“I need tae go,” Claricia managed, taking a step back before she could do something monumentally stupid. Like reach for him… or ask him to make good on every filthy promise implied in that smile. Like forgetting why she was supposed to hate him in the first place. “I have… things tae attend tae.”
“Wait.” His hand caught her wrist—not hard, but firm enough that she couldn’t pull away without making it obvious she was fleeing. When she looked up at him, some of the teasing had faded from his expression, replaced by something that looked almost… uncertain. He was smiling again—soft, knowing, and entirely too pleased with himself. His thumb made another circle on her wrist, the pad rough against her pulse point, before he released her like she was something precious he was letting go reluctantly. “Go on then, bride. Before me men start takin’ bets on whether I’m goin’ tae take ye right here in front of God and everyone.”
“Ye wouldnae dare?—”
“Nay?” The challenge in his eyes made her breath catch, made heat coil tight and urgent in her belly. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and ye’ll find out exactly what I’d dare.”
As she fled back toward her chamber—and it was fleeing, there was no other word for it—she heard Liv’s laughter following, heard Erik say something that made his warriors erupt in crude cheers, but she didn’t look back.
Because if she did, she might do something utterly mad.
Like admitting that part of her—a traitorous, foolish part that seemed to be growing stronger with every passing moment—wanted him to make good on that threat. Wanted him to show her exactly what those tattooed hands could do, what that wicked mouth could make her feel, what it would be like tosurrender completely to the Wolf of Skye and let him devour her whole.
CHAPTER TEN
“If ye’d like tae keep yer guts on the inside, ye’ll tell me who’s behind this.”
Erik leaned against the cold stone wall, his arms crossed, watching Aksel work. Brood dripped from the prisoner’s split lip onto the floor.
The man spat. “Ye willnae get anythin’ from me, yefilthy pagan!”
Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.
Aksel’s hand went still where it gripped the man’s neck. “Ye hear that?”
“Aye.” Erik’s jaw tightened. “Footsteps—light and quick.”
“One of the lads?”
“Nay.” Erik pushed off the wall.
Aksel’s expression darkened. “Erik, ye dinnae think?—”
The footsteps stopped right outside the door.
Erik crossed the room in three strides, yanked open the door—and there she was, hand outstretched toward the handle, eyes wide with surprise.
“What in the name of all that’s sacred are ye daein’ here?”
The words came out harsher than Erik intended, but fury had already claimed the better part of his reason. His hand shot out, catching Claricia’s arm in the shadowed corridor, spinning her away from the door’.
She gasped, stumbling against him in the darkness, and he felt the impact of her body like a brand through his tunic. Soft curves molding against hard muscle. The scent of lavender and something uniquelyherfilling his lungs.
“Let go of me!” She wrenched against his grip, all fury and fire. “Ye’re hurtin’ me!”
He wasn’t. He’d been careful, even in his anger, to keep his hold firm but not harsh. But the accusation stung nonetheless, and he released her immediately, though he didn’t step back. Couldn’t. Not when she was here, in the one place he’d told her never to venture.
“I asked ye a question.” Erik kept his voice low, dangerous. Behind that door, Aksel was questioning the prisoner. The last thing they needed was for Claricia to notice the methods they employed. “What are ye daein’ in the North Wing?”
“I got lost!” She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed her, her eyes blazing even in the dim torchlight. “The castle is a bloody maze, and I was tryin’ tae find me way tae Liv’s chambers when I?—”
“Lost.” He didn’t bother hiding his disbelief. “Ye expect me tae believe ye wandered all the way tae the one place I specifically told ye tae avoid?”
“I dinnae care what ye believe!” Her voice pitched higher, threading with something that might have been fear beneath the defiance. “Go ahead and discipline me fer me insolence,me jarl.”
Erik studied her face, searching for deception. But all he saw was genuine indignation and, aye, a flicker of terror that she was trying desperately to mask. The corridor was dark, far from the inhabited parts of the castle. She was alone, confronted by a man twice her size who’d just grabbed her from the shadows.
A man whose reputation was built on blood and ruthlessness.
