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“Knew well that Caiser is a friend to Clave. Do lead the way.”
Emma.
They turned the corner and froze.
“Leave us,” he said to the groom, who seemed all too eager to do just that. With a quick nod of his head, he hurried off.
Emma’s expression matched Garrick’s own feelings at seeing her.
“Caiser may be a friend to Clave, but he’d never let a stranger approach without escort. Even a lone woman.” He reached her in three strides. “Most especially a woman.”
He took her arm and guided her in the direction he’d been headed.
“Am I a threat then?”
He couldn’t stop looking at her. “You are.”
More than she realized. He’d best concentrate on getting them to the training yard. It wasn’t far, and since he’d given his men the day off, a rare boon in honor of their guests, the armory should be abandoned.
Garrick couldn’t reach the building fast enough, though he did wish he had somewhere more fitting to bring her. The small stone structure would be dark and cold, hardly a place for a heartfelt reunion.
“I’ve never been considered a threat before,” she said.
He pushed open the door.
Empty.
Garrick closed it with one hand and pulled her toward him with the other. “Very dangerous indeed.”
He kissed her passionately, wanting to devour her, wanting to make her his in every way. He’d done just that in his dream the night before, and the memories rose up. When he grasped both sides of her face, her hood fell back, exposing the mass of black waves.
“I need you, Emma,” he murmured against her lips.
Their heavy cloaks made it impossible to get close, but Garrick needed more. She opened for him and their tongues danced together. His cock strained, hard and willing, desperate to be inside her. Her full lips slanted across his own as the pressure grew. It was like the rising tide washing away every remnant of the shore, consuming every last grain of sand.
Something snapped in him, and reality intruded on their unexpected reunion. “Are you alone?” How had he not thought of that earlier? “Did you really come here without escort?”
She pulled back, startled. “You’re angry?”
“Nay, love. Never. Surprised. Worried. But not angry.”
“I had to come.”
“You could have gotten—”
“Nay, I can’t bear to hear such talk from you too. Just kiss me, please.”
He didn’t need another invitation. Garrick did kiss her then and guided her toward an empty patch of wall. The clang of an errant sword rang out against the silence.
He kicked it aside and opened her cloak, remembering the dream clearly. Her bright blue eyes watched him. Part of the dream was off-limits to them, of course, until he settled the situation, but he could enact the rest of it with her. He’d shock her, likely, but the memory would be branded in her mind.
Garrick tore off his glove. He wanted to move slowly, give her time to adjust, but as his fingers brushed the soft white fur of her cloak, he thought of how she would feel and taste beneath his lips. Garrick knelt beneath her.
“What in God’s teeth are you doing?”
He looked up to a bewildered Emma, whose face had looked much more confused in his dream. “I dreamed of you last night.” Every night, in fact.
Garrick lifted both her gown and the shift beneath it.
