Mistress of the Storm by Terri Brisbin

places not usually seen and rumored to have no exit. Because he did not know the source of his power and had suspicions about its origins, a story such as hers was not too hard for him to believe. Had some spirit or sith who lived in the lake saved her life? Could he have some link to the sith as well?
    Isabel finished her meal and Duncan decided to begin their time together as he wished it to be, not as she was trained to act.
    “Will the storm blow over soon?” he asked, taking the last mouthful of wine from his cup.
    She looked up at the ceiling of the cottage and closed her eyes, appearing for a moment as though she was asleep. Then she shook her head. “It will storm through the night and end at dawn.”
    Her wistful tone caused him to smile. Almost as though she longed for the rains and winds to continue for as long as possible, which in the case of weather on that isle could be days long.
    “And what do you wish to do while the rains pour down?” He gave her a choice. “I do not care to be outside in the worst of it,” he admitted.
    “Do you have duties to see to, my lord?” she asked, while gathering the bowls and cups together. “Must you leave here this night?”
    He could not tell if she flirted or if she was now the curious one. “I am not your lord, Isabel,” he corrected. “I am just a man who wanted you.”
    “And could pay the high price demanded for me,” she completed. “Surely you must be wealthy and powerful to pay that cost.”
    Duncan watched her eyes light as she spoke. He sensed a game had begun. A counter move was needed.
    “Aye, I am wealthy and powerful, but choose not to give the appearance of such. Unscrupulous men would seek to separate me from both if they knew,” he explained. Something flashed in her eyes as he made that statement and he recognized either guilt or surprise at his admission. “Again, what do you wish to do this evening while the rains make remaining inside so appealing?”
    As she considered her words carefully before speaking he felt her retreating within herself, almost as if building a wall around her innermost thoughts and desires and needs so no one could touch them. The whore’s expression returned to her features and he wondered if she even knew when she used it.
    “You,” she whispered in a husky tone. “I wish to do you.”
    It was safer to retreat into the persona she knew and could control than to let him get closer, so Isabel did just that. Pleasuring him, even when she allowed herself to enjoy it, did not threaten her soul as did answering his questions. Already she’d revealed something she had never spoken of to another except her mother on that day and she could little afford to let out anything else she kept inside.
    Having sex with him would be no hardship for he gave as much pleasure as he took. She shook her head so her hair tumbled across her back and over her arse and she stood taller, pressing her breasts against the luxurious fabric of the robe she wore. Then she did the one thing that seemed to make him lose control—she slid the tip of her tongue over her lips, drawing his attention and reminding him of all the ways she could and would use her tongue on his flesh.
    His response was fast and almost furious as he crossed the few paces between them, pulled her into his arms and dragged her onto the surface of the table where they’d just shared a meal. When she tried to ease her hands free so she could touch him, he took them in one of his and held them above her head. Before she could say a word to him, he kneed her legs apart, pulled the robe and his shirt out of his way and thrust into her.
    Isabel gasped in surprise, for he’d never done that in all their joinings. With no prelude and no attention to her at all, he shoved his cock until it could go no further and then relentlessly sought his own release. Her body adjusted to his, her inner walls relaxing as they accommodated his length and thickness, pouring out moisture to