island.”
“Ach, ye donna!” Cristiane said, forgetting to mask her burr. She turned to face him excitedly and put one hand on his arm to steady herself.
“We do,” he said. Though he already had a death grip on the rock wall, the muscles in Adam’s arm bunched at her touch, and heat flared in uncomfortable places. He wished he had a tunic to better cover his reaction to her touch. “’Tis not much of an isle,” he added, turning away from her, “but a pile of rock off the north coast. For some reason, the seals like our insufferable weather.”
“’Tis not insufferable!”
“Last night’s storm—”
“Was truly amazing,” she said with awe in her voice.
Had he heard her correctly? She was not about to run from the isle as soon as she could get away?
“You’ve been on Bitterlee less than a day,” he said quietly, drinking in her scent. Her hand remained on his bare arm, and he harnessed the urge to find her fingers and take her hand in his, to touch his lips to the back of it. “How can you judge?”
“I cannot, notreally,” Cristiane said, restraining her burr once again, “but ’tis a beautiful place…Oh, Adam, look!”
The first rays of the sun splayed out over the water, giving an eerie cast to the scene. Within moments, though, the sky turned a brilliant pink, casting various shades of red and gold over the sea.
“’Tis breathtaking,” she sighed.
True enough. Adam could not recall seeing anything quite as grand as Cristiane Mac Dhiubh enjoying her first sunrise on Bitterlee. Her eyes were wide, framed by gold-tipped lashes. Her lips were full and moist, and entirely too alluring.
She turned slightly toward him, her body close, too close for his own to ignore. He felt his hands grow moist and his heart begin to pound. The rushing surf was naught compared to the roaring in his own ears.
In the growing light, he saw that she was covered from neck to toe by a thin linen kirtle, yet her enticing form would never be hidden from him again, no matter how well covered it might be. Burned into his memory was the way she’d looked in the firelight the morning he’d seen her undressed.
’Twould take only the slightest movement of his hand to pull her close, a trifling tip of his head to bring his lips into contact with hers.
And every fiber of his being demanded that he do so. He could divest them both of their clothes in seconds, yet Adam knew this was not an acceptable tack. Cristiane was under his protection.
“Is there a path down to the beach?” she asked, her voice subdued, her breath warm on his chest.
“Thereis no beach,” he said roughly. He balled his hands into fists and stepped away. “Not up here near the castle. And no way down to the water, anyhow.”
“But—”
“Just rocks and birds down there.”
He lied. ’Twas possible to get across the rocks and down to the water. He had tried to convince Rosamund to go down with him when they were young and newly married, but his wife had had no interest in dallying near the water with him. She had shunned the lovely pool by the waterfall, too.
“I’m sure you will enjoy the gardens, though,” he said in a conciliatory tone. ’Twas not an easy climb down to the beach, and he did not want her to risk it, especially not alone. “There is a great deal of new spring growth, and we have a large pond…”
The sunlight was more golden now, and Cristiane seemed to realize suddenly how inappropriately dressed she was. She’d been at ease in the dark, but now, when she knew he could see her, she felt the need to cross her arms over her breasts.
When she licked her lips unconsciously, Adam’s entire body clenched, and he forced himself to look away. Though she was decently covered, the linen shift was thin, and it fit entirely too snugly for his peace of mind.
She seemed to know it.
“I—I’d best be going back to my chamber…” she said as she stepped away. “Before, er, I…”
He heard her bare feet softly
“Ach, ye donna!” Cristiane said, forgetting to mask her burr. She turned to face him excitedly and put one hand on his arm to steady herself.
“We do,” he said. Though he already had a death grip on the rock wall, the muscles in Adam’s arm bunched at her touch, and heat flared in uncomfortable places. He wished he had a tunic to better cover his reaction to her touch. “’Tis not much of an isle,” he added, turning away from her, “but a pile of rock off the north coast. For some reason, the seals like our insufferable weather.”
“’Tis not insufferable!”
“Last night’s storm—”
“Was truly amazing,” she said with awe in her voice.
Had he heard her correctly? She was not about to run from the isle as soon as she could get away?
“You’ve been on Bitterlee less than a day,” he said quietly, drinking in her scent. Her hand remained on his bare arm, and he harnessed the urge to find her fingers and take her hand in his, to touch his lips to the back of it. “How can you judge?”
“I cannot, notreally,” Cristiane said, restraining her burr once again, “but ’tis a beautiful place…Oh, Adam, look!”
The first rays of the sun splayed out over the water, giving an eerie cast to the scene. Within moments, though, the sky turned a brilliant pink, casting various shades of red and gold over the sea.
“’Tis breathtaking,” she sighed.
True enough. Adam could not recall seeing anything quite as grand as Cristiane Mac Dhiubh enjoying her first sunrise on Bitterlee. Her eyes were wide, framed by gold-tipped lashes. Her lips were full and moist, and entirely too alluring.
She turned slightly toward him, her body close, too close for his own to ignore. He felt his hands grow moist and his heart begin to pound. The rushing surf was naught compared to the roaring in his own ears.
In the growing light, he saw that she was covered from neck to toe by a thin linen kirtle, yet her enticing form would never be hidden from him again, no matter how well covered it might be. Burned into his memory was the way she’d looked in the firelight the morning he’d seen her undressed.
’Twould take only the slightest movement of his hand to pull her close, a trifling tip of his head to bring his lips into contact with hers.
And every fiber of his being demanded that he do so. He could divest them both of their clothes in seconds, yet Adam knew this was not an acceptable tack. Cristiane was under his protection.
“Is there a path down to the beach?” she asked, her voice subdued, her breath warm on his chest.
“Thereis no beach,” he said roughly. He balled his hands into fists and stepped away. “Not up here near the castle. And no way down to the water, anyhow.”
“But—”
“Just rocks and birds down there.”
He lied. ’Twas possible to get across the rocks and down to the water. He had tried to convince Rosamund to go down with him when they were young and newly married, but his wife had had no interest in dallying near the water with him. She had shunned the lovely pool by the waterfall, too.
“I’m sure you will enjoy the gardens, though,” he said in a conciliatory tone. ’Twas not an easy climb down to the beach, and he did not want her to risk it, especially not alone. “There is a great deal of new spring growth, and we have a large pond…”
The sunlight was more golden now, and Cristiane seemed to realize suddenly how inappropriately dressed she was. She’d been at ease in the dark, but now, when she knew he could see her, she felt the need to cross her arms over her breasts.
When she licked her lips unconsciously, Adam’s entire body clenched, and he forced himself to look away. Though she was decently covered, the linen shift was thin, and it fit entirely too snugly for his peace of mind.
She seemed to know it.
“I—I’d best be going back to my chamber…” she said as she stepped away. “Before, er, I…”
He heard her bare feet softly
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