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“Now what do we do?”

He looked up toward where the castle was located beyond the tree line, knowing he was a cad for what was about to happen next. The lass was quick, and this time she knew the destination. He smiled in anticipation of her reaction.

“Now,” he said, ensuring she was ready to leave. “We run.”

* * *

Still laughing as she caught up to him just outside the gatehouse, Clarissa chastised the man she’d previously thought more chivalric than any English knight.

“You bested me only because you cheated.”

Pulling her cloak back over her head, Clarissa followed Aidan to the entrance of her small chamber in the tower that had become her temporary home.

“Och, a harsh sentiment when I simply wanted to ensure you did not catch an early death.” Aidan pushed her gently into the room. “Go, warm up by the fire,” he said, turning as if to leave.

“What of you? Will you catch your own death on the way back to the keep?”

He winked, a boyish gesture that made him appear younger, especially when coupled with his wet, wavy hair.

“I will be fine,” he said, turning away again.

Clarissa did not want him to leave and told him so.

“You can warm yourself in here.”

Aidan’s grin fled from his face. “Clarissa, do you understand—”

“I understand I do not wish you to leave.” Well, she understood more than that, but it was all she was willing to put into words.

Aidan stood as still as a wooden pell, watching her. Waiting, but for what? For her to change her mind?

On this, I will not change course.

He looked back toward the direction they’d come, then at the fire that roared in the brazier Morgan had cleaned and prepared. He was going to leave, which was just as well.

He should leave.

But, may all the saints forgive her, she didn’t want him to.

He reached her in three strides, the door slamming behind him so powerfully Clarissa was sure it had cracked at the hinges. Whether she shivered from the cold, her wet shift, or his swift and sure movements as he released the cloak from her shoulders, Clarissa did not care.

He looked down for the briefest of moments, and the groan that escaped his lips ensured their path forward. She could no longer deny that Aidan de Sowlis was, and had always been, the man to whom she would give her favor. The only one.

Though she knew what he would do next, it was still a shock when he reached for the hem of her shift and lifted it over her head in one smooth movement. She wore nothing beneath it.

Clarissa was utterly and completely bare to his gaze.

“Oh God.”

His hands were everywhere at once. On her breasts, cupping and pinching as her mounds molded to his hands. She should be embarrassed, but her thoughts were elsewhere—Clarissa wanted to see him the same way, stripped bare. When his lips moved down her neck, she pulled up the shirt he’d already discarded once that evening, and thankfully, he obliged her by removing it.

And then he pressed up against her, his hard chest slamming against her breasts. Gasping, she was about to comment on the sensation when he drowned her response with a kiss so consuming that Clarissa forgot to breath. His tongue tousled with her own, and she moaned against him. In response, Aidan bit her lower lip, hard enough that she was nearly tempted to bite back.

But she couldn’t, for his fingers had found her core. Clarissa couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything other than will herself to remain standing. Without warning, those clever fingers entered her, his palm pressing against her as his fingers moved in rhythm with his mouth.

Oh dear God. I cannot take much more.

And yet she wanted more. She wanted it all.