a—”
“You know nothing of my character, Brenna,” he interrupted, crossing the flagstones in three strides . He had to do this. There was no alternative.
Brenna took a step backward, her lower back colliding with the terrace’s stone railing as his lips descended upon hers . Blindly she clutched at the stones behind her in desperation as his impatient mouth roughly possessed hers, his long, lean body pressed against her. At first she resisted, her lips held firm. Her heart beat furiously against her breast as the delicious sensation of his heat—his power—warmed her, softening her defenses until at last she yielded to his demands, opening her mouth against his.
It was invitation enough . He groaned, a near primal sound, then roughly grasped her shoulders and drew her closer as his tongue invaded her mouth, searching, seeking. His purely male scent invaded her consciousness—tobacco, saddle leather, sandalwood. His mouth tasted of brandy, intoxicating her.
Dear Lord, whatever was he doing to her ? She found herself kissing him back, arching herself against him. Her limbs felt weak; her hands trembled by her sides. A strange warmth pooled in her belly, spreading down to her thighs. Of their own volition, her hands stole up to clasp his neck, her fingers tangling in the silky waves that brushed his collar as she drew him closer still, till she could hear the pounding of his heart over the din of her own.
A soft moan of regret escaped her lips when he retreated, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip . A second later his mouth found the pulse that fluttered wildly in her neck, his lips searing her sensitive skin with a moist, wicked heat. A shiver worked its way from the base of her spine up to her shoulders, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out his name.
At once he stiffened, and she felt a rush of cool air as he stepped back from her . Mercifully, he held her shoulders as she swayed against the railing, her fingers once more seeking the stones’ support. She blinked rapidly, attempting to regain her senses, to calm her racing heart.
At last Colin released her, one hand moving to wipe his mouth . She could only stare silently as he visibly fought for composure, his changeling eyes darkening to a stormy gray.
“That’s what kind of man I am,” he bit out at last, his voice as flinty as iron . “The kind who would kiss you senseless, with no offer of marriage to follow. Who would try his damndest to take what he wants from you, and then walk away without looking back. You would do well to listen to your parents.”
Brenna inhaled sharply . “I...I don’t believe ye,” she stammered.
“It’s quite immaterial to me what you believe, though I am sorry for deceiving you . Good day.” With that, he turned and left her there on the terrace, clutching the stone railing for dear life.
***
“You seem distracted, Margaret. You’ve barely touched your dinner. Are you feeling unwell, my dear? Margaret?”
Brenna looked up at her mother in surprise . Whatever had she asked her? “I...I beg your pardon. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there.”
“I asked if you were feeling unwell . You look a bit pale, doesn’t she, Hugh?”
Hugh set down his fork and examined her across the width of the table . “Hmm, perhaps.” He reached for his glass of wine and continued to eye her critically over the rim before taking a long draught of the purplish liquid.
“Nay, I’m feeling well enough,” she answered at last . “Just a bit tired, ‘tis all. I havena slept well these past few nights.” Sleep had eluded her as she lay in bed and remembered the sensation of Colin’s lips against her mouth, the feel of his long, lean body pressed against hers. Try as she might, she could not erase his cruel words from her memory. “That’s what kind of man I am,” he’d said, and with each passing day, she’d allowed herself to believe more and more that he had spoken the truth.
“You know nothing of my character, Brenna,” he interrupted, crossing the flagstones in three strides . He had to do this. There was no alternative.
Brenna took a step backward, her lower back colliding with the terrace’s stone railing as his lips descended upon hers . Blindly she clutched at the stones behind her in desperation as his impatient mouth roughly possessed hers, his long, lean body pressed against her. At first she resisted, her lips held firm. Her heart beat furiously against her breast as the delicious sensation of his heat—his power—warmed her, softening her defenses until at last she yielded to his demands, opening her mouth against his.
It was invitation enough . He groaned, a near primal sound, then roughly grasped her shoulders and drew her closer as his tongue invaded her mouth, searching, seeking. His purely male scent invaded her consciousness—tobacco, saddle leather, sandalwood. His mouth tasted of brandy, intoxicating her.
Dear Lord, whatever was he doing to her ? She found herself kissing him back, arching herself against him. Her limbs felt weak; her hands trembled by her sides. A strange warmth pooled in her belly, spreading down to her thighs. Of their own volition, her hands stole up to clasp his neck, her fingers tangling in the silky waves that brushed his collar as she drew him closer still, till she could hear the pounding of his heart over the din of her own.
A soft moan of regret escaped her lips when he retreated, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip . A second later his mouth found the pulse that fluttered wildly in her neck, his lips searing her sensitive skin with a moist, wicked heat. A shiver worked its way from the base of her spine up to her shoulders, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out his name.
At once he stiffened, and she felt a rush of cool air as he stepped back from her . Mercifully, he held her shoulders as she swayed against the railing, her fingers once more seeking the stones’ support. She blinked rapidly, attempting to regain her senses, to calm her racing heart.
At last Colin released her, one hand moving to wipe his mouth . She could only stare silently as he visibly fought for composure, his changeling eyes darkening to a stormy gray.
“That’s what kind of man I am,” he bit out at last, his voice as flinty as iron . “The kind who would kiss you senseless, with no offer of marriage to follow. Who would try his damndest to take what he wants from you, and then walk away without looking back. You would do well to listen to your parents.”
Brenna inhaled sharply . “I...I don’t believe ye,” she stammered.
“It’s quite immaterial to me what you believe, though I am sorry for deceiving you . Good day.” With that, he turned and left her there on the terrace, clutching the stone railing for dear life.
***
“You seem distracted, Margaret. You’ve barely touched your dinner. Are you feeling unwell, my dear? Margaret?”
Brenna looked up at her mother in surprise . Whatever had she asked her? “I...I beg your pardon. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there.”
“I asked if you were feeling unwell . You look a bit pale, doesn’t she, Hugh?”
Hugh set down his fork and examined her across the width of the table . “Hmm, perhaps.” He reached for his glass of wine and continued to eye her critically over the rim before taking a long draught of the purplish liquid.
“Nay, I’m feeling well enough,” she answered at last . “Just a bit tired, ‘tis all. I havena slept well these past few nights.” Sleep had eluded her as she lay in bed and remembered the sensation of Colin’s lips against her mouth, the feel of his long, lean body pressed against hers. Try as she might, she could not erase his cruel words from her memory. “That’s what kind of man I am,” he’d said, and with each passing day, she’d allowed herself to believe more and more that he had spoken the truth.
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