“No, I don’t want to go with them. And I don’t want a fight breaking out, either. It’s an old nickname from high school,” she said, leaning up to whisper her confession. “Peter didn’t mean anything by it. And he didn’t try to punch me to hurt me. Now, stop being a caveman, MacKeage.”

He had two choices. He could shove the spitting-mad woman into the arms of his now approaching cousin and give in to his urge to punch Peter the idiot in the nose. Or he could finish dancing with his date.

What to do?

Both actions stirred his blood.

Both would be equally satisfying.

With a grin sent to Callum, Morgan reached out and pulled Mercedes back into his arms, turning them both so that his back was to the intruders, smartly dismissing them as a threat to his evening. He ignored her squeak of surprise and nodded his head to Callum, who had now stopped his advance through the dancers. But his cousin didn’t return to his seat until the four men and two women, obviously confused by the sudden loss of a fight, simply walked away.

“Never issue threats you can’t back up, lass,” Morgan whispered into her hair. “It’s a bad habit that might prove dangerous someday.”

She popped her head off his shoulder and stared at him in silence. Her blush had calmed down slightly, but still her entire face glowed with lingering anger.

Morgan lifted his hand, entwining his fingers in her hair so she couldn’t look away, while he gently continued to coax her body to sway with his to the music.

“If I apologize for terrorizing you the other day, will you call a truce to our silent war?”

he asked. “And maybe start enjoying yourself tonight?”

“No.”

Why didn’t her answer surprise him? “Will you kick me in the shin if I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?”

Her gracefully arched brows puckered together, and her eyes narrowed, as if she suspected he was toying with her. Morgan gave up trying to make pleasant conversation. Instead, he urged her head back down to his shoulder before he gave in to his own urge to kiss her—right here on the dance floor, in front of God and all these people.

It was damn prickly business, trying to possess agràineag.

It was also damn fun.

Sadie didn’t know what to makeof her date. One minute he was pricking her temper, then defending her from an embarrassing nickname, and the next minute he was telling her she was pretty.

And he was a bossy date. The guy hadn’t stopped manhandling her all evening. He was constantly leading her here and there, ordering dinner and drinks for her, then guiding her over the dance floor like a drill sergeant.

And now they were walking the two miles back to her home because Morgan had decided it was a beautiful evening for a moonlit stroll.

Sadie still couldn’t understand why she liked him.

Can a man actually smell sexy? Sadie had been around plenty of men, but when she’d found herself in Morgan’s arms on the dance floor, all she could think about was how sexy he smelled. Warm in a masculine sort of way, with just a hint of the woods.

And he felt the way he smelled—just as sexy and very inviting. Sadie couldn’t believe she’d been able to relax enough actually to snuggle against him. Heck, what girl wouldn

’t be enchanted to find herself in the arms of a tall, powerful, very handsome god? She’d have to be insane not to take advantage of the moment, to rest her head on his broad shoulder and sway to the music as if she were a goddess.

Which was why Sadie had said her goodbyes to her mom and Callum and had gone along with Morgan’s plan to walk her home.

She was in no hurry for this dream date to end.

Sadie sighed into the stillness of the peaceful night. She was going to have to admit her actions four days ago had been wrong. Morgan had proven himself a gentleman tonight, and she could at least act like a lady. She would have to apologize.

“I’m sorry I took your picture the other day,” she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the road. “I had no right to invade your privacy that way.”

Sadie stopped when she realized she was speaking to empty air. She turned and looked.

The man was standing several steps back, staring at her. And he was not smiling.

“Dammit, MacKeage. I wasn’t thinking, okay? It’s just that you… well, you surprised me, and I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing.”

Without responding to her not-so-gracious apology, he slowly slipped out of his jacket and walked up to her. He swung the jacket past her head and settled it over her shoulders, gathering the lapels together and tightly entrapping her.

Sadie caught her breath as she stared up at him, just as trapped in the depths of his moonlit evergreen eyes.

“Did you like what you saw through the viewfinder, lass?” he asked, his gaze never wavering from hers.

She couldn’t have answered that question if she dared.

He suddenly smiled and released his hold on his jacket. He touched the end of her nose with one finger and shot her a wink. “It doesn’t matter if you did or not,” he said, moving to continue their walk toward home. “It’s the only body I’ve got, and you’ll just have to get used to it.”

Sadie blinked at his back, watching him walk away. She ran to catch up, tripped on her heels, and started skipping as she pulled first one shoe and then the other one off. She ran into him then, when he unexpectedly stopped and faced her.

“Ya can’t be baring your feet,” he said, reaching to take her shoes from her. “There might be glass or metal on the road.”

Sadie quickly tucked her shoes into the pockets of his jacket she was wearing and moved past him, walking on the pavement now, once more leading the way home. “I went barefoot the first ten years of my life,” she said over her shoulder. “Besides,” she said as his stride quickly brought him beside her, “I know a priest with a magic cane who can heal me just like that.” She snapped her fingers in the air.

She was suddenly brought to such an abrupt halt and spun around that one of her shoes fell onto the road.

“What do you know of a priest with a magic cane?” he asked.

Sadie blinked again. Morgan had gone deathly pale and frighteningly still, but for the fire of inquest in his now emerald-black eyes.

“I… I met the old priest who lives up on TarStone Mountain,” she said, not knowing what to make of his reaction.

“When?”

“The other day. Thursday. He came to visit me.”

Morgan’s hands on her shoulders tightened. “You stay away from Daar,” he told her. He shook her slightly. “Understand, Mercedes? You stay away from that old priest.”

She could only gape at him.

He shook her again. “You’re not to believe anything he tells you.”

And with that command issued, Morgan turned on his heel and started toward her house again. And again, Sadie found herself gaping at his back. His moods changed more often than the weather.

She ran to catch up. “Wait,” she said, grabbing his arm. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

He stopped and turned to her.

“I want to know if you’re the one stealing my trail markers.”

“Trail markers?”

“My orange ribbons. You said so yourself, earlier tonight, that you didn’t want a park built in Prospect Valley. Are you taking my ribbons, hoping to stop it?”

“And will taking the ribbons stop it?”

“No.”

“Weren’t some of those ribbons on MacKeage land?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at her.

Sadie dropped her gaze to the knot in his tie. “They might have been,” she quietly admitted. “But stealing ribbons won’t stop the park.”

He took hold of her hand and started walking again, this time across the grass, in the direction of the town pier that jutted into Pine Lake. Sadie allowed him to lead her to a bench, aware that he hadn’t answered her question and resigned to the fact that he probably would never admit to stealing her trail markers.