He was back at Caithness, he was hopelessly attractive, and he still treated her exactly the same as he had when she’d been a child. What would it take to make him see that she wasn’t a child anymore? Well, stop acting like one, to start with, she remonstrated herself. Since the moment she’d tenderly mended his shirt, she’d been longing to waylay him, divest him of the pernicious reminder, and gleefully burn it. Doing so, however, would have reinforced his perception that she had a penchant for witless action, so instead she’d procured three shirts of finer linen, with flawless stitching, and instructed the maids to place them in his room. Did he wear them?

Nary a one.

Each day that dawned, he donned the same shirt with the ridiculous pleat down the back. She’d considered asking him why he wouldn’t wear the new ones, but that would be as bad as admitting that his ploy to make her feel stupid and guilty was working. She’d die before she betrayed another ounce of emotion to the emotionless man who was sabotaging her impeccable manners.

Jillian dragged her eyes from the dark, seductive man walking in the bailey, wearing a badly mended shirt, and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. Jillian Alanna Roderick; she rolled the name behind her teeth, a whisper of exhaled breath. The syllables tumbled euphonically. I only wish …

“So it’s the cloister for you, eh, lass?”

Jillian stiffened. The throaty rumble of Ramsay Logan was not what she needed to hear at this moment. “Um-hmm,” she mumbled in the direction of the window.

“You won’t last a fortnight,” he said matter-of-factly.

“How dare you?” Jillian whirled about to face him. “You don’t know a thing about me!”

Ramsay smiled smugly.

Jillian blanched as she remembered that he’d seen her naked at the window the day he’d arrived. “I’ll have you know that I have a calling.”

“I’m sure you do, lass,” Ramsay purred. “I simply think your ears are plugged and you’re hearing the wrong one. A woman like you has a calling to a flesh-and-blood man, not a God who will never make you feel the joy of being a woman.”

“There are finer things in life than being a man’s broodmare, Logan.”

“No woman of mine would ever be a broodmare. Don’t misunderstand me: I don’t belittle the Kirk and Christ’s chosen, I simply don’t see you being drawn to such a lure. You’re too passionate.”

“I am cool and collected,” she insisted.

“Not around Grimm,” Ramsay said pointedly.

“That’s because he irritates me,” Jillian snapped.

Ramsay cocked a brow and grinned.

“Just what do you think is so funny, Logan?”

“ ‘Irritates’ is an interesting word for it. Not the one I might have chosen. Rather, let’s see … ‘Excites’? ‘Delights’? Your eyes burn like amber in the sunlight when he enters the room.”

“Fine.” Jillian turned back to the window. “Now that we’ve debated our choice of appropriate verbs, and you’ve selected all the wrong ones and obviously don’t know a thing about women, you may continue on with your day. Shoo, shoo.” She waved her hand at him.

Ramsay’s grin widened. “I don’t intimidate you a bit, do I, lass?”

“Aside from your overbearing attitude, and the fact that you use your great height and girth to make a woman feel cornered, I suspect you’re more bull than bully,” she muttered.

“Most women like the bull in me.” He moved closer.

Jillian shot a disgusted look over her shoulder. “I’m not most women. And don’t be standing on my toes, Logan, there’s only room enough for me on them. You can trundle back home to the land of the mighty Logan, where the men are men and the women belong to them. I am not the kind of woman you’re used to dealing with.”

Ramsay laughed.

Jillian turned slowly, her jaw clenched.

“Would you like some help with Roderick?” He gazed over her shoulder, out the window.

“I thought we’d just established you’re not a coldblooded murderer, which means you’d be of no use to me.”

“I think you need help. That man can be dense as sod.”

When the door to the Greathall opened a scant instant later, Ramsay moved so quickly that Jillian had no time to protest. His kiss was swiftly delivered and lingeringly prolonged. It raised her to her tiptoes and left her strangely breathless when he released her.

Jillian gazed at him blankly. Truth be told, she’d had so few kisses that she was grossly unprepared for the skillful kiss of a mature man and accomplished lover. She blinked.