Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Alec,” he muttered. “My God, you call me ‘your grace’ when I’ve my hand in your—”
“Alec!” she cried.
He captured her lips. His thumb circled that pinpoint of pleasure. She writhed against him, around him. “Yes, Irish, that’s the way. Soon it will be me inside you.”
Maura’s eyes snapped open. Alarm seized her. Her breath came raggedly, her thoughts in jagged bursts. If she allowed this, Alec would discover the truth of what happened—nay, what did not happen—the night of the baron’s masquerade.
The truth would out.
She could not risk it. She dare not risk it.
Because then she might never find the Circle.
And all would be lost.
“Alec,” she whispered, and then it was a cry: “Alec!”
Something in her voice penetrated through the fiery haze of pleasure surrounding him. His eyes flicked open. He stared directly into hers.
His lips grew ominously thin.
Maura’s face was scalding. Her pulse pounded wildly. Her heart in chaos, she looked at him, only to wish she had not.
“Dammit, Irish, what is it?” He was awash with sensation, dying to be inside her. Didn’t she realize how close he was to that point of no return? He was a heartbeat away from driving hard and deep, as deep as he could go.
Then he saw the tremor of her lips, and a strange expression flitted across his features. He went a little pale. “What is it? Christ, the night of the masquerade, did I—” the words were ground out. “—did I hurt you?”
“No,” she said faintly.
“What, then?”
Maura shook her head. He released her. Sitting up, she crossed her arms over her nakedness. She despised her trickery, her forbidden yearnings.
Alec got to his feet, the planes of his face rigid and tense, his mouth a taut line. Maura glimpsed the raw hunger that still burned in his eyes. She hated herself even more.
His eyes were suddenly icy, as icy as his tone. “Have it your way for now, Duchess. The next time will be mine.”
Maura jumped when he slammed the door between their rooms. Her lips still throbbed from being oh so thoroughly kissed. She staved off tears of shame. He would hate her, she was certain, when she revealed her deceit.
The encounter left her quaking inside. Shaken to the core. Fraught with worry. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to stay out of his bed. Somehow she must find a way to placate him, to appease him. How long, she wondered desperately, could she hold him off?
And yet—God forgive her, but she longed to experience what it would be like to make love with Alec McBride. Her heart twisted, for he would never know how much she yearned for it. Once. Just once.
But making love with Alec was the one thing she must avoid at all costs. If she didn’t avoid it, all her efforts would have been in vain.
The Circle of Light was here. So very near. That strange sense of certainty had never left her. Once she found it, both she and Alec could resume their lives as they had been before they ever met.
All she had to do was find the Circle—find it soon! Then she could go back to Ireland. Home to Castle McDonough.
And far, far away from Alec McBride.
Chapter Fourteen
Fast in the grip of a powerful desire, his erection heavy and thick and pounding, Alec rolled to his back and shot to his feet.
Have it your way, Duchess. The next time will be mine.
Out in the hall, he plowed his fingers through his hair and leaned against the wall. He swore, a vile and vicious curse. Christ, his mind was in a fog when she was near. A battle warred deep in his soul. He couldn’t think. Hunger still burned. Desire scalded his veins.
