she demanded. “How do you resist me?”The Laird blinked his liquid brown eyes open and looked across at her, his brows drawn in puzzlement rather than pain.“I doona know, Katriona.” The sound of her name on his lips riveted her. They way he said it, like silk snagging on gravel, echoed through the stone room as powerful as any of her screams. “I’ve never been able to resist ye before.”What the bloody hell did he mean by that? Katriona glared at him, her thoughts racing through her options. His sword was inches from where her hands rested on his chest, but she couldn’t very well wrap her hand around it and shove it though his body. As a spirit, she wasn’t corporeal, and therefore couldn’t move anyth—Katriona gasped. Her hands rested on his chest.Smooth, warm flesh flexed under her fingertips. The quick pace of his heart thumped a strong rhythm beneath her palm and his ribs expanded with deep breaths. Dumbfounded, Katriona moved her hands across the expanse of his torso. As with any inanimate object, she reached right through the tartan slung over his shoulder, but once her hand hit skin, it was as tangible as when she’d been alive. And smooth, very smooth.“What sorcery is this?”
