Ah, hell. All of a sudden he realized two things at once. The dust was settling, she was safe, and he was living out one of his fantasies.
He had a lot of them.
But one of his favorites, especially in those first few months after leaving Douglas, had been seeing her in that white gown again and running his dirty hands all over her. What was it about all that pristine perfection that made him want to mess her up a little? That made him want to take his big, callused smith’s hands and slide them all over that flawless, milky-white skin?
He imagined her soft, naked body under his, their skin hot and slick as he drove into her again and again. He imagined that icy cool facade hot and flushed with pleasure—maybe a little sweaty—begging him to take her harder, rougher. He imagined her fingers digging into his shoulders, as urgent moans came apart in a violent scream. And after, he imagined her strewn over him, naked limbs twisted in the sheets with a messy, well-tumbled look on her face.
She wasn’t wearing white, but he was half-naked, sweaty, and her fingers were digging into his shoulders. With her under him, it was pretty damned easy to imagine everything else. He was thick and hard, and for one agonizingly perfect moment, he notched himself between her legs. Blood rushed and pounded. The urge to push—to thrust—was nearly overwhelming.
He raised his chest enough to look into her eyes. It was a mistake. Hers were filled with shock... and something else. Something that made him think—just for a moment—that he hadn’t been wrong. That what she felt for him was more than friendship. That she was just as aroused as he.
And that she was finally seeing him.
She cupped his jaw with one of her tiny hands, and it felt like a brand upon his skin. “You are always riding into my rescue, aren’t you, Thommy? How shall I reward you this time?”
It was a game they’d played as children.
Agame, damn it. Nothing had changed. Except that he’d outgrown games years ago.
He was about to tell her exactly how she could reward him—explicitly—when he heard a familiar voice say, “Get the hell off my sister, you filthy bastard!”
Saying she was stunned was putting it mildly. For a moment, Elizabeth forgot how to breathe. The air was trapped in her lungs somewhere near her heart, which also seemed to have come to a screeching halt. Apparently her head wasn’t working very well either, as the first thought that popped into it wasn’t relief at not lying crushed under a pile of rocks, but the inane realization that he was handsome.
She’d blinked a few times, trying to clear the confusion. But it wasn’t a mirage. The piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, hard cheekbones, broken-more-than-once nose, heavy brow, and not-quite-black hair were all Thommy, and he was undeniablyhandsome.
Breathtakingly so. And heart-stoppingly and head-confusingly so, as well. Good Lord, how had that happened?Whenhad that happened?
“Grateful to be alive” wasn’t her second thought either. Or her third, for that matter. The thoughts that followed were rather occupied by the awareness of the big, slightly sweaty, half-naked body on top of hers, which looked and felt about as hard and solid as all those rocks that had been about to tumble down on her, and that by all rights due to his sizeshouldbe crushing her but wasn’t. He actually felt good.Reallygood. Even though he was heavy and hot. As in standing-too-close-to-the-forge hot. Her fingers were practically burning as they dug in—or tried to dig in—to the steel ball of muscle on his upper arms.
God almighty, he was strong! She’d known that, of course. How could she not with as many times as she’d watched him work or do his chores? But it was quite a different thing to see it and another to experience it viscerally over every inch of her body.
Indeed, everything about what she was feeling right now was visceral. Her senses were heightened, her nerve endings prickling, her skin tight and sensitive, and hot. Did she mention hot? All over hot. Drenching hot. Rushing to strange parts of her body hot.
Good gracious, what was wrong with her?
It was only when she looked into his eyes that she felt her sense of equilibrium return. The familiar gaze gave her an anchor in a storm of confusion.
Thommy.
She sighed with relief and made a jest. A jest that from his expression hadn’t been received very well.
She was still trying to figure out what she’d said wrong this time, when her brother intruded.
Thommy was pulled off her, and she was left... bereft. Not to mention cold and strangely let down.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Jamie shouted at Thommy.
There were very few men who could appear completely nonplussed to have the Black Douglas shouting at them, but Thommy was one of them. Even as a youth, he would stand up to Jamie in a way that none of the other village boys dared. He would face him just the way he was right now, with a calm, expressionless look on his face that drove Jamie crazy. Though there was nothing outwardly challenging or defiant, simply by the level of control it was exactly that.
He was a rock. Solid, steady, and unflappable. No matter how much Jamie egged him on to fight back—no matter how angry Elizabeth could sense Thommy was—he never would. At least that’s the way it had been in Douglas and before the argument that had ended their friendship. But now, she wondered if something had changed.
This time, Thommy broke his stoic facade with a cocked brow. “What did it look like I was doing?”
There was a subtle taunt in his voice that Elizabeth didn’t understand. But Jamie did. He made a sound low in his throat like a growl and moved toward Thommy. “I’m going to kill you, I don’t care what Carrick says.”
After getting herself to her feet—the two men were too busy breathing fire to remember her—Elizabeth stopped him. “Wait, Jamie!” She stepped in front of Thommy, who was still standing there lazily with his arms crossed in front of him, as if he didn’t have a care in the world (especially that he was a moment away from having Jamie’s fist in his jaw). “He was saving my life, that’s what he was doing,” she said. She moved her hand, gesturing to the rocks all strewn around their feet. “Did you happen to miss the wall that just came down? Well, it would have been on my head had Thommy not pushed me out of the way.” She bit her lip, turning around to face Thommy. She had to dip her head back to look up. “Are you hurt?”
He held her gaze for a long heartbeat. There was an intensity there that she couldn’t decipher. She would have given almost anything at that moment to know his thoughts.
