Page 8 of Highland Warrior
Blinking down at the offered fare, shock and something else entirely clouded her vision with moisture. Behind that was panic. Where was this coming from? Why did she suddenly have a lump in her throat so big she was unable to form words of thanks? And just how in the hell could she seduce a man if she was a sobbing mess?
If she failed, she’d go back to the void. She needed to pull herself together.
Now.
“Why?” she whispered before she could stop herself, hating that her voice was tight with tears.
“Why, what?”
She didn’t look up from her lap, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her knees. “If you do not want to lie with me, why are you being so kind?”
His big, warm hand reached out to cup her cheek, and he guided her face to turn toward him, his green eyes as sharp as cut emeralds and twice as brilliant in the firelight. “I’m kind because I am a Druid and yer king, and therefore kindness is not just my responsibility, but my way of life.” He dropped his hand from her cheek then, but his next words reached so deep, they seared her very bones. “But make no mistake, lass, I want to take ye in ways that would wipe the word ‘kind’ from yer thoughts of me.”
Her breath caught around a lump in her throat made of half emotion, and half elation. “Then, take me,” she whispered.
“It wouldna be right,” he forced through clenched teeth, his eyes those of a warrior valiantly fighting a losing battle.
“I need…” She didn’t dare say it. Couldn’t put into words what it was he made her want. She had to lie with him in order to take his powers, but this was the first time in a long time, maybe ever, that she truly wanted to.
Which made Malcolm de Moray more dangerous than she’d ever considered.
Through with words, she rose on her knees, and undid the ties of her garment, letting it fall to the earth beneath her. Malcolm regarded her from those jewel green eyes like one would an approaching viper. Which was closer to the truth than she’d like to admit.
His nostrils flared, and his fists clenched at his sides, but he remained where he was, obviously locked in a battle with his decency. His eyes devoured her like a starving man at a feast, but he didn’t make one move toward her.
Decency be damned.Once he realized who she was and what she’d done to him, he’d wish he’d left her in the woods to rot.
Firmly pushing that thought to the side, she reached for him, sliding her hands up his shoulders and around his neck to lock behind him, pulling his head down to hers.
Her lips pressed against his, but Vían didn’t have control of the situation for long.
Malcolm dragged her hard against his body in a deep, starving kiss. With a groan of surrender, he plunged his tongue into her welcoming mouth with a thrusting rhythm that set her loins on fire.
She’d have to try very hard to keep her wits about her. Already, her legs were beginning to fail, becoming weak enough that she leaned into him. Once he felt her submission, he lowered them to her furs and stretched his hard body above her supple one.
He whispered a few unfamiliar words against her mouth and the packed earth beneath her thin bedding suddenly became soft and fragrant with flora.
“Magick,” she marveled aloud.
“Like yer skin,” he murmured against her, before taking her mouth again. One moment his hot, silky tongue tangled with hers, the next he was nibbling and sucking at her lips, teasing her with alternating pleasures.
She shifted so her thighs could split beneath him, cradling that swollen, needy part of him against her sex. His clothes still separated them, but he ground against her instinctively, and Vían hissed at the intensity of the sensation.
Hungry for more of him, she lifted the hem of his shirt and wordlessly demanded that he help her peel it away.
The firelight threw shadows into the groves and valleys of his sinewed frame. He was light-skinned and fine, like the marble statues in the Roman ruins.
Vian stared as he lifted himself to sweep away his kilt and boots.
He stared at her, too. His eyes traveled her smooth skin and latched onto the apex of her parted thighs which she shamelessly bared to him.
“I’ve never seen a woman of yer like,” he breathed. “Ye’re so fucking beautiful.”
He gave her the compliment with such ferocity, she had to hide behind her lashes for a moment and gather her strength.
He was beautiful, as well. Not in the lovely way a woman was, but in a raw-boned, utilitarian way. Each swell and dip and angle fashioned for power and purpose.
And all that power was about to be unleashed upon her.
