“Where’s the Scots blood in you, lass?”

“My grandda. Evan MacGregor. Do you have family?”

A dark shadow flitted through his eyes, a brief flash of anguish, there and gone so quickly that she wasn’t certain she hadn’t imagined it.

“My mother and da are dead. I have a brother.” He rose abruptly, gathering plates and taking them to the kitchen, leaving her to puzzle over what she thought she’d glimpsed. She was determined to pursue it, but when he returned, he distracted her by placing a glass of sparkling blood-red liquor in one hand and a cigar in the other.

Chloe blinked. “What is this?”

“The finest cigar money can buy and a glass of equally fine port.”

“And just what do you think I’m going to do with it?”

“Enjoy.” He flashed her a charming smile.

Chloe peered at the cigar curiously, rolling it in her fingers. She’d never smoked. Not anything. Had never wanted to. But if ever a moment was ripe to try new things, it was here and now, with a man who certainly wouldn’t sit in judgment upon her, no matter what she might do. It was strangely freeing, she realized, being around a man like him.

“Doona fash yourself, you needn’t inhale. ’Tis but the subtle combination of the port and pungent smoke on your tongue. Give it a try. If you doona like it, at least you’ll know the next time someone offers you one.”

He showed her how, preparing the cigar, coaxing her to puff it alight.

“I feel like I’m doing something bad.” She sneezed.

Och, she had no idea how bad. A small thing, to get her to smoke a cigar and have port. Lasses loved to flirt with danger, with things they’d never tried before, no matter how good they were. Oft because of how good they were. And one wee taste of the forbidden, oft translated into hunger for other fruit. Hunger, Chloe-lass, he willed silently. I’ll sate any desire you have. He could nearly taste her innocence on his tongue. Indeed, would, very soon.

“You’ve been doing something bad since the moment you met me, lass,” he purred, meaning himself, but when she glanced askance, he provoked, “snooping about in my bedroom—”

“I only snooped in your bedroom because you had stolen artifacts in there—”

“And why were you in my bedroom in the first place?” he asked silkily.

She flushed. “Because I was, er . . . I got, er . . .” she sputtered.

“And I must confess, I’ve been wondering just what you were doing near enough my bed to find those books. You must have been all but in it. Were you curious about me? About my bed? Mayhap about me in it?”

Her blush deepened. “I was just snooping, okay? But if I’d had any idea what I was going to find, I wouldn’t have.”

He smiled, a slow seductive smile, and Chloe caught her breath.

“Take a sip of port and let it lie upon your tongue a moment.”