He began his questioning in English despite his suspicions of her Romany heritage.
“Who are you and what were you doing on my land?”
Chapter Nine
Haven jumped from her skin. His deep voice was sending ripples of alarm through her blood, and with it…something wicked simmered in her veins.
Oh. My.
The god of anger and beauty stood before her like a stormy hulk. With dark blond hair, black eyes, black clothes, and a black mood, this man exuded danger, making her uncomfortable beneath his intense scrutiny.
She couldn’t answerhisquestion when she couldn’t even answer her own.
Her heart pounded.
“Youwillanswer,” he growled. Impatience ticked a muscle in his jaw—a jaw she couldn't help but admire for its sharpness. It could cut glass, and the dark stubble shading it made him look all the more sinister...and gorgeous.
She resented his tone. She hadn’t asked to be on his land, chased like a chocolate cake at a fat camp, or tackled and lodged between a rock and a hard…place.
Ignoring the pain racing through her skull, she drew up and looked him in the eye.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was husky and raspy, not at all how she wanted to sound. “Who the hell areyou, and where the hell amI?” An itch tickled along her arms and abdomen, and she looked down. “Where aremyclothes?”
A startled look appeared on the man’s face. Apparently, he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Stepping closer to the edge of the bed, he towered at his full height. His eyes narrowed to slits of onyx indignation, and his lips thinned into twin lines of enmity.
Bring it on, asshole!
“How dare you speak to me with such irreverence?Youwere the one skulking around in my pastures. Where are my sheep?”
A snort of surprised disbelief erupted from her.
“What?” She sat straighter in the bed, clinching her fists at her sides. “First of all, I wasn’t stealing sheep; I mean, look at me, does it look like I can pick up a full-grown ewe and haul it to my diabolical lair? Second, I had no idea I was in your pasture; it’s dark as pitch outside, who wouldn’t get turned around and lost in the middle of nowhere? And third, I still have no ideawhoyou are, so showing you respect depends on whether I give a damn—and with how this conversation started, I’m leaning toward you being about as deserving of my respect as a slug.”
With great difficulty,Logan kept his jaw from hitting the floor. Her eyes flashed jade fire, and her abundant chest rose and fell with barely restrained fury. Not even the modest and practical frock Mrs. Roomer provided could hide the lusciousness of the woman’s bosom.
Dear God, she was glorious. Her husky voice rippled over him, and her startling beauty caused blood to rush to the surface of his skin, and into the length of his shaft. The temperature in the room rose, and the placket of his trousers grew uncomfortably tight. Shifting his stance, he fought the urge to adjust his bollocks. Repressing his rampant emotions and raging libido, he glared down at her.
Trying to form his words around his clinched jaw, he ground out, “You expect me to believe you? I know your people have set up camp on the other side of the estate, and since then, my sheep have gone missing from the pasture where I found you. You were standing feet from my sheep, you ran from me, and you dare to act as if I hadn’t caught you in the act.”
His gaze caught on her hands. She flexed, grasping and flattening her fingers against the bed coverings. He fought the urge to cover and hold her hands against his heated skin. He needed a long, hard run into a frigid lake.
“Let me get this straight,” she began. “You assume that because I was standing in your pasture next to your sheep, Imusthave been there to steal one? Yeah, I was in a pasture in the middle of nowhere at night, but maybe I got lost, or was catching fireflies, or playing hide-and-go-seek with the moon. No offense, buddy, but assuming I intended to steal your sheep is an accusation lacking in the evidence department.” She looked him in the eye, and asked, “What do you mean,your people?”
He took a deep breath. “As if you didn’t know. Your clothes, your hair, your coloring—you’re Roma.”
The look of incredulity that sprang to her face was almost enough to make him rethink. Almost.
“What?” Her voice rose in pitch and volume, her face drew up into a mask of fury, and her nostrils flared. “You assume from my clothes, my hair, and my coloring that I’m a Gypsy?” The olive skin of her cheeks turned a deep red.
“Don’t forget the fact you were scampering around in the dark on someone else’s property.”
“That has to be the most blatant example of racial profiling I’ve ever heard.” She sat forward, letting the comforter fall to her waist, exposing her glorious assets to him. God, not even sackcloth and ashes could disguise this woman’s natural charms.
“Why would my race even matter? I told you before; I didn’t know I was on your land. I ran from you because, well hell, any woman seeing a giant black demon chasing her in the dark would run for her life.”
True.
The muscles ticked along his jaw. “Your vulgarity speaks of your heritage, even if your words deny it.”
