Page 11 of Highland Secret
“Don’t be angry.” She kept her plea level and soft, swallowing a surge of dread as he stalked closer. “I – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that… I’d never…”
He paused, cocking his head to the side in a now familiar gesture. Bristling like a great cat, his nostrils flared and he examined her with his cold, black eyes like a curious specimen.
Dear God. The thrill of her first orgasms still pulsing in her veins spiked even higher as she imagined all kinds of terrible ends for her in the clutches of this monster. Why did excitement tangle with her panic? She’d always feared death and avoided danger. Feared there was nothing after for her but bitter judgment and possible damnation for the things she’d done.
For whom she was.
Yet this creature had nothing to do with all that. He was a creation of a different deity. He existed as a holy cleric of some other, more ancient order. He wasn’t bishop, templar, monk, or confessor.
He was an executioner.
His presence forged the outcomes of war and established the conqueror from the conquered. Though he subjugated no one, his sword drew the lines of possession in the soil, and then cut down the opposition. A berserker didn’t discriminate. He killed everyone.
He won’t kill me.Like all her knowledge, Evelyn didn’t understand where this came from. She just—knew.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she murmured, rising to her knees on the bed.
He tracked her every move.
Her trembling hand made her a liar as she reached out to him, resting her palm against his heart. The muscle twitched beneath her touch, his flesh hot and feverish.
That strange ticking rumble, somewhere between a growl and a purr reverberated from deep in his chest and vibratedagainst her hand. Then she was falling into the air where he’d been standing.
A strong arm clenched beneath her breasts, saving her from toppling head first off the bed. Evelyn let out a small squeak as she was pulled back against his strong body and set between his open legs.
She hadn’t even seen him move. One moment, he’d been standing in front of her, the next, crouched behind her on the bed. They were leaning against the headboard, her backside pressed against his arousal.
Instead of taking her, or hurting her, he settled her back against his rumbling chest and leaned against her. Evelyn gasped as a rough hand wound in her hair a moment before his face buried in it.
He was scenting her?
All right.She let out a breath of relief.This is… strange, but not altogether unpleasant.
He released her hair and heavy arms created walls on either side of her as he reached forward. She’d completely forgotten about the damp cloth he’d been holding until he used it to gently cleanse her thighs.
Blushing, she hid her face against his arm, and he made an animalistic noise of amusement. She smiled against his skin.
“I was planning to sleep in the cupboard tonight with the spiders. At least until the MacKay were gone. But I’m quite glad I didn’t.” She hated her propensity to babble that whenever discomfited or embarrassed. Biting her tongue, she admonished herself to be quiet.
Roderick grunted when she said ‘MacKay’ and it wasn’t a happy sound. Folding the cloth the opposite way, he parted her folds and washed her intimately as well, the cloth wiping away any evidence of her virginity.
She cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to focus on the unfamiliar intimacy of his actions. “I, uh, used to be locked in a lot of cupboards and such when I was a girl.” She couldn’t seem to help herself. The words tumbled out of her in reckless succession. “The London convent where I was raised sometimes held prisoners as well as orphans. I dare say we weren’t treated much differently. When we misbehaved or— when they wanted something, we’d be locked away. Sometimes for hours… or overnight.” She didn’t dare tell him that she’d been locked away more than any other child. That the bishop had used her gift for knowing truths and forced her to listen in on countless tortured confessions. She’d rarely been able to save any of his victims, though. Even the innocent ones.
Roderick discarded the cloth and pulled her closer against him, nuzzling the curve of her neck. It felt good. Warm. In a short time, this had become her favorite place, this haven of his solid body wrapped around her. Perhaps the Berserker wasn’t as dangerous in this form as she’d originally thought.
“Anyway, I’m not fond of small spaces, to say the least. I suppose I’m thanking you for, well, inviting me in here. For protecting me from the MacKays—and the cupboard.”
He nodded against her skin, capturing her earlobe in his lips and scraping his teeth against the sensitive flesh there.
Goose pimples erupted all over and she shivered.
Searching for her knowledge, she was paralyzed by the desperate hope that perhaps his fate had changed, as they sometimes did through no fault of one’s own, but of others or circumstance.
Nay. His life ended on the morrow. She closed her eyes against hot tears as grief snaked through her.
What could she do? Should she warn him? Should she tell him of her ability and risk his lethal censure? Did one night of love-making addle her wits so much that she forgot about selfpreservation? They turned to each other for pleasure, yes. He might be using her body for distraction before a battle. And, in turn, she used him for protection against a fate worse than death at the hands of the MacKay. Yet, sherefusedto let anyone use her ability against her again. In the hands of the church, using it in the name of one God, it had been a nightmare. She shuddered to think of what it would become in the hands of an entire Norse pantheon. She’d risked her life to escape to Scotland, and she didn’t have enough money saved to take herself any farther.
No, she couldn’t tell him. It wouldn’t change anything. She’d tried before to save people from their destiny. It wasn’t to be done.
