He didn't want to hear her, didn't want to acknowledge what was impossible. She was Lorn's daughter. They were on opposite sides. Damn her, he didn't feel anything. "I thought I made myself clear on the ride back from the village."
Her eyes flashed. "I heard what you said. But I felt something different."
He felt a spark of rage and jerked her against him. "What you felt was lust." He molded her to him, letting her feel the hard power of his body. "Is this what you want, Anna?"
She gasped and tried to break free, like a bird fluttering in a cage, but he wouldn't let her go. Not this time. She'd tormented him long enough. She needed to learn that this was not a game. That her interference was dangerous in more ways than one. It wasn't just the threat to his mission. She was a lady, and what he wanted from her was something she could not give.
"Let go of me." Her eyes searched his face wildly. "You're scaring me."
He slid his hand around her throat, quieting the flutter of her pulse with his thumb. "Good." God knew she scared the hell out of him.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers and gave in to the desire that had been twisting inside him like a maelstrom waiting to unleash.
Nine
Arthur crushed her mouth to his, kissing her hard, wanting to punish her for doing this to him. Tempting him. Distracting him. For being so damned sweet. He wanted to teach her a lesson.
But at the first touch of her lips, he felt as though he'd been slammed in the chest with a hammer. The hard shock of sensation felled his anger in one swift stroke. Desire washed over him, filling him with an intense yearning.
Jesus. She tasted like heaven. Her lips were so damned soft. Her skin so damned fragrant. And her hair--God, her glorious hair--he let the silky waves wind through his fingers. It was unreal.
Shewas unreal. An angel sent to torment him.
He groaned and relaxed his hold, softening his kiss, and eased into her again. Slow and easy this time. Cradling her against him and molding his lips to hers gently. Drawing. Tasting. Savoring the exquisite sensation of her mouth moving under his.
It was incredible. Even sweeter than he could have imagined--if he'd ever dared let himself imagine this. From the first moment he'd cast eyes on Anna MacDougall he'd wanted her, but he'd refused to allow himself to think it possible.
Hell, it wasn't possible. It was wrong. Dangerous. Doomed. He shouldn't be doing this. But he couldn't make himself stop.
It was only a kiss, he told himself. Something he'd done countless times before. Nothing he couldn't control.
But it didn't feel like any kiss he'd had before.
Feel. That was the difference. Usually he didn't. For him, a kiss was a means to an end--something expected before the main act, not something to evoke pleasure in itself.
But kissing her was bringing him pleasure. Too much pleasure.
Something was wrong with him. His body wasn't reacting the way it should to a simple kiss. He was on fire. And why the hell was his heart beating so fast?
Lust was something that could be controlled. Managed. Other women had made him hot, but not even when he'd been a squire about to swive his first maid had he been this consumed by need. He was hard. Aching. Hotter than he'd ever been in his life.
At least lust was understandable. What he didn't understand was this other feeling. The feeling that swelled in his chest and made his heart feel as if it were going to explode. The feeling that gave him the overwhelming urge to protect her. To treasure and take care of her.
The feeling that made him want to hold on to her and never let go.
The intensity of his reaction should have warned him. But he was too busy reveling in sensation, inhaling her sweet perfume, winding his fingers through her silky locks of hair, and savoring the softness of her skin against his, to listen.
All he could think about was the woman melting in his arms who could never be his.
For one heart-stopping moment Anna feared she'd pushed him too far. The look in his eyes before he'd kissed her had terrified her. She caught a glimpse of a man she'd never seen before. Not the remote, controlled knight, but a wild, untamed warrior. A man who was far more dangerous than she'd realized.
The fierceness of his kiss shocked her. It was as if all the dark energy she'd sensed simmering under the surface and held in check exploded in one fell embrace. She could feel his anger in the punishing harshness of his mouth.
Perhaps she should have been scared, but even if he were angry and out of control, she knew he would never hurt her. How she could be so certain she didn't know, but she was.
Then before she could react, before the shock had faded from her limbs, before she could think how good he tasted--like cloves and something dark and distinctly male--everything changed.
He groaned, and it was as if all the anger seeped out of him. The kiss meant to punish now entreated. The embrace meant to crush now cradled her as gently as if she were a babe. Where he would have ravaged with passion, now he devastated with a tenderness of which she could never have imagined this big, fierce warrior capable.
