Page 115 of Song of the Dark Wood

“I’m afraid I’m not thirsty this evening. What can I do for you?” she said coldly.

“Perhaps I should ask what I can do for you, lass. You seem tense.”

Rowan looked ready to slap him. Conor met her fury with flirtation because he was uncomfortable with the weight of his affection for her. He knew he was already too far gone. Humor was the only bit of levity left in him.

“I don’t see how that’s your concern,” Rowan sighed. She kept her gaze militantly focused on the fireplace behind him.

He took a step closer to her, and she held perfectly still. Another step, and her gaze flew to his. One more, and shestumbled back, bumping against the sitting room wall. Her anger faltered momentarily, her gaze dropping to his lips.

Conor struck like a viper. He pressed his body flush to hers and kissed her feverishly. Her anger only made his desire for her more intense, her scent more tantalizing. He wanted her so badly.

Rowan was just as swept up. She poured every bit of rage into the kiss, all while he poured in every bit of contrition and sorrow. Her fingernails dug into the nape of his neck, and he groaned.

She tensed and shoved him away, then slapped him—surprisingly hard.

“Stop playing with me, Conor,” she said, blinking back tears. “I’m a person, not a toy you can wind up for your amusement.”

He’d taken it too far. He’d hurt her worse. He had nothing to say. He stared at her, wondering how he’d managed to screw up so spectacularly so quickly.

“Is that all, or do you need further services?” Rowan asked. He saw the genuine worry on her face.

She actually thought he’d make her service him after rejecting her and hurting her as badly as he could. He might have behaved monstrously to protect her, but it still stung that she thought he could be that type of cruel.

“Rowan, I can explain everything?—”

“Yes or no?” she interrupted. She blinked furiously, trying to stave off tears. He wished he could hold her.

“No, I don’t need anything else,” he rasped.

The truth of his feelings choked him even as he was desperate to share them. Even if he hid the words with silence, it made them no less true. He was in love with Rowan Cleary.Love. Not an imitation or obsession. He felt the kind of love that stole his breath when she laughed, made him want to burn the world down when she cried—and that made him the most dangerous thing in the world to her.

Instead of saying what he really wanted, he bit his tongue to keep silent.

“Good,” she said. She turned and grabbed her cloak from the chair where she’d tossed it, then stormed out of the keep without bothering to even pause and button it.

He waited a few moments before starting after her, but when he came to the gates, he found nothing but silence and her small footprints in the snow.

Charlie appeared at his shoulder. “Con, you should know. Her aura was back to normal.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible?” Conor asked.

Charlie shrugged. “I have no idea. I only know it’s true.”

Conor stared down the path toward Ballybrine. He wanted to go grab Rowan and bring her back to his keep where he could be certain she was all right, but after his cruelty, that was impossible.

“I’ll follow her home,” Charlie said.

Conor nodded and watched the reaper tear off down the trail toward Ballybrine, leaving him alone with the soft patter of snowflakes on his now-living garden and the thought that he’d only succeeded in making things worse.

That night,Conor woke with a start. His sheets were soaked with sweat and his brother’s face was fresh in his mind.

After Rowan left, he had forced himself to rest for the simple fact that it would put him out of his profound misery for an hour or two.

That was a mistake. A strange sinking feeling filled his chest, a queasiness settling in his gut.

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