“I want him dead.”
“I can understand your wish. And I might have done the same, were I in your shoes.”
Bevan unwrapped a piece of bread and shoved it in Ruarc’s mouth. “Eat. And don’t tell Patrick I gave you anything. Otherwise I’ll be the one tied up tomorrow morn.” With a grimace, Bevan disappeared back inside the Chamber.
Ruarc bowed his head, steeling himself for the long night ahead. Silently he prayed that his sister would be safe.
“Yourmove.”Patrickslidhis pawn forward and waited for Isabel. His wife sat across from him, a low table between them. Her brow furrowed with concentration.
He’d barely won the last game. Isabel had played well, and he didn’t know when he’d had to use such strategy. Even so, she distracted him with the way she leaned upon the table, revealing the curve of her breasts.
Worse, he remembered the taste of her and the sensual fragrance of her skin, like honeysuckle. Were she a tribeswoman, he’d not be spending the night playing chess. No, he’d lay her down upon soft furs and watch her tremble as he loved her.
“Check.”
Check? Damn, she’d moved the rook instead. Patrick glared at the board, moving the queen to a safer square.
Several moves later, the game was hers. Delighted victory creased a smile upon her lips. “Care to play again?” she asked.
He did want to play. But not with a chess board. “No.” He stood up and stretched, pushing thoughts of her away. He had responsibilities to his tribe, above those to his wife. Why had he come here? He was playing chess with Isabel instead of remaining with his men. Worse, he’d enjoyed the challenge.
It was the first time in several moons that he’d relaxed with a game. She was a worthy opponent, and her ruthless style of strategy challenged him.
He liked that.
Guilt forced the thought away. Her father had killed his men, destroying his family life. He didn’t deserve to be here with her, not when he shouldered the blame for their loss.
His trews had not fully dried from the seawater, so he went to stand beside the fire. Musky peat permeated the interior of the hut.
“Patrick?” she asked. Isabel’s silken voice conjured up visions of her lying naked before him. He closed his eyes, unsure of what she wanted. Behind him, he heard her approach. Her palms touched his upper arms. Though it was an innocent gesture to gain his attention, her forbidden touch inflamed him.
He stifled a groan. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know. But we–we could talk,” she stammered. “Or if there’s any chamomile I could make some tea for us.” Her fingertips stroked his skin, arousing him with the barest touch. “I’d like to know you better.”
“It’s better if we don’t.” He hid his face from her, his control barely holding on. He didn’t need to be anywhere near Isabel de Godred. It had been far too long since he’d known the sweetness of a woman’s arms, and he wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Stay away from me, Isabel.” Her hands fell away, and he spun to face her. “I’ve left you alone for several nights now. I have my limits.”
She blanched at his honesty. Was she truly that innocent, not knowing what her touch did to him?
“I thought you might wish to remove your wet clothing. It cannot be comfortable.”
His gaze sharpened upon her, and she flushed. What game was she playing? Was she asking to share his bed? She knew better than to pursue that path.
“It is better if I remain clothed.” And better if he left the hut and stood in the frigid water for the next hour. His trews strained while he tried to master his unwanted response.
“I am your wife,” she whispered. “There is no need to suffer discomfort because of me.” She shivered, covering her breasts with her arms.
You have no idea, he wanted to say. But his discomfort had nothing to do with the damp wool; rather, it was the vicious desire that curled inside him, wanting release. He tightened his resolve.
“If it bothers you, I won’t look,” she promised.
He did smile then. “You’ll want to.”
IsabelhadneverseenPatrick smile before. Sweet saints, but he was handsome in a wild manner. His slate eyes darkened with promise. Instead of terrifying her, she wanted to draw nearer. The low firelight offered complete privacy, and for a moment she felt the desire to know this man.
He was a stranger, intelligent and fiercely loyal to his people. She admired that, even as he frustrated her.
