Her task complete, she brushed the grass and dirt off her skirts. She needed to busy herself lest she burst into tears — or great gales of laughter — at the futility of her gown-fastening efforts.
Retied, her already-dipping bodice once again covered her, but only just.
Her breasts strained against the ripped cloth, the generous swells barely contained. And, much to her horror, her right nipple was poking through a jagged little tear she’d somehow overlooked in her haste to redo the laces.
Indeed, she looked more scandalously naked than before!
A truth plainly evidenced by the Raven’s tight, hard-set expression as he struggled not to glance any lower than her carefully lifted chin.
“You have much more than eyes, sweetness. I would that you didn’t.” He took a step closer; his voice came rough, husky. “And you shouldn’t have —”
“What I shouldn’t, husband mine, is allow you to keep telling me you are a menace.” She snatched a jug from the table, sloshed a measure of wine into a cup, and thrust it into his hands. “Drink,” she urged, drawing herself up, “perhaps Valdar’s fine Gascon wine will loosen your tongue.”
Pray that ne’er happens, she was sure he said beneath his breath.
She shoved a curl off her forehead, her heart thumping. “I know our union was meant to be. You know that I have visions and I have seen you in them!”
He stared at her, wine cup poised at his lips, his face an unreadable mask. But a muscle jerked in his jaw, its sudden appearance giving him away.
He knew.
She was sure of it.
“You know this, I am thinking!” She tossed back her hair. “Know that you’ve come to me as a raven and as . . . yourself! That you reach for me, dragging me against you and kissing me. So why” — she jammed her hands on her hips, her voice rising — “when we are together, myself nigh unclothed, do you look on me with such coldness? Why —”
“Och, lass, you err.” He shook his head, his eyes darkening. “It has naught to do with you. ’Tis me, only me, I swear to you. Ne’er have I —”
“Do I have the breasts of a crone?” She tore at her bodice ties, yanked her gown open. “Am I so undesirable that you —”
“Nae!” He threw the wine cup to the ground. “Ne’er you even think it!”
“But —”
A sound, deep, masculine, and elemental came from somewhere and then she was in his arms, crushed hard against him, held even more tightly than in the visions.
“Lass, lass! You are more desirable than any woman I have e’er known.” He drew back to look at her. “E’er, I say, do you hear me? Ne’er have I been more tempted!”
“ But —” The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet and a blast of chill wind stole her protest.
She bit her lip, her heart thundering wildly. His gaze pierced her, dark and feral.
Heat blazed between them, alive and crackling, a sizzling rush ofneedso fierce her knees buckled and she would’ve plunged to the ground if not for his iron-bound grip on her.
“If you desire me, then make me yours!” She saw thewantglinting in his eyes and it spurred her on, making her bold. “I am your wife. Do not shun me!”
She thrust her fingers into his hair, twining them in the thick raven strands as she pressed into him, aching, burning for his kiss.
But rather than oblige her, he stiffened, already pulling away from her.
“No- o-o!” She clung to him, holding tight. “I won’t let you do this —”
“I have already done the unthinkable.” He tore free of her grasp, agitation shimmering off him. “And, aye, you deserve the truth, though I’d give anything to have spared you.”
“Then speak true.” She put back her shoulders and stood tall. “See that a MacKenzie does not melt in the rain — or crumple upon hearing words she’d rather not!”
“Ach, lass.” He blew out a breath. “Let me tell you this much,” he began, starting to pace. “Torcaill told me how powerful your gift is. He sensed it and, aye, deep inside, I was no’ surprised, as I have had . . . dreams.”
He rammed a hand through his hair, glanced at her. “ ’Twas just as you say. Me, holding and kissing you, needing you more than the air I breathe.”
