When he reached her door he stared at it thoughtfully while the guard roused himself to unlock it. Tavis was rather glad that Angus was not there, for the man had developed a fatherly fondness for the pair and would no doubt have made his disapproval felt. Shaking away all moral questions about what he planned to do, Tavis stepped into the room, signaling the guard to follow. Tavis wanted Storm with a desire that was nearly crippling, and he intended to have her.
Chapter Seven
A dying fire lit the room with a soft glow. Upon the large bed Storm and Phelan lay in each other's arms, the woman looking as much the child as the boy. Their slender bodies made little impression beneath the covers they were so snuggly wrapped in.
"Get the boy and secure him elsewhere," he told the guard with a voice made husky from the vision of thick, brilliant hair spread over the pillows. Phelan woke as the guard lifted him from the bed. The resultant confrontation woke Storm. In a calm voice and in the tongue of Erin she told Phelan to go quietly.
"Are you sure?" he asked in the same language, his gaze fixed belligerently on Tavis.
"Yes." She also looked at Tavis, thinking it cruel that fate should allow her to bestow her heart upon a man who was not only her enemy but merely wished to use her. "It is inevitable, my darling boy. If not now, it will be later, for he desires it and I love him. I think the best thing for me to do is to get what pleasure I can out of it, so go, Phelan, and worry not about me. There is nothing that can be done."
"If fate is kind, he will suffer from the withers," Phelan said and marched out of the room.
Moving to stand by the bed once they were alone, Tavis looked down at a giggling Storm. "What did ye and the lad say to each other?" he asked quietly.
"I told the boy he could do nothing so to go quietly. He wished upon ye an affliction that will make what ye plan an impossibility." She wished she was not so aware of how attractive he was when he smiled.
Sitting down on the bed, Tavis grasped her by the wrists and held her hands on either side of her head. "Do ye still intend to fight me, lass? I'll warn ye now," he bluffed, "a fight willnae deter me."
"That I had judged upon my own," she drawled. "Nay, I will not fight ye for 'twill bring me only pain."
He brushed featherlight kisses over her flushed cheeks. " 'Tis true. This way I can bring ye pleasure."
"I said I would not fight ye. I did not say I would cooperate." As his lips continued to move gently over her face, Storm had the distressing feeling that her body would go its merry way despite her wishes.
"Mayhaps I can change your mind, lass. Since ye must give in, why not gain what ye can from it, sweeting?" He pulled the covers down and began to unlace the silken chemise she wore.
Storm could feel the heat of desire seep into her veins despite her battle to quell it. The light from the dying fire and the candle he had brought with him made it fairly easy to see what he was doing, something that was proving a heady experience. She realized with a touch of bitter self-recrimination that if she had fought him it would have been a very short battle. The only way she could save any face would be to feel no pleasure or to hide that which she did feel, but she knew instinctively that she would not be allowed even that small victory. Her heart was her worst enemy. She could only pray that he would never realize how fully he held her in the palm of his hand.
Tavis eased the garment off of her, wishing she did not hold herself so limply. When his gaze fell upon her full, ivory breasts, his breath caught in his throat. It was not only her beauty that moved him, but the indication that her disinterest was a total sham. Her breathing was already becoming erratic, the perfect rosettes upon her breasts were hardening before his eyes, calling out for his caress, and the pulse of her elegant, slim throat was pounding in such a way that it showed him her blood was racing through her veins as much as his was. The desire within her was clearly winning out over her other wants.
Slowly his gaze moved to her tiny waist and lingered on her flat, satiny stomach. His survey shifted quickly to her small lovely feet, eased its way up her slim, well-formed legs and riveted greedily upon the nest of coppery curls that hid his final prize. Turning his gaze back to her face, the blush in her cheeks apparent even in the dim light, he shed his robe.
"Ye are perfection," he said, his voice soft and hoarse with need. "I think ye are blushing all over."
"No man has e'er looked upon me as ye do now. 'Tis shame that brings the color to my face."
"Ah, lass, if there be any shame in this, 'tis mine and glad I am to bear it an it means I can possess the loveliness I now look upon. So cease your blushes, sweeting. They gain ye naught."
A fact that she would rather die than reveal was that some of the color in her cheeks was caused by blood heated nearly to boiling by the vision of his unclothed body. As his eyes had drifted over her, so hers did over him. Tavis MacLagan made Sir Hugh look like a wizened cripple.
Her gaze skimmed over
