during the Realm Colloquium held in Ireland. “Maybe he’ll shuck his pants, too.”
Darcy snickered. “Mother is going to kill us.” She turned and eyed the rushing stream behind them, lifting her skirts away from the damp grass. “Let’s just not get wet.”
“Of course. ”
Connlan demonstrated a headlock on McPatty’s youngest son.
A fluttering set up in Moira’s stomach, reminding her of the first time she’d ventured into the rolling sea.
The vampire stood strong, muscles clearly defined and solid in his chest. Even across the distance, the magnificent color of his eyes piqued her curiosity. Rumor had it vampires had two colors for their eyes. She’d probably never see Conn’s vampire colors.
Then he’d looked up—directly at her. Stunned by the power in those otherworldly eyes, she caught her breath and stepped back. A protruding branch caught her heel. The rest was inevitable. In a fluff of silk and scattering of leaves, she landed on her arse in the stream, cursing a streak worse than the loudest drunk at Shea’s tavern on a Saturday night.
The shock of cold had her muscles going rigid. Smooth rocks lined the stream’s bottom, no doubt leaving bruises on her rear. Chilly water rushed around her, instantly soaking her skirts. She pressed down with her palms, slipping on the moss.
“Moira, be quiet.” Darcy stepped gingerly over the offending branch, keeping her boots shy of the stream. “I’ll lean out ... you grab my hand.”
A twig snapped in warning before a large form yanked brush out of the way. “Allow me.” Two strides had Connlan Kayrs in the stream and grasping her by the armpits. He lifted her as if her molecules had been rearranged into air.
As he set her down, pure amusement lifted the corners of his devastating mouth. “You’re not dressed for swimming, Miss Dunne.”
She stumbled on the uneven ground, seeking balance. He knew her name. Well, her last name. She peered around his hulking body to see men busily training in the field. Thank goodness no one else saw. “How did you see me?”
The smile broadened. “Good eyes. Good ears, too.”
Ears? What had she said? Fire rushed into her face. She’d wanted him to remove his pants. Even now, his bare chest beckoned her. What would he taste like? She shook her head. Good thing he couldn’t read minds.
“How fortunate.” Her tongue felt too large in her mouth. Irritation wandered down her spine.
He smiled at Darcy. “Miss Dunne.”
Darcy twittered. She actually twittered. “Prince Kayrs.”
The irritation wandered into anger. Moira stepped back. “Thank you for your assistance. You no doubt should return to work.” She lifted her chin. The water weighed down her skirts, making it nearly impossible to move.
His eyes sparkled a deeper green than her aunt Viv’s climbing ivy. “I’ll escort you back to the meeting area.”
“No.” Panic had her eyes widening to let in more light. She looked akin to a drowned cat. Her mother really would kill her. “Thank you. We’ll watch awhile longer.”
“I’m not removing my pants.” He said it soberly, but his eyes laughed.
How indiscreet. Darcy coughed. Moira sniffed. “I should hope not. But I want to watch the training. Learn the moves.” It was the truth.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Moira, you don’t need training. You’re the Seventh. When you’re on the council, you’ll have bodyguards.”
“I want to learn to fight.” They’d been over it repeatedly. She eyed the vampire. “What do you think?” Maybe he’d teach her. Kell and Adam always refused, but Daire had seemed open to the possibility.
Conn’s gaze wandered over her still warm face, down to her soppy wet boots and back up. “I think you’re too pretty to fight.”
A tingle set her skin on fire from his traveling gaze. Pleasure warmed her from the compliment, irritation filled her from the dismissal. “Think so, do you?” Holding her palms out, she formed a ball of pulsating
Darcy snickered. “Mother is going to kill us.” She turned and eyed the rushing stream behind them, lifting her skirts away from the damp grass. “Let’s just not get wet.”
“Of course. ”
Connlan demonstrated a headlock on McPatty’s youngest son.
A fluttering set up in Moira’s stomach, reminding her of the first time she’d ventured into the rolling sea.
The vampire stood strong, muscles clearly defined and solid in his chest. Even across the distance, the magnificent color of his eyes piqued her curiosity. Rumor had it vampires had two colors for their eyes. She’d probably never see Conn’s vampire colors.
Then he’d looked up—directly at her. Stunned by the power in those otherworldly eyes, she caught her breath and stepped back. A protruding branch caught her heel. The rest was inevitable. In a fluff of silk and scattering of leaves, she landed on her arse in the stream, cursing a streak worse than the loudest drunk at Shea’s tavern on a Saturday night.
The shock of cold had her muscles going rigid. Smooth rocks lined the stream’s bottom, no doubt leaving bruises on her rear. Chilly water rushed around her, instantly soaking her skirts. She pressed down with her palms, slipping on the moss.
“Moira, be quiet.” Darcy stepped gingerly over the offending branch, keeping her boots shy of the stream. “I’ll lean out ... you grab my hand.”
A twig snapped in warning before a large form yanked brush out of the way. “Allow me.” Two strides had Connlan Kayrs in the stream and grasping her by the armpits. He lifted her as if her molecules had been rearranged into air.
As he set her down, pure amusement lifted the corners of his devastating mouth. “You’re not dressed for swimming, Miss Dunne.”
She stumbled on the uneven ground, seeking balance. He knew her name. Well, her last name. She peered around his hulking body to see men busily training in the field. Thank goodness no one else saw. “How did you see me?”
The smile broadened. “Good eyes. Good ears, too.”
Ears? What had she said? Fire rushed into her face. She’d wanted him to remove his pants. Even now, his bare chest beckoned her. What would he taste like? She shook her head. Good thing he couldn’t read minds.
“How fortunate.” Her tongue felt too large in her mouth. Irritation wandered down her spine.
He smiled at Darcy. “Miss Dunne.”
Darcy twittered. She actually twittered. “Prince Kayrs.”
The irritation wandered into anger. Moira stepped back. “Thank you for your assistance. You no doubt should return to work.” She lifted her chin. The water weighed down her skirts, making it nearly impossible to move.
His eyes sparkled a deeper green than her aunt Viv’s climbing ivy. “I’ll escort you back to the meeting area.”
“No.” Panic had her eyes widening to let in more light. She looked akin to a drowned cat. Her mother really would kill her. “Thank you. We’ll watch awhile longer.”
“I’m not removing my pants.” He said it soberly, but his eyes laughed.
How indiscreet. Darcy coughed. Moira sniffed. “I should hope not. But I want to watch the training. Learn the moves.” It was the truth.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Moira, you don’t need training. You’re the Seventh. When you’re on the council, you’ll have bodyguards.”
“I want to learn to fight.” They’d been over it repeatedly. She eyed the vampire. “What do you think?” Maybe he’d teach her. Kell and Adam always refused, but Daire had seemed open to the possibility.
Conn’s gaze wandered over her still warm face, down to her soppy wet boots and back up. “I think you’re too pretty to fight.”
A tingle set her skin on fire from his traveling gaze. Pleasure warmed her from the compliment, irritation filled her from the dismissal. “Think so, do you?” Holding her palms out, she formed a ball of pulsating
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