Teresa Medeiros by Touch of Enchantment Page A

grant.” He stretched out on the ground, rolling into the cloak. “We’d best get some sleep. We’ll proceed to my castle on the morrow.”
    Tabitha was alarmed by a new thought. “Won’t your castle be the first place Brisbane comes looking for you?”
    His eyes drifted shut, but a ruthless smirk flirted with his lips. “God willing.”
    Tabitha reclined on her side and pillowed her head on her hands. The fire crackled and snapped, creating a disarming aura of intimacy.
    “Why did you come back for me?” she asked softly, finally daring to ask the other question that had haunted her since their wild flight from Brisbane’s castle.
    Colin’s hesitation was nearly imperceptible. “Because honor demanded it.”
    “Oh, of course. Honor.”
    His words left her feeling cold. She eyed the woolen cloak, hoping his precious honor would goad him into offering it back to her. Although it was the heart of summer, a fallow chill still clung to the forest floor.
    His contented snores ended her hopes. Sighing, she drew Lucy’s warm, furry body into her arms. Before she could even close her eyes, the kitten had squirmed out of her grip and sauntered boldly over to Sir Colin. The little minx slipped between the folds of the cloak and curled into a ball against his bare chest. Her purr was audible over the crackle of the campfire, and Tabitharemembered how blissfully she had slept in that exact spot the previous night.
    “Traitor,” she whispered, fervently hoping that she was jealous of the man and not the cat.
    Colin squatted beside the fire to drape the cloak over the woman’s sleeping form. She’d curled in on herself and, despite her uncommon height, looked small and disturbingly vulnerable. Exhaustion had stripped her of her curious bravado. With her lips turned downward in a sad little bow and violet smudging the pale skin beneath her eyes, she looked lost in some fundamental way—like a child wandering alone in a strange and dangerous wood.
    A wayward lock of hair had fallen across her eyes. He brushed it away, sifting its feathery softness through his fingertips. She nestled into the cloak and turned her face toward his touch, inadvertently grazing his wrist with her lips. Colin jerked his hand back, pricked by the reminder that she was no child, but a woman grown, ripe with all the perils and delights of her fickle sex.
    It seemed a lifetime since he’d allowed himself to stroke a lass’s hair or draw her into his arms when she shivered. An eternity since he’d felt the alluring softness of a woman’s body against him.
    Or beneath him.
    He scowled, betrayed by the swift and devastating surge of lust in his groin. He’d never encountered a woman quite like this one. Regan had been sketched in ethereal shades of primrose and silver, easy to capture, yet impossible to hold. She’d flowed like summer rain through his hands until she was no more.
    But this woman was no wraith to vanish before his eyes. She was warm and vibrant and solid to the touch.
    He’d grown accustomed to looming over ladies who kept their heads meekly bowed and their hands cupped over their mouths to hide their shy smiles and crooked teeth.
    But throughout the grueling day, he had only to turn his head and Tabitha was there, her pearly teeth flashing, her parted lips a breath away from his own.
    Was it any wonder he hadn’t been able to resist kissing her in the cavern? That he’d yearned to discover if she tasted as intoxicating as she smelled—like sunshine and honeyed mead on a hot summer day? But that brief sip had only betrayed him by whetting his thirst.
    He muttered an oath, then shot a silent prayer skyward, begging his Lord’s pardon for blaspheming.
    In the brothels of Egypt, he’d encountered a multitude of women schooled in the arts of pleasure. Their pouting ruby lips and khol-lined eyes had promised erotic delights beyond any mere mortal’s imaginings. He’d seen stalwart knights break marriage oaths and risk eternal