Chapter 2
Lucian ground his teeth together. It had taken every ounce of control he had to walk away from Isabelle last eve.
He had wanted to stay and tell her everything, but that would have frightened her off.
She had already been afraid after her attack, and it was because of that attack that he was once more hiding in the shadows.
Watching her.
Desiring her.
Craving her.
His body knew she was the one, the other half of his soul. He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her. The small touches he’d stolen while putting her on Elad and helping her dismount hadn’t been nearly enough.
Nay, they’d only fanned the flames of his desire until he burned, blazed…smoldered with it.
He spent the day tracking the men who had attacked her to make sure they were no longer in the village. After that, he stayed near her cottage and followed her into the small town. He would take no chances with her life now, not after finally finding her.
His stomach growled, and with the hours ahead until she left the tavern, he knew he needed to eat. A slow smile spread across his face as he tied off Elad and walked toward the tavern.
The anticipation of seeing Isabelle again made his hands shake as he reached for the door.
He pushed it open and stepped inside to the heavenly smell of roasting meat, ale, and fresh baked bread.
A quick glance showed the brightly lit room to have a few men at the bar drinking while others sat at the tables eating and conversing.
Lucian found an empty table near the door and slid into the seat. His eyes raked the room until he spotted Isabelle walking from the back, her arms laden with trenchers of food. She smiled easily to the patrons and even joked with a few.
He knew the moment she spotted him. Her body jerked slightly, and her midnight-blue eyes softened in welcome. He gave her his most charming smile as she finished setting down the mugs of ale she carried, and walked toward him.
“Good evening,” he said.
She swallowed and licked her lips, luscious kissable lips that he’d dreamed of sliding over his cock. “I never expected to see you again.”
Lucian had to forcibly move his gaze from her lovely mouth to her beautiful midnight eyes. “I told you last night that I’d see you again.”
“I know, I just didn't think you meant it.”
Her words, spoken so softly, hit him right in the chest. He leaned back in the chair and regarded his mate carefully.
She had an easy smile and kind eyes, but if he looked deeper, he could see there was a hurt, deep and profound, that she kept only to herself.
He wanted to know what it was. More than that, he wanted her to trust him. “Are you still frightened of me?”
She started to deny it, then promptly closed her mouth. She stared at him a moment before she said, “I am. Strangers always make me nervous.”
“Yet we are no longer strangers.”
The smile was slow, with just a hint of sensuality, telling him she had no idea of her allure. “You’re so proper. We don't have much of that around here.”
He loved how her eyes sparkled mischievously when she teased. “I'm no’ so proper. Shall I show you?”
Lucian prayed she said yes. He wanted so much to wind his fingers in her long hair and pull her against him. He craved to place his lips on hers and taste her, to hold her. He yearned to know his mate fully.
And claim her for his own.
Isabelle stared at the man before her. Even without seeing his entire face the night before, she’d known it was him instantly. It was his black clothes and the way he held himself. And the way he watched her.
His black gaze fairly smoldered. It sent her stomach fluttering to have such a look directed at her.
To say he was handsome would be an understatement.
His thick, wavy black hair stopped just below his shoulders, with a lock falling near his right temple.
A regal nose and forehead went along with his noble stance.
A strong jaw line and chin, just a shadow of a beard and wide, thin lips finished off a face a sculptor could only dream of.
He had eyes as black as his hair, fringed with long lashes that would have made a lesser man look feminine.
Those wide shoulders she’d glimpsed the night before in the darkness didn’t prepare her for them in the cold light of day. Thick sinew corded those broad shoulders and neck. His tunic stretched tight over solid arms. And how she wished his jerkin was gone so she could get a look at his chest.
Isabelle was shocked at her reaction to him, but it was visceral, primitive. Primal. This need, this hunger that besieged her ever since she’d first caught sight of Lucian atop his huge horse.
Whoever he was, she wanted to know more of it.
Silence grew between them until she cleared her throat, noticing that he’d let her look her fill. “Are you hungry? We serve some of the best food around.”
“I'm famished.”
Somehow she knew he wasn't referring to food. Chills raced down her spine and her heart pounded against her ribs as his eyes moved to her mouth.
Excitement. Exhilaration.
Anticipation.
She felt those things and more, so much more she couldn’t even begin to name. Isabelle had never cared for strangers, and usually kept a clear path from them. It wasn’t difficult in her small village tucked away in the Highlands. No one sought out their village willingly.
Yet Lucian was here. And she couldn’t seem to stay away from him.
Isabelle tucked her hand behind her back when she found herself reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.
“What are you serving tonight?”
“Mrs. MacDonald makes excellent haggis, but she’s also made a big pot of stew that will make your mouth water.”
Lucian's wide mouth pulled into a smile. “I'll take the stew and an ale.”
Isabelle moved toward the kitchen to get his order.
The need to return to him quickly made her nerves frazzled, and her already rapid heartbeat quickened.
She told herself it was because he was different from the men in her village, but the truth was…
he stirred her. It had been so long since she had found anything exciting that she was drawn to him like the flowers to the sun.
“Isabelle, lass, are you all right?” Mrs. MacDonald asked as Isabelle hurried into the kitchen.
A laugh bubbled up inside her. She was anything but all right when Lucian was around. Isabelle smoothed the strands of hair away from her face. “Another order of your stew, Mrs. MacDonald.”
“Ach, I'm glad I made a big pot this time, though I fear I just might run out soon,” she said as she spooned the delicious stew into a bowl. “Tell me who it is that has made your face glow.”
Isabelle blinked. “Pardon?”
“You heard me, lass. I may be old, but I still remember what it was like to have a man notice me, especially when I was interested in that man.”
Isabelle laughed as she grabbed a spoon. “Mrs. MacDonald, I hope you're speaking of Mr. MacDonald.”
She winked as she handed Isabelle the bowl. “Of course, lass, of course. Now,” she said as she walked to the door. “Point him out to me so I can tell you if he's good enough for you.”
“I doubt you'll be able to tell me that.”
“Why is that, dearling?”
Isabelle reached the door and stared at Lucian. “He's new to the village.”
“Ah, a stranger. We don’t get many of those around here.
Mayhap that’s just what you’re needing, lass.
The men left in this village aren’t worth much of anything.
” Mrs. MacDonald leaned out and looked around the room.
“'Tis the dark man by the door. I see the way his eyes search the room, as if he is looking for something.” She straightened and looked at Isabelle. “Or someone.”
Isabelle smiled. “Just because he's added a little excitement doesn't mean anything.”
“It does if he is the same man that rescued you last night.”
“He’s the same man.”
Mrs. MacDonald mumbled something to herself and went back to her cooking. Isabelle walked through the doorway to the bar. She set the bowl of stew down and reached for a goblet.
“We're busy tonight,” Mr. MacDonald said from beside her.
“Aye. I’ll sleep well, that's for sure.”
“Who’s the stranger?”
She knew he would ask. Mr. MacDonald always made sure to know who it was that visited his tavern. “Lucian. He's the man who saved me last eve.”
His wrinkled face brightened. “Then give him his meal and ale free. Anyone who would put their own lives at risk to help you deserves no less.”
Isabelle nodded and took the bowl and ale to Lucian.
“Smells delicious,” Lucian said as he took the bowl.
Isabelle took a step back, making herself put distance between them. “You won't be disappointed.”
“Shall I walk you home tonight?”
His question, softly spoken, sent a wave of eagerness through her. A ‘yes’ was on the tip of her tongue when she paused. “Why?”
His brows lifted. “Why? Could it be that I worry for your safety?”
“Could it be that you want to take advantage of me?” she retorted.
He lowered his spoon and met her gaze with inky dark eyes. “If I had wanted to take advantage of you, I could’ve done that last eve.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, wary because of her reaction to him. What she was feeling was so abnormal that it frightened her, alarmed her. “I don't know.”
“You shouldn't be walking alone in the dark. I’ll even let you keep my dagger.”
She had completely forgotten to return it to him last night, but she did have it strapped to her thigh. The thought of his hand on the weapon, the same weapon that was against her bare thigh, made her blood heat. “We close up in a couple of hours if you’d like to wait.”
He nodded and took a bite of the stew. “Excellent, just as you said.”
She walked away, her legs wooden and her body on fire.
For the rest of the evening Isabelle felt his eyes on her. No man had ever noticed her before, and certainly no man like Lucian. He didn't just look at her, his eyes devoured her.
And she liked it.