He turned to her at the bottom. “You’re not still frightened, are you?”
“Maybe. A little.” The candles had all guttered out. She hurried to get her cloak from the manacle on the wall.
He blocked her path and grabbed her around the middle, leaning to give her a kiss.
Just like that, her fear melted away. As his mouth slanted over hers, a dizzying cloud of his sandalwood scent surrounded her, overwhelming the dungeon’s mustiness and reminding her of what she’d been thinking earlier. Her senses spun wildly, and before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her by the waist.
“Oof! What are you doing?”
His only answer was a raised brow as he walked forward, then sat her in the open cage, letting her legs dangle out where the door hung loose. He gave the ugly black thing a push to start it swinging.
The metal felt cold beneath her skirts, and the swinging chain made an awful grating noise. Holding tight to the opening, she gave a shaky laugh.
He grinned. “See? It’s not scary down here at all. Not with the sunlight and the company. And it must not have been scary to my mother, either, considering it was her special place.”
Trying to be a good sport, Kendra reached her toes to push off again. The chain moaned a protest. “I can imagine her coming here to think,” she told him, swaying to and fro. “The way you go to the cottage at Amberley.”
He hesitated, then nodded his head. “Aye, just like that.”
Pleased that he’d admitted as much, she pressed for more. “You write there, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.” He gave the cage another shove, sending the chain to its screeching song.
“I wonder if your mother wrote here?”
“I never saw her write anything other than letters. But I’d lay odds she came here with Hamish when they were younger—and not to write.” He pushed her again, flashing a grin or a leer, she wasn’t sure which. “Aye, I can picture them here, all right. I bet they came here to secretly make love.”
A little tingle started in the pit of her stomach. “Make love? In here?”
“It’s private enough.” He cocked a brow. “I was conceived here. I can feel it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” But intrigued, she looked around. “There’s no bed.”
“What makes you think we need a bed?”
“W-we?” Her fingers clenched the iron bars. “You cannot be serious. I cannot imagine—”
With his hands on the bars that flanked her head, he stilled the cage. “Ah, lassie, it’s not really so hard to imagine.” His wicked smile drew her attention to that tiny, charming chip on his tooth, and he took advantage, reaching down to flip up her skirts.
“Trick! What—” He was fumbling with the laces on his breeches. “Oh, my God.”
“This would be easier in that kilt,” he muttered.
And suddenly she had no problem imagining at all. In fact, her imagination was becoming reality. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to hammer in her chest.
Fifty-Four
KENDRA WATCHED,riveted, as Trick ripped the lacing from its holes and stuffed it into his pocket. The front of his breeches gaped open.
“Oh, my God.” She gripped the iron bars even tighter. “You cannot think—”
“Aye, now that you mention it, Iamhaving trouble thinking.” Tossing his hair from his face, he stepped close, a lethal look in his eye with a grin to match. “My head feels a bit light.”
“Oh, my—”
Cutting off her words, his mouth came down on hers. Hot and frantic, his tongue delved inside immediately, and all at once, her head felt light, too. His hands spread her knees, and he stepped between them, pressing close. His warmth teased hers, and a shimmer of melting sensation rippled every nerve in her body.
Just like that, she wanted him inside. Part of her had been waiting for this from the moment he’d given her that lust-threaded look the first time they were down here. The saner part of her had gone into hiding.
