Clad in nothing more than her chemise, Christiana slept on her side, one slender arm curled around a pillow she clutched to her breast, one shapely leg stretched out, freed from the confines of the garment that twisted around her body.
He reached out a trembling hand to trace a finger along the soft white limb, from her ankle to the back of her knee and beyond, onto the smooth, warm skin of her thigh.
She moaned in response to his touch, the sound flushing his body with heat. In that heat, the beast within began to stir.
Stilling his hand, he leaned down over her, to whisper into her ear.
“Wake up, little sister. I have need of you.”
Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal the brilliant blue of their shared ancestors, the haze of sleep giving way first to surprise and then to fear.
“Torquil.” Her voice shook with the latter emotion and her leg twitched under his touch. “What are you doing here?”
Fed by Christiana’s fear, the beast fully awakened, requiring his attention to maintain control. He breathed through the moment, lifting his hand from the heat he desired to explore.
“No, Christiana, the better question is, what areyoudoing here?”
She pulled the pillow closer to her breast as if it were a shield. “The woman, Halldor’s prisoner, is in my tower.”
He’d almost forgotten the wench, though the beast within roared its need for revenge at mention of her. He’d certainly forgotten that she dwelt in Christiana’s tower. No doubt Halldor’s use of the woman was troubling to his sister.
“And so you sought refuge here, in your mother’s chambers.” In the rooms his father would have visited regularly.
“These were my chambers for many years.”
“So they were,” he murmured holding her gaze with his own.
They had indeed been her quarters, the rooms where she spent her nights. Until his father’s demise. Until the time when he could no longer resist the temptations of flesh she presented, and he’d banished her to the tower across the courtyard.
He reached for her hand, tightening his fingers around hers when she would have pulled away. “I grow weary of waiting for you. I’d have you travel to Skuld’s world for me now.”
“But I canna,” she began as he pulled her from the bed. “The herbs I need are in my tower. You ken I’ve no the ability to direct the Vision without—”
“Then we go to yer tower.”
He was having no more of her excuses or delays this time.
She dawdled with her overdress, running herhands over the cloth until he ripped it from her grasp and threw it to the floor.
“Now!” he insisted, capturing her wrist to drag her forward, slowing only to scoop up her cloak from the floor.
Not that he really cared if she suffered the indignity of crossing the courtyard in nothing but her chemise. It was only that neither he nor the beast felt particularly open to other eyes feasting upon what belonged to them.
He all but dragged her behind him, down the stairs and out the entrance, ignoring the servants’ openmouthed stares.
Christiana wisely held her tongue, as if she recognized the force within him driving him forward.
Inside her tower, he tore the cloak from her shoulders and tossed it at their feet.
“Where is the elixir?”
“In my bedchamber,” she whispered, keeping her eyes averted from his. “I’ll go get it.”
“No!” he roared.
Or perhaps it was the beast who roared; he couldn’t be sure as he wrapped one arm around her waist, guiding her up the narrow winding stairs ahead of him. Up to the room at the very top of the tower.
“Now,” he said, his voice once again his own as he forced himself to release his hold on her.
