really nice thighs. Amazing abs. Hard pecs. Sculpted biceps. And those unbelievable lips. It was difficult to put words together, and she really needed that ability. Marla cleared her throat.
“Well. That’s imaginative, I’ll give you that. I mean, I’ve heard stories, and I’ve heard
stories
, but I’ve never heard anything quite like this.”
“It’s
nae
story,
Ionmhainn
. I vow it.”
“My name is Marla.”
“I ken. Marla Sanders. From the United States of America. Across the ocean. Las Vegas, Nevada, to be exact.”
Her mouth opened. Not a sound came out. She had to shut it.
“You want me to continue?” he asked.
“Who
are
you?”
He flashed a grin again. Her heart stuttered.
Damn thing
.
“Cullen MacCorrick. Laird of Clan Corrick – which does na’ mean much since the last member of my clan perished at the Battle of Culloden. I was away on assignment or I’d have been there, although I doubt it would have changed the outcome. But it would have been nice to have someone to carry on the clan name.”
“Cullen.”
“Aye. Cullen MacCorrick. And I’ll just keep spouting words until you believe me, although I am a bit out of practice.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been alone for years, Marla. Verra alone.”
“Oh. Yes. That. What was it again? Seven hundred of them?”
“And more. I did na’ have anyone when I was turned, either.”
“Turned.” The word wasn’t questioned. It was an automatic response to nonsense.
“Aye. Atop this verra stone beneath us. ’Twas pulled from a Londontown dungeon. That was
nae
easy task, but I could na’ just stay there.”
“London...town?”
“Apologies. The Sassenach call it London nowadays.”
“Okay. I’m going to try again. I’m going to go right past the fact that dungeons are not used anymore and just move on. Let’s just suppose they have them. And that you were incarcerated in one. Why were you there?”
“I got caught.”
“Oh. Nice try. I would say everyone is in there for that. What crime were you charged with, Cullen?”
“’Twas
nae
crime. I was fighting for Scot independence.”
Her brows rose. “I heard about the referendum. I thought it was peaceful.”
“I was scheduled to be drawn and quartered, lass.”
“Oh. No way. Nobody does that anymore. No. I refuse to believe it. I’m fairly certain that would be a violation of the Geneva Convention or something.”
“Na’ seven centuries ago. ’Twas the sentence meted out to enemies of the English crown. I was na’ the lone man given it, either.”
“You know I’m going to have to ask. How can you possibly be that old? You look...maybe twenty-five. Did you tap into the Fountain of Youth of something?”
“You certain you want the answer? You’re looking a mite skeptical at the moment.”
Oh. Good. He had figured out what her expression meant. “Just a mite? Odd. I was going for the ‘you gotta be kidding me’ look.”
“Truly? Why?”
“Are you for real, Cullen?”
“Oh. Aye. Did I na’ feel real to you last night, lass? And do I na’ look it now?”
He had to go and preen or something that sent striations of muscle into full display. Just about everywhere. Good night. Now he was behaving like a peacock. Marla looked away. He was definitely a Sagittarius. Exuberant. Enthusiastic. Charming. Restless. Passionate.
The exact opposite of her Virgo influence.
She spoke her next words to the netting at her side, and the shadow of something resembling an urn on the other side of it.
“I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Cullen.”
“Oh. Verra good. Serious.”
“Well, to do that I need you to cooperate such a smidge. You good with that?”
Marla turned back to him. Her heart did a palpitation she’d never felt before and wasn’t ready for. She almost slapped a hand to it. What was worse, his hand hit his chest exactly as she would have, at the exact moment she thought it.
“Cullen?”
“Ah. Thank the gods. You feel it,