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Jesus, she’s quick.
I break into a run and come up behind Gwen, easily tossing her over my shoulder, turning on a heel and continuing toward the darker, more hidden areas of the loch’s edge. “You think to escape the Fury so easily, woman? Many a warrior has tried and failed.” I find a large notch carved into the side of the mountain and set Gwen on her feet inside of it. I settle my hands on her shoulders, mentally preparing a speech that will make her see the advantages of my proposition, clumsy though it was…and that’s when I notice the sheen of tears in her eyes.
The words on my tongue die a withering death, my knees feeling suspiciously weak.
Have I made this courageous woman weep?
A pit yawns wide in my stomach over the possibility.
“Gwen?”
“I understand now.” She keeps her spine straight and proud, but the effect is challenged by the red tip of her nose. “You saw an easy target. The big girl with the cheap dress. You wouldn’t even have to woo her. Just drag her out to the loch for a roll in the grass.”
All right. Now my head is spinning.
Irritation over being misunderstood spears up into my throat, but it’s nothing compared to the discomfort I feel over the tears in her eyes. Tears I caused.
“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?”
“You just assumed I would lay with you.” She tips her head back and blinks rapidly to keep the moisture from falling—and the sight of it wounds me. Worse than being run through on the battlefield. “Would you have made that assumption about a respectable lady?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have time for respectable ladies—” Fuck. Her eyes are flashing and I’m already holding up a hand. “That came out wrong. I meant, I don’t waste a lot of time on romance. Imagine me trying to court someone?” She sniffs and my hand cups her cheek, stroking it with my thumb, the instinct to comfort her fierce. “I brought you out here, Gwen, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in all my years on this earth. Not because I thought you might be easy. Frankly, my lady, there is nothing easy about you—that’s part of what I like.” I look down at my humongous frame, back to her. “And if you’re big, what does that make me?”4GwenDon’t. Do not kiss him.
Kissing the giant is a terrible decision.
And completely unlike me.
I don’t go around kissing men, let alone rulers of entire kingdoms. This man has explained in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want a wife. That he is in the market for a mistress only. By kissing him, he might think I’m considering the proposition. But I most certainly will not. My parents raised me to demand respect. To believe in myself. And I won’t let them—or my sisters—down by accepting a position as the king’s paramour.
That isn’t to say it isn’t an occupation that doesn’t deserve respect, but it’s less than I’m personally willing to accept.
That being said…
Is he becoming more and more attractive as time passes, or did that cup of wine from earlier affect me in unexpected ways? Or perhaps it’s the slow, winding burble of the loch. The full moon and endless scattering of stars. The lonely call of the wind and drums beating low in the distance. The scene is romantic. That has to be why I’m so anxious to slide my fingers up into his unruly dark hair and invite his mouth down to mine.
Corbet of Fallstrom is a warrior.
Already a legend and he can’t be older than thirty.
He’s called me beautiful—meant it, too—and his palm on my cheek, it’s stirring a cauldron of new sensations beneath my belly button. He did bring me out here with the intention of taking his male relief between my thighs. Am I wicked for being sort of…excited by that? I remember the way he approached me, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. As if he was compelled to get as close as possible. Even now, his ample body heat penetrates the thin material of my dress and warms my skin, makes my nipples tingle.
I’ve thought of what it would be like to make love to a man. Sure. It’s natural to picture it. But because I’m rounder of hip and curvaceous, I’ve always imagined the man being equal in size or slimmer. Never larger. Never much, much larger. There is something very tempting about the idea of lying on my back and having this giant block out the world. To feel…overpowered for once, instead of constantly in charge. Making decisions.
To feel like a prize for the taking.
I’m not so desperate that I will give physical liberties to the first man who calls me beautiful, however. No, I have more confidence in myself than that. In fact, I’m a catch.
