Her brows drew together. The moments before the attack were coming back to her. How did he know the wolves were going to attack? It was the same as at the cliff. It was almost as if he knew what was going to happen, as if he'd sensed it before he should have.
Dear Lord,he had. Her eyes widened, and her gaze jerked to his. Did that explain the strange intensity she'd sensed simmering under the surface? She'd attributed it to watchfulness and keen observation, but was it something more?
She took a step backward and covered her mouth with her hand. "Youknew."
* * *
Arthur tensed, muscles clenched, as he braced himself for the fear. For the revulsion that always came on the rare occasions when someone caught a glimpse of his unusual abilities. Even his own parents had looked at him like that.
As a boy, he'd tried to pretend he wasn't different. He'd tried to explain. Tried to make them understand that he wasn't some kind of freak--that his senses were sharper, his awareness heightened, his skill at observation and perception keener, but that was all. He didn't see the future. He didn't have premonitions.
It was more an inkling.
But after a while he'd stopped trying to explain. It was easier not to deal with it at all. So he kept to himself, and didn't allow people close enough to give them a chance to guess.
He was different, he knew now. He'd been blessed with extraordinary abilities. Being alone didn't bother him--hell, he preferred it that way.
But Anna MacDougall wouldn't let him be. He was trying to resist, but she kept dragging him in. And now she'd seen something that she shouldn't have.
Though he was prepared for her reaction, her involuntary step back stung. His lungs filled with fire. He pretended not to hear her question and started back toward the horses.
What the hell did he care what she thought? He should be glad to be rid of her.
"Wait," she said, chasing after him. "Why are you angry?"
He didn't look at her, but kept walking. "I'm not angry."
He only sounded that way.
"Wait," she repeated, grabbing his arm. "I want to talk about what just happened."
Why the hell did she always have to touch him? He jerked his arm from her grasp but made the mistake of glancing down at her face.
"God damn it, stop looking at me like that," he growled.
His vehemence startled her, which was good, as it got rid of the hurt.
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like I just stepped on that puppy of yours."
She lifted her chin, her eyes sparking dangerously. "You'll have to forgive me; I didn't realize you had such a strong aversion to my touch. I'll try to remember it in the future."
Was the lass daft? He'd laugh if he wasn't so furious. Aversion to her touch? It should be the other way around. She should be cringing away from him, not touching him. And certainly not looking hurt for him jerking away. What the hell was the matter with her?
She wasn't acting the way she was supposed to. Even Catherine, the woman who'd professed to love him, had refused to be in the same room with him after he'd pushed her out of the way of a stone corbel that fell where she'd been standing a moment before.
Perhaps Anna hadn't guessed.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable; it's just that what you did back there was remarkable."
She'd guessed all right. But that sure as hell couldn't be admiration he read in her gaze.
He clenched his jaw. "I fought off a few wolves--anyone could have done as much. You make too much of it. Come. Robby will be wondering what has happened to us."
If he'd thought to put her off, he'd failed. "It was more than that and you know it. The wolves were too far away for you to have heard them. Yet you knew they were coming. You sensed it before any normal--"
He flinched. Even after more than twenty years of it, he still flinched. That angered him more than anything else. He grabbed her arm and hauled her close to him, bringing her mouth only inches from his. Even through the anger he felt the bolt of gut-wrenching, mind-numbing lust.
