I must have ashes for brains.” He slid off his cloak and slung it around her, which only plastered the soaking-wet nightshirt she wore to her already freezing-cold skin.
That shock of reality jarred her from whatever spell he'd cast, but before she could regain even a shred of control over the situation-much less her-self-she found herself airborne and being held against his chest.
A small squeak of surprise was all she managed before he had her bundled tightly, like a child. Only there was nothing childlike about the sensations rocking through her.
“Come. You must get warm and dry.”
She knew she was beyond help when his edict only elicited visions of him stripping the damp nightshirt off her body… in front of a roaring fire.
Through the haze of desire, it took a few moments before she realized he wasn't heading back to Gregor's.
“Wait. What…where,” she spluttered. Not exactly the commanding tone she'd hoped for, but then she hadn't exactly been too worried about being in charge a moment ago when she was thigh deep in fantasyland.
It wasn't until he crossed the road and started down to the beach that she began to struggle. “Wait a minute,” she shouted over the roar of the wind. “You're not taking me out there through that.” She didn't need moonlight to know the surf was roiling. She could hear it.
“I thought you enjoyed daring the seas,” Connal said, not breaking stride despite her squirming.
“Calculated daring, yes. Suicide, no. Can we
please
go back to Gregor's?”
He didn't so much as pause. They crossed the beach.
She should have never let him mesmerize her like that. What was wrong with her anyway? “Put me down!”
But it was as if he didn't hear her. Infuriated, shetried to pound on his chest, but her hands were all tangled in his cloak. How had she thought him remotely sexy? He was a pigheaded, stubborn, arrogant… Scot.
The roar of the waves was almost deafening. The causeway over to the tower had to be at least chest deep. And surging.
“You
don't have to worry about risking your life, you know!” She wrestled an arm free and grabbed at his hair, digging her fingers in and pulling until finally, mercifully, he stopped.
Of course, he was swearing and shouting at her now, but he'd stopped and that was all she cared about.
“I'll get you to safety, now stop yer panickin’!”
Rain poured down her face and she blinked furiously against it. “What, you're going to blink us up to the tower or something?”
“Blink?”
“Whatever the hell you call it when you vanish into thin air. That trick.”
“It's no’ a trick. But I canna whisk you off that way, if that's what yer asking.”
“Please put me down.”
“I'll no let any harm come to ye. What do ye take me for?”
Thunder rocked and lightning split the sky. Shaking from cold and… and everything, Josie peered up at Connal and said, “A dead guy?”
His laughter filled the air between them, and just for a moment, the storm didn't exist. An instant later she was bundled tightly against him, her mouth muffled against his chest as he continued on down the beach.
So, yes, she'd reluctantly been forced to believe in ghosts. She'd also been forced to admit she was seriously sexually attracted to one ghost in particular. But lust didn't equal trust.
Josie did her best to hold her breath as she prepared herself for the impact of the cold water. Her lungs began to burn, her spine stiff to the point of aching… but the surf never surged up to claim them. She wriggled again, doing her best despite the fact that she had no arms to maneuver with.
“Hold still,” he commanded, then swore under his breath as he banged into something. “Yer no’ making this any easier for either of us. Now be still, damn ye. We're almost there.”
Almost there? How
could that be?
And then suddenly the roar of wind and surf ceased. She thought her ears had popped, the change was so abrupt. And the rain. She couldn't feel it pelting
That shock of reality jarred her from whatever spell he'd cast, but before she could regain even a shred of control over the situation-much less her-self-she found herself airborne and being held against his chest.
A small squeak of surprise was all she managed before he had her bundled tightly, like a child. Only there was nothing childlike about the sensations rocking through her.
“Come. You must get warm and dry.”
She knew she was beyond help when his edict only elicited visions of him stripping the damp nightshirt off her body… in front of a roaring fire.
Through the haze of desire, it took a few moments before she realized he wasn't heading back to Gregor's.
“Wait. What…where,” she spluttered. Not exactly the commanding tone she'd hoped for, but then she hadn't exactly been too worried about being in charge a moment ago when she was thigh deep in fantasyland.
It wasn't until he crossed the road and started down to the beach that she began to struggle. “Wait a minute,” she shouted over the roar of the wind. “You're not taking me out there through that.” She didn't need moonlight to know the surf was roiling. She could hear it.
“I thought you enjoyed daring the seas,” Connal said, not breaking stride despite her squirming.
“Calculated daring, yes. Suicide, no. Can we
please
go back to Gregor's?”
He didn't so much as pause. They crossed the beach.
She should have never let him mesmerize her like that. What was wrong with her anyway? “Put me down!”
But it was as if he didn't hear her. Infuriated, shetried to pound on his chest, but her hands were all tangled in his cloak. How had she thought him remotely sexy? He was a pigheaded, stubborn, arrogant… Scot.
The roar of the waves was almost deafening. The causeway over to the tower had to be at least chest deep. And surging.
“You
don't have to worry about risking your life, you know!” She wrestled an arm free and grabbed at his hair, digging her fingers in and pulling until finally, mercifully, he stopped.
Of course, he was swearing and shouting at her now, but he'd stopped and that was all she cared about.
“I'll get you to safety, now stop yer panickin’!”
Rain poured down her face and she blinked furiously against it. “What, you're going to blink us up to the tower or something?”
“Blink?”
“Whatever the hell you call it when you vanish into thin air. That trick.”
“It's no’ a trick. But I canna whisk you off that way, if that's what yer asking.”
“Please put me down.”
“I'll no let any harm come to ye. What do ye take me for?”
Thunder rocked and lightning split the sky. Shaking from cold and… and everything, Josie peered up at Connal and said, “A dead guy?”
His laughter filled the air between them, and just for a moment, the storm didn't exist. An instant later she was bundled tightly against him, her mouth muffled against his chest as he continued on down the beach.
So, yes, she'd reluctantly been forced to believe in ghosts. She'd also been forced to admit she was seriously sexually attracted to one ghost in particular. But lust didn't equal trust.
Josie did her best to hold her breath as she prepared herself for the impact of the cold water. Her lungs began to burn, her spine stiff to the point of aching… but the surf never surged up to claim them. She wriggled again, doing her best despite the fact that she had no arms to maneuver with.
“Hold still,” he commanded, then swore under his breath as he banged into something. “Yer no’ making this any easier for either of us. Now be still, damn ye. We're almost there.”
Almost there? How
could that be?
And then suddenly the roar of wind and surf ceased. She thought her ears had popped, the change was so abrupt. And the rain. She couldn't feel it pelting
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