“A wee one. No tongue. I promise,” he said, his lips curving faintly.

“You never give up, do you?”

“I never will, sweet. Doona you know that by now?”

Oooh, that was beginning to take on shades of her dream. And he’d called her “sweet,” a little endearment. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

He lifted his hand to her face and lightly traced his fingers down the curve of her cheek. A soft touch, nothing overtly seductive about it. The gentleness of it startled her, stilled her. He moved his hand from her face to her soft curls, threading them through his fingers.

“Have I told you, Chloe-lass, that you’re beautiful?” he said softly.

She narrowed her eyes. If he thought a generic compliment would buy him a kiss, he was sadly mistaken.

“Och, aye, lovely as can be.” He smudged her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “And without a trace of artifice. I sat in my cab and stared at you the day I first saw you. I watched other men looking at you and wished them blind. You bent back into the car to say something to your driver. You were wearing a black skirt and jacket with a sweater the color of heather, and your hair was falling into your eyes and you kept pushing it back. It was misting a bit, and the hose on your legs glistened with droplets of rain. You didn’t mind the rain, though. For a moment, you tipped your head back, turning your face up to it. It took my breath away.”

The caustic comment coiled on the tip of her tongue died.

He looked at her a long moment, then dropped his hands.

“Come, lass.” He offered her his hand. “Let’s fetch some breakfast, then I’d like to take you somewhere.”

Chloe struggled for composure. The man had a way of throwing her off-kilter like no one else she’d ever known. Just when she thought she knew him, he threw something unexpected at her. Where had that just come from? He remembered exactly what she’d been wearing the day they’d met, and it had been misting that morning. And she had briefly turned her face up into the mist; she’d always liked rain. She cleared her throat. “So when do I get to see the texts?” she hastily forced the conversation to less uncertain terrain.

“Soon. Very soon.”

Other men were watching you and I wished them blind. She shook her head, trying to scatter his words from her mind. Unable to determine what “face value” to place upon them. “Does your brother have other artifacts too?” she pressed brightly.

“Aye. You’ll see many things before the day is through.”

“Really? Like what?”

He smiled faintly at her eagerness and caught her hands in his. “Do you know how I know when you’re excited about something?”

Chloe shook her head.