Instinctively, Marcus bent to her, meeting her halfway. So dangerous. But at that moment, he didn’t care. He wanted to comfort her as much as he needed to be comforted.
Her lips slid over his, igniting a burning inside him. A burning for her. She ran her tongue along his lips, and hunger surged through him as though he had been starving his entire life and finally found the food that would satisfy him. He tugged her closer until their bodies came together.
When she parted her lips, their tongues met and warred.
Desire flooded through him. He wanted her. All of her. He felt a bond with her that transcended physical need. She matched his strength, and he admired her. They were both outsiders in their families, and they needed to be a part of something special.
He peppered kisses across her jaw and down her neck.
She gasped slightly.
Her soft pant was an enticing drug that he longed to have more of. His hand trailed down her back and over her rounded bottom.
Oh, Lord. He wanted her so badly. More than he had ever wanted any woman. But she was a Hawke. He would have to let her go. He paused and pulled back to look down at her. Beneath the pale moonlight bathing her face, passion filled her lidded eyes. Her fully kissed lips were succulent, and she leaned up for more.
A Hawke, he thought again and hesitated. Her family would kill him. Her father would destroy him. He had to think of Rose. Of caring for her and supporting her.
Staring down at Sage, he realized she wanted this as much as he. It had nothing to do with her family. Still, he knew she was innocent. He didn’t want to hurt her. With a low groan, he separated from her. Every instinct in him wanted to return and sweep her up in his arms. And never let go.
He quickly stood and took a step back, his mind screaming she was dangerous.
The passion disappeared from her eyes, and she looked at him in confusion. She rose, looking to him for answers.
He was no monk, that was certain. He wanted to make love to her beneath the stars right now. And why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t pure. He wasn’t a saint. But he knew he had nothing to offer her. He already had one person to care for, and it was all he could do to keep enough jobs to give coin to Rose. What if Sage got pregnant? What if she turned him away as Cassandra had?
He had no one in his life. No one to trust. And he didn’t want to depend on her, only to have her abandon him. “We shouldn’t…”
She immediately shook her head. “No,” she agreed but quickly turned away.
He wanted to explain; he didn’t want her to leave, and he reached out to seize her arm. She yanked her arm free.
A beige, small item floated from her pocket to land on the dark ground. It gleamed in the moonlight.
Perplexed, Marcus reached for it.
Sage snatched it up and closed her fingers around it, preventing him from seeing the item.
He gazed at her. Her eyes were wide and round as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “What is that?”
“Um…” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She pocketed the item.
Marcus followed her. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.
Startled, her hands balanced on his chest.
His gaze moved over her face, searching for answers.
She licked her lips.
His hand dove into the pocket in her breeches before she could protest or move away. His fingers closed over some thick, small contents, and he pulled them out, releasing her.
She stumbled back and reached for his hand.
He pulled it away from her grasp and opened his fingers to glance down at the contents. Many small pieces of beige parchment glowed in the moonlight in his palm, very bright beneath the rays of the moon. Bewilderment washed over him amid tingles of familiarity. He had seen one of these before. At Gareth’s smithy. In the doorway. In the mud. His gaze snapped up to Sage, pinning her with fury.
She straightened. “I, um...I use those for ideas.”
His stare hardened. “You were leaving a trail.”
