The lass glowered up at him and pushed herself to her feet. Her cloak fell over her body once more, masking her shape. Not that it mattered. Her face made up for what was hidden. Her high, elegant cheekbones were like the statues in his extensive gardens with smooth, creamy skin that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her straight hair was black as a raven’s wing. Her dark brows arched boldly over large gray eyes which cut into him with a blade of irritation.
“What are ye staring at?” she demanded.
Was he staring? He couldn’t help it. She was beautiful. And she was a woman. A woman!
He wanted to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. And, aye, he was staring. It was impossible not to. A beam of sunlight shone over her naked forearm where she’d propped her hand on her hip, as if beckoning him to stroke the exposed flesh. How he wanted to. His palm tingled with the desire to skim over her warmth.
“Is this yer tree?” She gestured at the rowan. “Yer castle?”
Her lips wrapped her words, making them somehow sensual.
When he’d been a lad, before his curse, he would have been able to charm her out of her clothing in only a matter of minutes. But now…
His heart crushed.
He was a shell of a man. His life had slipped away with naught but Gillespie’s enchantments and nagging for company. Duncan was a man cursed. A man humbled.
“Is this yers?” she asked again, dragging out each word slowly and loudly.
She thought him deaf. The idea snapped him from his daze. He hadn’t offered her an apology, or an invitation inside. It was his first time in over fourteen years seeing a woman and he’d done little more than gape.
“Will ye come inside?” he asked.
Her attention shifted to the castle and returned to him. “What’s in there?”
Her question took him aback. He answered with the first thing that came to his mind. “Furniture.”
She surprised him by smiling and giving a laugh. She had a pleasant laugh, soft and breathy. She had nice teeth too, strong and white.
“Food?” she asked, her mouth still slightly curled up at the corners.
He nodded. “Aye, food.”
“Verra well,” she said. “I’ll come inside.”
And with that, Duncan had his first guest in the castle in over fourteen years - and a woman no less.
CHAPTER 2
IF EVINA WASN’T VERITABLY invincible, she would not have accepted the man’s offer to go inside. But with the hunger snarling insistently and the aroma of roasting meat close enough that she could practically hear the fat drippings sizzle in the fire, she couldn’t decline. A hot meal would be heaven. A hot anything would be divine with the white-walled snow violently blasting the border around the tree.
The man continued to observe her with rapid flicks of his dark gaze, evidently unaware of his lack of discretion. Pity for him to be addled when he was so handsome. And he was handsome. Taller than any other man she’d seen or battled before, his hair dark, his gaze equally as black and beautifully fathomless, his jaw sharp and shadowed with several days’ worth of growth. He wore a simple léine with a pair of leather trews, which gave her plenty of a view to admire.
How she’d have enjoyed those brawny arms curling around her waist and that strong, grizzled jaw scraping over the sensitive bit of her—
“I’m sorry I hit ye.” He said it churlishly in a manner seeming not at all apologetic.
“It’s nothing I canna take.” She grinned at him in an effort to soothe his concern, but he gave her an odd look.
“Why should ye be able to take a hit?”
“I’m a warrior.” She gestured to the sword at her hip, and the bow slung over her shoulder. She left the other weapons unspoken of in their unmentionable places. One never wanted to ruin a good surprise if one might need them later. “I’m a mercenary. Got any impending battles you require assistance in winning?”
He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her. “But ye’re a woman.”
“And ye’re an idiot,” she stated bluntly. “Yet we both appear to get by in life, aye?”
He frowned at her. “An idiot?”
Guilt nipped at her. She’d lived with the crudeness of soldiers too long. She softened and reached out to pat his arm. He was like warm stone beneath the thin léine. “I shouldna have been unkind about it. I’m sure it’s no’ been easy for ye.”
“I’m no’ an idiot.” He regarded her as if she were mad.
Her nerves rankled at his contradiction. She dropped her hand from him and folded her arms. “Ye canna stop gawking at me and ye can hardly speak.”
He stared at her. She gestured to him. “See?”
His strong jaw clenched and a breath hissed from between his teeth. “I’ve been in the castle a verra long time.” He spoke slowly, as if he were stretching his patience with his words. “I’ve no’ been around anyone but Gillespie for nigh on fifteen years. It’s been that amount of time since I’ve seen a woman.” He glanced at her and looked away.
The color rose on his cheeks and she surmised his admission had made him blush.
Apparently he wasn’t an idiot—he was simply a man. One meeting a woman for the first time in a decade and a half. She was lucky he was able to speak at all.
A surge of anticipation warmed within her. Not only was the man not daft as she’s assumed, she was the first offering he’d had in far too long. Her body tingled with promise. By the end of the night, those enormous hands would be running over her naked body, brushing her sensitive nipples, dipping inside her center…
“In that case, I promise
