She stopped in front of her door and found him so close, their chests touched and their breath shared the same intimate space. The enticing male spice of his scent set her heart pounding.
“Duncan.” His name fled her lips in a husky exhale.
He caught her jaw in the cradle of one large palm and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER 8
IT HAD BEEN SO LONG since Duncan had been in any way intimate with a woman, he’d almost forgotten how to kiss, how to touch. In truth, it was why he had refrained, admiring her from afar.
After all, she was not some simple wench on whom to take the edge from his lust.
This was Evina.
The most beautiful woman he’d ever met, the most fascinating, incredible creature to ever wander into his life. And the one person who might be his very salvation.
If he’d rushed it and inadvertently offended her, he could lose everything. His life, and most especially, this significant experience.
His mouth pressed to the warmth of hers. The sweet, soft, clean perfume surrounded him and drew him close, like an embrace. He wanted to fall into it, into her, and never leave. Evina’s hand raked up the back of his neck and sent delicious prickles of pleasure tingling over his skin.
The tip of her tongue grazed over his lower lip, enticing and silky. Heaven blossomed around him. His breath caught and his blood went molten. His fears at being inept were allayed when instinct guided him, drawn more from heart than memory. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, letting their breaths and tongues tangle with abandon.
His insides trembled with nerves and anticipation and fear. Would he hurt her in his desperation? Would he be too excited, too eager?
Too fast?
He practically grimaced on the last thought.
Her feminine curves and honeyed taste, all far greater than he imagined. It threatened to completely devour him and render his senses overwhelmed.
His muscles blazed with might and energy. He wanted to clutch her against him and plunge into her, to claim her, until he was spent. His need was soul-melting, body-consuming, and barely tethered. It was all he could do to refrain from giving in to the savageness.
Apprehension trickled down his spine like drips of frigid water. He wanted too badly, but he also cared too much. He knew he was powerful. His mind spun in a mix of desperation and lust so that he could not think straight. He knew only of his size, of what he was capable, and that he would rather die than cause her harm.
His hands fell away and he stepped back. The solidness of his knees had disintegrated into instability, yet he remained upright by some miracle.
She remained apart from him, breathing in deep, gasping pants through kiss-swollen lips.
Even now he wanted to pull her toward him and let himself lose control once more.
His stomach tightened. “Good night, Evina.” He spoke in a gravelly tone and reached out before he could stop himself, to trail a single finger down her cheek.
Her skin was like a rose petal warmed by the sun. Was all of her as soft? Everything in him yearned to find out, to explore and taste and love. This warrior woman whose body bespoke of strength and whose skin was as supple as that of a lady.
“I shall see you on the morrow.” The breathy whisper of her voice beckoned him closer with longing, but he resisted. She hesitated, as if anticipating he would not, and then disappeared into her room.
Duncan lingered in the hall and stared at the darkened shadow of her door. He could have kept going. She would have let him. Now that he was thinking clearly, he knew he would not have hurt her. He could not, of course, as she was a daughter of Morrigan.
Even if she were a normal woman, he was sure now, he would have ensured he did not hurt her. Not with the way he felt about her.
Yet the fear had been so cold, so palpable.
And still its obstinate effects clung to him.
He made his way down the length of the hall and into the privacy of his own chamber.
Eight more days. He did the sum in his head before he realized what he was doing. Eight more days of being in his room. Nine more nights of sleeping in his bed.
Eight days and nine nights left of his very short life.
A metallic taste edged up the back of his throat and cooled the heat of his blood. Fear.
A jarring thought shot through him. Mayhap he had not been afraid of hurting her, but had been afraid for himself. With her affection came the bud of hope. And he could ill afford at this point in his short life to bother with something so useless.
EVINA HAD NEVER BEEN a woman to shy away from a situation, and especially not a man. The following morning, she still reeled over his abrupt departure. She had never had a problem stating what she wanted, or getting it.
Never had a man kissed her so thoroughly, nor burned her so blazing hot - only to leave. She had been stunned into silence. How very foreign. The closer she got to Duncan, the more he drew away. As with all else at Duart Castle, it was odd.
From the extensive collection of books on magic and mythology to the strange assortment of their new servants. Everyone had been kind, and yet there was something undeniably not right about them. Their gazes were too steady, their movements too stealthy, and they all held about them an air of wild beauty.
Ala’s graceful hands pecked and floated over Evina in an attempt to lay the glossy cloth over her exactly so it parted at the top of her shoulders and spilled down her bare arms to flutter out like angel’s wings. It was lovely, truly. And wasted on a woman the likes of Evina.
Ala
