His Conquest. Diana Cosby
eventually. For now I will keep watch.”
He shifted, winced at the pain. “Nay. You wi-will lie now or I will drag you down here if necessary.”
“I…” She again checked his wounds as if they were her only concern, but he saw through her guise.
He shot her a warning look.
With a nervous glance, she slipped between the covers beside him.
Exhausted, satisfied that she’d stay, and ignoring the brush of their bodies, Seathan closed his eyes and succumbed to the inviting bliss of sleep.
Silence.
Long seconds passed.
The slow rise and fall of his chest assured Linet the rebel was asleep. She allowed herself to relax. It was amazing he’d held out this long.
Seathan shifted onto his back. Sunlight caressed the hard planes of his face, and the shadow of a full beard over his square jaw. In rest, his expression softened, hinted at lines carved by laughter. Intriguing. Lord Grey did not strike her as a man who would relax enough to give way to humor.
He mumbled in his sleep.
Drawn, she watched him. Her mouth tingled with remembrance of his lips covering hers. A mere kiss and he’d almost destroyed her. What would it be like if they made love?
Heat stroked her face at her untoward thoughts. She dismissed them. They were but musings. Without his awareness of them, they hurt no one.
Curious, Linet leaned closer, drawn to the man who was as great a mystery as a threat. His warmth curled around her, his inner strength as inherent as his domineering force.
Tiredness washed over her, but a sense of peace as well.
Peace?
Odd when her life at this moment held naught but chaos.
His steady breaths lulled her, as did the safety she felt by his side. She yawned, slid a hand’s breath toward him, and for the first time in many days, slipped into an undisturbed sleep.
Seathan opened his eyes, his senses alert. The aches of his body provided an immediate reminder of his escape from the dungeon, and the morning sun streaming into the cave was an indicator that a day had passed. He glanced down at the lass.
Not any lass. Linet.
With his mind clear, he studied her as she slept, noting how her slender body curled against his with innocent trust. Her cheek lay flush upon his chest, her lashes crafting perfect half-moons against her ivory skin, and her long amber-gold hair loosened from its braid now framing her face.
His gaze drifted to the curve of her mouth. Memories ignited of their heated kiss within the cell, of the passion, the unexpected rightness of it that had scorched his soul.
Nay, ’twas only his mind’s haze from the torture he’d endured that invited such randy thoughts. Regardless of a woman’s passion in bed, well he understood their capacity for treachery. Though an innocent, Linet was still a stranger, a woman with secrets, far from a person he could care for, much less trust.
What had driven her to give him his freedom? The reason involved Tearlach, of that he was sure.
Throat dry, he again took in the inviting lines of her mouth. If he kissed her again, would her taste be different? He lowered his mouth a degree, her soft breaths tumbling over his cheek, her warmth inviting him closer. His body hardened, trembled with anticipation.
Bedamned he would know.
He claimed her mouth. A soft moan escaped her as he guided her, teased her, savored the supple lips that slowly responded.
Thick lashes flew open. Startled lavender eyes cleared, darkened with pleasure. On a shudder, her body softened, molded against his own.
Then she was kissing him back.
Heat.
It burned through him as if a torch thrown. He drowned in the scorching blaze, pressing her back to lay his full length against her soft curves. He had to have her, taste her every inch.
Ignoring the lancing pain of the injury along his side, he cupped her mouth, took the kiss deeper, until she whimpered in his arms and arched against him as does a woman in need.
On a groan, he inched down to taste the silken curve of her jaw, then grazed his teeth along the slender column of her neck, her gasps of pleasure threatening to break his hard-won control.
With every sense steeped in her, he shoved her linen gown away to expose her breasts. God in heaven, they were a wondrous sight.
Linet stilled. Her hand caught his fingers hovering over her breast. “No!”
Seathan met her gaze, the desire in her eyes in direct contrast to her request.
A distant shout echoed nearby.
He turned toward the entry, blinked. God’s teeth! He’d been so caught up in the woman, he’d ignored the noise that had obviously pulled him from his slumber.
Seathan withdrew his dagger. His arm ached from the quick movement. He ignored the pain. At least the dizziness of last night had passed.
“What is it?” she asked.
Her wild, sensual look had him gritting his teeth. He placed a finger over her lips, silently groaned at their softness. “There are men outside.”
Eyes dark with passion clouded to fear. Linet nodded.
He removed his finger, then shoved to his feet, the blade curled within his hand. “Stay here. They should not find us.” With quiet steps, he crept to the entry.
A rustle of clothes sounded as she repaired her gown. Soft footsteps sounded in his wake, then paused. “Can you see them?” she whispered.
“Nay, but they are close.” Her scent teased him, as did the memories of her full breasts. Bedamned, what had he been doing kissing her, much less entertaining notions of making love to her?
He peered out an open sliver between the moss cover.
Shadows flickered in the trees.
“They are coming,” he whispered.
Sticks cracked, hooves clopped as the men rode into view.
“Lord Tearlach has deployed a large contingent,” Seathan said, impressed by the number of knights.
“You are a valuable prisoner.”
Nerves rode her voice, which he expected, so why did her reply leave him on edge? He glanced at her; she hesitated, then looked away.
“What?” he whispered, his anger finding a foothold.
“I—”
“We have seen no sign of them since yesterday,” a nearby guard stated.
Seathan turned toward the approaching band of men.
“Lord Tearlach is in a rage,” said a knight but paces away from their hideout.
“As expected,” another knight replied. “Though, I am unsure if his anger is with the Scot or her for aiding in his escape.”
A knight nodded. “She is a fool.”
Linet gasped behind him.
“Yes,” the closest man agreed, “since the viscount’s return, he has allowed her far too much rein. A beating would do her good.”
The other knight grunted. “Lord Tearlach will find her. When he does, she will regret her treachery. Before this is done, he will bend her to his will.”
“Onward,” a lead knight called. Soft earth flew from beneath the horses’ hooves. The slap of leather and jingle of spurs faded as the knights disappeared into the forest.
Seathan turned. Linet’s face had paled. Her nerves now made sense. Anger