Page 2 of The Gathering Storm

Moira punched her fists into the air and wiggled her butt. “Carolina wins, and that’s a night of sitting when the babe gets here.”

“Let’s go two for three.”

“Oy, there, Sigrid. A deal’s a deal and there’ll be no wiggling out of it.”

“Who’s wiggling?”

Moira jabbed her finger at Sigrid’s sternum. “That’d be the one, right there.”

Sigrid stared down her nose at the smaller Daughter. “I’m a cheat now?”

“Aye and a right good one. Would it kill ye to give me a night out with me Tom?”

Sigrid gritted her teeth together. “I wasn’t trying to wiggle—”

Moira’s hands bunched into fists at her sides and she stepped up toe to toe with Sigrid, unmindful of the half-foot difference in their heights. “Liar.”

Sigrid shoved two fingertips into Moira’s shoulder. “Half-wit.”

Moira’s shoulder twisted around. She popped back into her former position and pushed Sigrid into the person standing behind her. “If I’m a half-wit, ye’re a bloody fool, ye lily-livered, fog-brained, goat-faced hag.”

Sigrid sucked in a breath. “I am not lily-livered. You take that back.”

Moira stuck her dainty chin out. “Why don’t you make me, ye yellow-spined coward?”

A red haze descended over Sigrid. Nobody called her a coward, nobody. She snapped her fist back, preparing to punch. A hard hand wrapped itself around her upper arm, holding her firmly in place. She swiveled around and came face to face with the bartender.

“I said no fighting.”

Sigrid yanked at her arm. “Stay out of this, barkeep.”

He stared her down, one hand wrapped around her arm, the other loose at his side, his even features set in a hard mask. “My bar, my rules. You don’t like them, there’s the door.”

“Run away now, coward,” Moira sneered.

Sigrid jabbed her elbow back and missed. Damn it, where had the little firebrand gone?

The barkeep snagged Sigrid’s other arm and yanked her against his chest. “No fighting,” he gritted out, and his mouth came down on hers, hot and hard and demanding.

Her anger over Moira’s smart mouth evaporated into incredulity. Who did this upstart think he was, assaulting a Daughter of her breeding and reputation? She’d plowed through so many men just like him, she couldn’t even remember all their names, and he thought he could tame her with a simple kiss?

The very idea was laughable.

He yanked away from her, breaking the kiss.

She wriggled her shoulders. “Let me—”

“When you calm down,” he said, and he slid his mouth across hers again, softer, less urgently.

A slow thrum of heat tripped into her blood. It had been months since she’d allowed a man to kiss her, months more since wicked desire had heated her loins. Perhaps she could give this man a moment more before she lashed out and taught him a lesson. She relaxed against him. Why not? One kiss wouldn’t kill her and it would lure him into dropping his guard. She could deal with him after she’d taken her pleasure and pay the requisite fines on the morrow, if the resultant damage was great enough and his kin insisted.

He hummed against her mouth and shifted his grip, one masculine hand cupping her nape, the other at her waist. His lips were supple against hers, giving, and his tongue darted out, testing the seam of her lips.

Heat threaded steadily through her, growing inch by inch, and the noise around them faded. She parted her lips, inviting him in, and gripped his hips over low-waisted jeans. He was warm against her, solid, and patient in his explorations. His tongue dipped into her mouth, teasing her, and he nipped her lower lip.

Desire stuttered to life inside her and her skin tingled. Oh, he was good, so good, and deliciously sweet. She flicked her tongue out. Mint and chocolate mingled together in his mouth, and she tasted him again and again, eagerly sampling what he willingly offered.

His hand tightened on her nape, and a moment later, he eased away and stared down at her, his light green gaze oddly dispassionate. “Next time, you’re out.”

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