He exited the carriage. Everard climbed in and slammed the door shut.
“Have you lost your mind?” I demanded. “This isn’t Wilkair! You can’t just leave the joedurar and ride like a wild man across the city. Not only that but you’ve endangered—”
He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to him.
“Ramond . . .”
He kissed me.
My heart fluttered in my chest. I was suddenly flying, exhilarated and terrified at the same time, and I didn’t know how to stop.
It was possessive and intense and unbelievably, searingly hot. He kissed me like I belonged to him, and he couldn’t get enough. Like he would kill anyone who dared to interrupt.
His tongue slid between my lips and touched mine, stroking, tasting . . . This wasn’t a kiss, this was sex. He was making love to my mouth, and I took him in like I needed him to live. The heat of him, the scent of him, the heady taste, the feel of those powerful arms embracing me, it was too much. He destroyed me. I forgot where I was. There was no thinking anymore, no fear, no doubt, only the irresistible need in my body and the fireworks in my soul.
He broke the kiss. I was breathless. My head spun.
He looked at me with those wicked green eyes. If he kissed me again, I would strip him naked in this damn carriage.
He pushed the door open, took my hand, and pulled me out onto the street. We were in front of our house. He led me through the tunnel. Some part of my brain registered the familiar faces—Clover, the Magnars . . . Behind us, Everard’s knights loomed.
“She does not leave this house,” Everard ordered in his Sleepless Duke voice. “Nobody comes in, nobody goes out.”
Reality slammed into me. My brain restarted in a cold rush.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
He turned to me.
“Last I checked, I was a free woman. I will go out whenever I want.”
Everard looked at Clover. “Take your lady to her rooms.”
She bit her lip but didn’t move.
“Did you not hear me, Clover?” Everard asked.
“Do not take a step,” I told her.
Will and Lute moved to flank Clover.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Gort growled.
Will ignored him. “My lady made her wishes known, Your Grace.”
Lute put his hand on his sword.
“You seem to think that you can order my people around,” I said. “You’ve forgotten where you are. This is not Selva.”
Behind us two of Everard’s knights walked through the tunnel.
“Maggie,” he started, a warning in his voice.
“Lady Demarr. This is not your house, Your Grace. We are not your people. Do not presume that you have any power here.”
Black smoke slithered from him across the courtyard, writhing like a living thing.
“I guess Solentine was right,” I said. “No man wants Arvel as a rival.”
