He turned around instead. She started backing away from him, thinking only to put a little distance between them, but then she felt herself slipping on the wet slope. She would have fallen flat on her face or plunged back into the water, but Connor saved her from disgracing herself by pulling her back to safety.
If he hadn't looked so disgruntled, she would have thanked him for his assistance.
She pulled her gown tight over her breasts and frowned with disapproval.
"I want you to understand you have nothing to fear from me. My duty is to take care of you, not harm you."
"I don't fear you."
"You just backed away from me," he reminded her dryly. "You were obviously frightened a minute ago."
She shook her head. The ribbon holding her hair up in a lopsided knot near the top of her crown flew into the water, and the thick mass of curls dropped down around her shoulders.
Looking at her in such a disheveled state gave him a sudden rush of pleasure. She was the most provocative creature he'd ever met. A man could get lost in the magic of those big blue eyes of hers and forget all about his duties while he paused to admire the sensual grace in the way she moved.
What the hell was wrong with him? Brenna wasn't casting a spell on him, yet he was acting as though she were. He quickly became irritated. He wasn't about to let her rob him of his discipline, and damn, but she was a bother.
And a temptress. All he wanted to think about was kissing her frown away and making hard, hot love to her.
She would probably die of fright if she had any idea of his thoughts. She couldn't possibly know how alluring she was, or how his body was reacting to her near nakedness. She wouldn't be frowning up at him with such indignation if she realized how close she was to being tossed onto the nearest blanket.
"Stop shaking your head at me," he ordered in a gruff voice.
"I was merely letting you know, most emphatically, that I wasn't frightened. It's just that I didn't expect you to turn around, and I was surprised. Your manners do give me grave concerns."
He smiled. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Manners aren't important to you?"
"No."
"No? But you should think they're important."
"Why?"
"Why?" she repeated. Her mind went blank. Heaven help her, she couldn't come up with a single reason. The way Connor was looking at her, with such warmth and tenderness in his eyes, made her forget even what they'd been talking about.
She took a step closer to him. "You are a very confusing man," she whispered. "But if I am to keep my sanity, I guess I'll have to try to understand you. You'd better be worth the bother, Connor."
Almost as an afterthought, she said, "You may let go of me now."
He didn't feel like letting go of her, and because he was accustomed to doing exactly what he wanted to do, he ignored her wishes. Her soft skin, as smooth as an angel's and the color of pale gold in the moonlight, felt good against his rough, callused hands.
How had this treasure eluded other men?
"Haven't you ever been courted by other men?"
"I was betrothed to a baron, but he died before I was old enough to marry him. I never actually met the man, or many others for that matter. Father wouldn't allow any men around his daughters, especially Rachel," she explained. "She's the pretty one."
"Did the baron to whom you were pledged die in battle?"
"In bed."
"He died in bed?"
"It was tragic," she snapped. "Not amusing."
"Only an Englishman would die in his bed."
She thought his opinion too ignorant to argue about. "Will you stop squeezing my arms now?"
He lessened his hold. "Are you still feeling embarrassed?"
"Just a little."
"I don't want you to be embarrassed at all. You will stop it now."
She started to laugh before she realized he was perfectly serious. "Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?"
She didn't wait for him to answer her. "I'm getting cold again. If you'll let go of me, I'll finish getting dressed."
"There isn't any need to dress. We're going to bed."
It wasn't what he said, but how he said it that made her panic.
He reeked with authority and looked as tense as a warrior about to go in for the kill.
She deliberately tried to misunderstand. "Together?"
"Of course."
"Now? You want to go to bed now?"
He really was beginning to hate that word. "Yes, now."
"I'd rather not."
"I'd rather so."
"You might as well know I'm dreading it, Connor. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I must be honest with you. Surely you don't want to force your attentions on an unwilling… Now what are you doing?"
"Putting the MacAlister plaid around you. Will you stop backing away from me every time I reach for you? It's damned irritating. Lift your hair out of my way."
"I'd rather you left me alone."
"You're trying my patience."
Why wouldn't he understand? She tried once again to get through to him.
"Connor, I don't have any experience."
She was sure she didn't need to explain in more detail. Surely he could hear the worry in her voice, see it in her eyes, and feel it in the way she trembled. Any decent, caring man would immediately try to soothe her.
"I do."
"That's it?" she cried out. "I'm supposed to be comforted because you have experience?"
"You want me to comfort you?" He sounded appalled by the very idea.
His reaction didn't sit well with her. Her frustration mounted until she wanted to scream. She took a slow, deep breath, instead, to calm herself.
It didn't help. "Yes, I most certainly do want you to comfort me."
He was afraid she was going to say that. For the first time in a very long while, he was at a loss for words. No other woman had ever made such a strange request of him before. In the past, women had always come to him willingly and offered their bodies, and if he'd been in the mood to accommodate them-which, he had to admit, was most of the time-he'd accepted. He'd been mindful of his responsibility to be gentle with them, of course, and he'd always made certain their enjoyment matched his own. None of them had been virgins, though; he wouldn't have taken them to his bed if they had been, and now that he thought about it, damned near every one of them had been well-versed in the art of pleasuring a man. In fact, they'd usually had more experience than he had.
But they'd all left smiling.
This gentle lady standing before him wasn't at all like other women. She was his bride, the woman who would carry his name and bear his children. He should respect her by doing whatever was required of him to allay her fears. Admittedly, he was completely lacking in experience when it came to meeting the emotional needs of women, but he was certain that, if he put his mind to it, he could draw from past observations.
No, no, he was wrong about that, Connor realized after contemplating the dilemma for a moment. He guessed he'd never taken the time to notice what other men did with their women, not even his brother, Alec.
Now what? He wasn't about to tell her she was out of luck. She'd probably start crying then, and he wouldn't have any idea how to get her to stop. His brother always left the hall whenever his wife wept and returned only after she'd calmed down enough to listen to reason. He wasn't going to follow Alec's example now. He'd never get her bedded if he walked away from her. Hell, she'd think she'd been given a reprieve.
There seemed to be only one way out of this mire. He was going to have to help her get over this foolish worry of hers, no matter how long it took.