“I am no eunuch, see you!” He dropped the thing betwixt her still-parted thighs. “I’ve only meant to protect you. Save you from the curse that plagues me. The blackness that claims any and everyone I’ve e’er cared for! But you . . .”
He thrust both hands in his hair and shut his eyes.
When he opened them, she stood before him, her siren’s chain dangling from her hand. “You err, my lord,” she said, so close her breasts brushed his chest. “I do not need saving. I am the woman meant to save you.”
“Humph.” He started to back away, but she leaned into him, the hot thrust of her nipples almost taking his breath. “By the Rood, lass, you dinna know what you’re —”
“Och, but I do!”
Lifting up on her toes, she slung her chain around his neck, using the golden links to pull his head down to hers. Then her lips touched his and his heart stopped beating.
The world split, spinning away until nothing remained but her lushness against him, the silky-hot sweetness of her lips, and a heady, thought-numbing whirl of rose perfume.
“Ach, saints!” He whipped an arm around her, dragging her even closer. “I am lost . . .”
He thrust his free hand into her hair, twining his fingers in the cool, glossy curls. “Lost, I say you,” he breathed against her lips, and then he could speak no more.
His heart thundering, he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her fast, hard, and deep. Plundering and ravishing, he claimed her lips, at last giving in to the fire inside him. She clung to him, returning his kisses with equal heat, her tongue swirling around his, slipping and sliding, their breaths mingling, warm and honey-sweet.
He swept his hand down her back and around to her breasts, cupping and kneading them. His fingers circled and toyed with her nipples, each sweet tug and pinch making them draw ever tighter until his owntightnessthreatened to spill.
His need almost desperate, he broke the kiss.
“Nae, don’t stop.” She clutched at him, smothering his face with tiny kisses, licks, and nips, murmuring words that should have made him blush.
Instead, they hardened him even more.
“Ach, God!” He grasped her by the shoulders, setting her from him, some still-coherent part of him pleased to see that her own breath was coming as fast and shallow as his. Pleased, too, to see the telltale flush of arousal staining her magnificent breasts.
His heart knocking wildly, he plucked her dagger from his belt and threw it aside. Not taking his eyes off her, he reached to undo the heavy clasp of his sword-belt.
He needed, wanted, to be naked with her.
He had to make her his. Dare, Maldred, and all the world’s curses be damned.
It was time.
The knocking in his chest grew louder, a thunderous hammering in his blood, his ears.
“Sweet lass, I —”
“I heard tell the lass had been injured.” A ringing female voice came from the doorway.
Auld Meg, Dare’s hen wife.
Ronan spun around, his unbuckled sword-belt flying from his hands.
Behind him, Gelis gasped and an overloud metallicclink-clinkety-clinkrevealed that she’d dropped her bauble-chain as well.
Auld Meg’s gaze snapped to both, lingering especially on the glittering golden links.
The great green gemstone, winking wickedly from the innocent floor rushes.
“It would seem I was misinformed.” She shifted the basket of healing goods clutched against her hip.
“It would seem you have forgotten to knock!” Ronan jammed his hands on his hips and glared at her.
“And I say you have bog cotton in your ears.” Auld Meg huffed, all bristling indignation. “I’ve been pounding my knuckles raw a-waiting for your by-leave, thinking your lady in peril all the while.”
