She studied the handsome face looking down on her—he was at least two or three inches over six feet—with the same intensity that she’d looked at the stone earlier, trying to penetrate their secrets. To the same effect. They both revealed little.
“Perhaps you would be interested in looking at a few drawings I have of some improvements I’d like to make to my castles?”
“I would love to,” Izzie said before he’d even finished.
Realizing she’d perhaps sounded a little overeager, she was trying to think of a light reply when a loud rumble shattered the peaceful quiet hum of nature around them.
She started to look around. “What was that? It sounded—”
“Watch out!” He pushed her back against the wall of rock she’d just been admiring, pinning her body to it with his own.
The shock of sensation riveted her from head to toe. She’d never been in such intimate contact with a man before and everything about it seemed to strike her at once. He was warm, solid, and very muscular. Were it not for the heat and the way her body seemed to be melting into his, she might have thought she was being pressed betweentwostone walls.
He was wearing a mail shirt but it was the solid strength of the chest underneath that she was feeling. Every ridge, every bulge, every slab, every rock-hard inch—of which there seemed to be quite a lot. Not that she was complaining. He felt good.Reallygood. Flushed cheeks and weakened knees good.
Sensing her shock—and she hoped misinterpreting it—he tried to explain what was happening before her head cleared enough to ask.
“Slide…,” he started to say, but the rest of his words were drowned out by the crash of rock that rained down behind them like a deadly waterfall.
Good God! Had he not reacted as quickly as he had, she would have been crushed beneath all that. He’d saved her life—he really was a hero. The bones in her legs felt as if they’d turned to jelly. She would have slid to the ground had he not been holding her up.
Yet, through it all, he held himself like an iron cage over her. He wouldn’t let anything touch her. She was perfectly safe.
She knew that. It was the only reason to explain why she didn’t panic. Why she stood there calmly, concentrating on the hard warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the faint scent of rare cinnamon, while the ground reverberated and her teeth rattled with the force of the rockslide.
It lasted only a few seconds, though it felt much longer.
But when the din had faded and the dust had settled, he was still pressed against her.
The beat of his heart had been steady, but oddly she felt it pound harder now.
He turned his head enough to meet her gaze. Instinctively she sucked in her breath. There was something in his eyes she’d never seen before, but which she instinctively recognized.Desire. It washed over her—flooded her—with heat and awareness.
Awareness that made her heart start to pound and her body start to tingle when she felt him harden against her.
There was so much of him, it was impossible to miss. Rather than being shocked and offended, however, she became embarrassingly aroused. She flushed with heat, and a strange dampness rushed between her legs. Her body was coming alive with sensations that she couldn’t seem to control.
His eyes were dark and penetrating—almost as if he were looking for something.
Permission, she realized.He wants to kiss me.
Her heart jumped to her throat and seemed to pound in her ears. Her eyes were telling him no… weren’t they?
Apparently, they weren’t inclined to lie because a second later he was lowering his mouth to hers.
Her lips parted on their own, anticipation making her forget to breathe. The air was so thick and heavy between them; her body held captive by the tight grip of desire. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to, she realized. She wanted him to kiss her. And he did. Thoroughly. Magnificently. With every bit of finesse she would have expected from someone of his reputation. Was it any surprise that Sir Thomas Randolph kissed divinely? That his lips were warm and soft and heart-wrenchingly tender? That his breath was the perfect mix of hot male and warm spice—the cinnamon she’d smelled earlier.
He was a rogue, and he kissed like one.
And from the first touch of his lips to hers, Izzie knew she was in trouble. This wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever experienced. There was nothing delicate or chaste about the feel of his mouth on hers. It was searingly hot, achingly wicked, and thoroughly consuming.
The explosion of sensation shook her to the core and wouldn’t let go. It penetrated in a hot wave of pleasure that radiated through her body from her head to her toes and everywhere in between, concentrating in the place between her legs where he was now wedged even more firmly.
He felt so good that she pressed herself closer. The low groan—growl?—he made in response seemed to reverberate low in her belly.
It was amazing. And then it was ever more so. The sensations grew stronger as his mouth moved over hers. Softly at first—deftly—then with increasing intensity as his tongue filled her mouth. It hit her again. His tongue was in her mouth. She’d never…
