“He wants the book. Nothing more.”
“There’s always more.” Connor closed the small distance between them, cradling his palm against her cheek. “He’s a man with a taste for beautiful things. That includes women, Johanna.”
Hearing Connor MacMasters describe her as beautiful was a sweet temptation, but she could not allow herself to be drawn in. She squared her shoulders and cocked her chin. “The idea that Geoffrey Cranston would engineer this scheme to get his hands on me is preposterous.”
“He would not go to such lengths to get a woman under his control, unless a hefty ransom was in his sights. But he knows more about you than you believe. Cranston wants ye there for a reason. And you can be sure negotiation is nae in his plans.”
He pinned her with that intense gaze, dark and forbidding as the Highlands at midnight. This time, when he reached for her, she did not pull away. Rather, she stilled, drinking in the feel of his fingers against her ungloved hand.
He drew her closer. A breath hovered in her lungs. She released it, then gulped in another.
Think, Johanna. You must find out what he knows. You must use that information.
“This is most improper,” she said finally, dropping her voice to a throaty tone. Despite her statement, she made no move to release herself from his touch.
“I know.” His soft burr stroked her ears like velvet. As he dipped his head, his lips brushed hers. “Nothing between us has ever been proper, Miss Templeton.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor’s warm breath blended with hers. He was going to kiss her. Thoroughly. Decadently. Maddeningly.
She wouldn’t stop him. After all, if he desired her, he would be more malleable, more easily led to reveal what she needed to know. Spies throughout history had pried secrets out of the mouths of men while in the heat of passion.
Or so Johanna told herself. Of course, that did not ease the pounding of her heart and the anticipation flooding her veins. The heat low in her belly had nothing to do with securing his cooperation. No, her mouth had gone dry at the mere thought of his touch. Her yearning for him seemed an insanity, a madness she could neither explain nor deny.
It simply wasn’t possible. She couldn’t want this man.
Pity she was such a poor liar. She couldn’t even fool herself.
Pushing herself up to her tiptoes, she brushed her lips to his, the sweetest, most fleeting of caresses. My heavens, the slightest whisper-touch of this man’s flesh to hers was delicious.
He coiled an arm around her, his big hand splaying against her back. Heat infused her, stirring hungers she wondered if she’d ever be able to fully sate.
“You’re the kind of woman who catches a man’s interest and doesn’t let go.” A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Ye intrigue me, Johanna. But I know what ye’re up to, lass. I might be a lot of things, but a fool is not one of them.”
“A fool?” Had the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her? Perhaps he would not notice the tiny waver of her tone.
Still holding her at arm’s length, he stepped back. Cocking his head, he studied her for the span of several thudding heartbeats. “Ye want the map and the book—do ye think ye’re the first bonny lass to use her pretty face to try and get what she wanted?”
Devil take it, the arrogant Scot had seen right through her. Well, perhaps not entirely. If he’d seen the whole truth, he would’ve realized she craved his kiss as a child craves a Christmas sweet.
She jutted out her chin, hoping to mirror the arrogant gleam in his eyes. “Might I remind you that you kissed me.”
He watched her for a long, silent moment, offering his denial with a slow shake of his head. “Ye think that was a kiss, do ye?”
“Of course. What else could it have been?” Oh, this man was born to infuriate her.
“That was no kiss.”
“Your lips touched mine.” She met his warm green gaze. “By definition, that is a kiss.”
“Nay, lass. That was not a kiss.” Connor pulled her close, then released her. Peering down at her, he cupped her face in his hands. “But this…this is a kiss.”
He ducked his head, claiming her with the fervent touch of his mouth. Gentle yet fierce. Tender yet demanding. His tongue slipped between her lips, boldly coaxing her response, kindling the embers of heat from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. His large frame leaned into her, sturdy and strong and so very warm. As if with a will of their own, Johanna’s arms slid around him, pulling him closer.
She drank in his power and his touch and his scent. Her breasts pressed to the hardness of his chest, and she molded her body to his. What a glorious feeling this was, being so near to him that she could feel the rise and fall of his every breath.
Taut, steely muscle rippled beneath her fingertips. His arousal pulsed against the soft cradle of her thighs. Such a delectable madness, this longing. Never had she craved a man—any man—as she did Connor.