That kiss had awakened a fire in her belly that she had considered beneath her until that afternoon. Kissing another equally attractive man would just prove that the heat she had felt was not dependent on the man himself, but on her own biology.
Just as she splayed her fingers across his cheek and he jerked forward, Darragh burst into the room.
There was no denying it; she was irrevocably and undeniably attracted to him. Her eyes traced his rolled sleeves up to the crook of his elbow, then slid to the deep plunge of his shirt, which exposed dark tufts of hair. She had felt that chest beneath her palm, those tufts of hair.
Her heart beat erratically in her chest. She could not hear a thing other than the fast, heavy thuds, so when Darragh’s mouth moved, she could only guess what he was saying.
“Get off her!”
She felt a hand uncoil around her waist. She had not realized Ewen had placed it there, nor must Darragh have been aware of it. His gaze followed that hand as he took a heavy step forward.
Ewen took his time rising, but she was rooted to the spot, as if petrified.
“Laird McGhee, it is a pleasure to finally meet ye,” he said too coolly for someone who had just been caught in an uncompromising position with a man’s ward.
“How dare ye come into me castle and attack me ward!” Darragh looked ready to pounce on him, holding back only because of some moral scruple.
Ewen was smaller and would undoubtedly lose, were he to attack. Darragh had muscles, where he had thick velvet jackets. Darragh had sweat and grime, where he had perfumes.
“If someone else had discovered ye, ye would have been forced to wed.”
Ewen did not cower beneath his ire. “Isnae that me purpose here? To marry her?” he asked defiantly.
“She would never be forced to marry the likes of ye.”
“Why nae?”
“If ye daenae want to get in trouble, ye should get out.” The brooch at Darragh’s shoulder caught the light, glistening as if in agreement.
Talia wanted to protest, but her voice failed her.
Ewen’s lips pressed into a thin line. So that was how Apollo looked when angered.
He bowed over her hand. “It’s been me pleasure.” Then he left.
It was only then that Darragh looked at her.
She was not dressed in any of the garments he’d bought for her, only a plain white shirt that went up to her ears and a nude colored skirt. The shirt had a crescent cut above the bust, as if to draw attention to her chest. Her skirt cinched at the waist and flared around her hips. She had pinned a blossomed sprig of hawthorn above her breast; she did not think he noticed.
His eyes raked over her with an intensity that made him look more threatening than Ewen, narrowing on her chest, which was now heaving. The feeling was back: the flush, the perspiration, the self-consciousness, the desire.
“Ye had nay right to ruin this.” She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist.
If he had been worried about her, it was long gone now. He looked as though he’d accepted the role she’d played in hernear defilement, the charade of guardian and innocuous ward forgotten.
“How can ye be so naïve?” She wanted his hand in her hair. “Why would ye think it wise to be alone with a man like that?” Around her neck. “What if I hadnae come just now?” On her breasts. “Would ye have let him kiss ye?”
She desired him in every way, but felt a strong need to antagonize him. “And more!”
Whatever restraint he had left seemed to have snapped. She backed away. His fury burned through her courage. She became like a cowering puppy, unable to stay still in the presence of its master.
“Ye will never see him again.”
“Who are ye to decide who I would or wouldnae share me bed with?”
Wrong move.
He was on her before she could catch her breath. His hands were on either side of her face, cradling her possessively. The heat from his palms traveled down her neck to her chest, which felt ready to combust.
