and firm and gentle, cupped her chin and tipped it up. Meeting her eyes, he seemed to look deep inside her, stripping away the armor she had erected around her heart.
“Do ye fear me, Johanna?”
Ah, the sound of her name on his lips, each note colored by the rich Highland burr of his voice. Heat filled her belly, warm and liquid. Treacherous longings infused her, like a slow current through her veins. She pulled in a long draught of air, calming her stuttering pulse, slowing her breaths. Drat it all, such ridiculous stirrings. She must keep her head about her, whatever the cost.
“No.” She spoke the truth. Fright had nothing to do with the tiny tremors coursing through her body.
His eyes narrowed, and he studied her. “Ye’re sure of that.”
“Quite so.” Amazing, how cool the words sounded on her tongue while his nearness kindled warmth throughout her body.