Chapter 18 #3
“I am afraid of nothing.” Only myself. The way you make me feel. As if I’ve stepped off a cliff, but rather than plunging, I soar. Spinning and floating and dancing on clouds, aware only of giddy delight, exhilaration.
And that, sir, is terrifying.
“Come here.”
His two words brought her back down, into her night-shadowed bedchamber, away from lofty heights of foolish womanly yearnings.
“Now, lass.”
A command this time. Irrefutable, assertive, and so compelling her feet shifted as if they sought to carry her toward him, acting on their own, heedless of her will.
Just as distressing, her fingers somehow relinquished their grip on the chair, joining her feet in a betrayal of her wish to stay where she stood. She dug her heels into the floor rushes, alarmed by the strange witchery he held over her.
As if he knew, he held out a hand, beckoning. “I would have but one kiss. Consider it a lesson in enlightenment.”
“Nae. Not this night.”
“You would deny me?” He lowered his hand. “Am I so plagued by ill luck of late that I’ve no’ just lost my freedom but also my wits?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Aye, my wits seem to have scattered,” he said. “Or did you, with your vast knowledge of men, think to have me sire a babe on you by sharing the air in this chamber?”
She blew out a breath. “I know how bairns are made.”
He raised a brow. “So you have claimed.”
“Then why ask me again?”
“You surely know a kiss is innocent?” He again extended a hand. “Come, lass, prove you are bold.”
“You, sir, would provoke a piece of wood to be bold!” She strode forward to clasp his hand.
“You please me,” he said, the press of his strong, warm fingers closing around hers heating more than her hand. “Now I shall please you.”
His low rumbling voice quickened her pulse. The feel of his large hand encircling hers proved soothing, a sensation that lessened her ire and sent delicious warmth spooling through her.
She just wished the moonlight coming through the window didn’t slant across his face, illuminating him.
But it did.
Worse, the silvery light and the room’s shadows drew attention to his every feature, underscoring his handsomeness. Was it necessary for him to have such splendid looks?
She didn’t know, but she wished she could ignore the fluttery sensation he’d kindled in her. It felt wondrous and threatened to melt her resistance.
He leaned forward then, so close his lips almost brushed hers. “Do you no’ want to be pleasured?”
“Nae.” She shook her head, flashed a glance at the discarded flask.
Mercy, but she needed a swallow of Devorgilla’s potion.
“This is not about enjoyment,” she reminded him, wishing he would straighten. Annoyed that pride prevented her from stepping back, away from him. “The matter is quite simple. Desire needn’t come into it at all.”
“Is that why you tremble when I touch you?” He spoke at her ear, smoothed his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. His caress sent a flurry of shivers down her back.
His chuckle said he knew.
“I shake with vexation, not pleasure.” She kept her head angled away from him.
“Indeed?” He captured her chin and turned her face to his. “Most beautiful lady, I do no’ believe you.”
“You vex me mightily, that is all.”
“Aye, well.” He lifted his hands, holding them palms out. “Then retreat behind your chair. I will no’ stop you.”
She didn’t move. “You have no right to care where I stand, or sit, or anything.”
“True, enough.” His smile flashing again, he grasped her arms and let his hands glide up to and over her shoulders, then back down again. “But there is a fine line between passion and ire. Sometimes it blurs.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye, and I shall prove it,” he said, kneading her arms.
“How?”
“Easily.” He looked as if he knew awareness flittered along her skin, her arms already capitulating. “I shall convince you with a kiss.”
Oh, dear. Her arms might have betrayed her, but her tongue held true, refusing to answer him.
Clearly sensing victory, he slid his arms around her and pulled her against his broad, hard-muscled chest.
“A thorough and leisurely kiss,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.
Something she saw there made her breath catch. She was losing the battle against him, besieged by the feel of his powerful body against hers, the tone of his voice, and – gods help her - the heart-stealing sensations spinning through her. Until this moment she could have denied them.
Now…
“Must you?” She could hardly speak.
“What? Kiss you?” He lowered his head, coming so close their breath mingled. “Aye, I must,” he said, and did.
He touched his mouth to hers with such tenderness, yet the impact of his soft, toe-curling kiss rivaled the strength of the arms he’d curved around her back.
A tiny sigh escaped her, the lightness of the kiss startling in its intimacy. As if he wanted to taste and test her lips before kissing her deeply. And she wished he would, for she found herself consumed by the most stirring sensations, headier than she’d dreamed a kiss would be.
His kiss was perfect in every way.
No, he was.
And where did that leave her?