Connor forgot what he was saying when Ilysa passed through the hall balancing a basket on her hip. He knew she must have passed through his hall several times a day over the past two and a half years. And yet, he had never been aware of her movements until their return from the gathering.
The problem was her new manner of dressing. Although she did not wear anything remotely inappropriate, her new gowns did not hide the feminine lines of her body. As she re-crossed the hall, Connor's gaze followed the graceful curve of her neck and the swell of her breasts. Before he could stop himself, he imagined the slender, shapely legs beneath her skirts.
When he finally tore his gaze away, he realized the men were waiting for him to continue whatever in the hell he'd been talking about. He began again but found himself straining to hear her soft voice as she spoke to one of the women.
This could not continue. He was chieftain, and the future of his clan was in his hands.
"We'll speak more of this later," he told the men. "Sorely, lead the practice, and I'll join ye shortly. Our foes do not rest, and neither must we."
Leaving them with that trite admonishment, he strode across the hall to where Ilysa appeared to be in a struggle to the death with a torch that had been rammed too forcefully into a sconce in the wall.
"I'll do it," he said, reaching for it.
When their hands touched, it was as if a lightning bolt went through him. Angry at his reaction to her, he jerked the torch out of the wall and tossed it into the hearth.
Ilysa raised her eyebrows, and he knew he'd offended her careful husbandry of the castle resources. But they belonged to him, damn it, and if he wanted to toss a torch into the fire, so be it. He had a far bigger problem to deal with here than one wasted torch.
"I must speak with ye," he said.
"I was just about - "
"Now." Connor turned, then marched across the hall and through the doorway to the other building and his private chamber. He wanted no risk of this conversation being overheard. But when he shut the door behind her, he was suddenly acutely aware that this was also his bedchamber, and that he and Ilysa were alone in it.
"What is it?" Ilysa asked with a pleasant smile and folded her hands in front of her.
With all his blood leaving his head and filling his cock, he was having trouble recalling his purpose in bringing her here. Something deep inside him made him want to break through her composure, to see if there was fire beneath all that brisk efficiency and calm control.
What was wrong with him? He reminded himself that Ilysa was a lass of undeniable virtue who trusted him blindly. If that wasn't enough - and it should be - she was his best friend's sister. Connor took a deep breath and approached her. Ach, it was a mistake to stand so close to her. The light scent of lilies filled his nose, making him long to smell it on her bare skin.
She glanced at the bed, drawing his attention to it, which was most unfortunate. It would be so easy to get her there. His breathing grew shallow as he imagined her naked above him, a tangle of red-gold hair falling over her breasts while he gripped her slim hips. When Ilysa shifted her gaze back to him, she looked a trifle nervous. As well she should.
"I want ye to go back to wearing your old gowns," he said, wanting to get this over with.
Ilysa stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, she said, "I don't have them anymore."
Damn it. "Why not?"
"Your sister and S
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