Page 20 of Laird Of Her Heart

“Is there any toilet paper?” she asked, although it was a foolish question. “I mean something to wipe with?”

He tipped his head to the side and studied her as though she were an animal in the zoo. He ripped a bunch of leaves from a branch and handed them to her without a word.

Leaves.

She squeezed her eyes shut and did what she had to do. But honestly, in that moment, she didn’t like the thirteenth century in the least.

* * *

She was a funny thing.

So confident and intelligent, but at the same time, so utterly clueless, as though she really did not belong in this place, in this world whatsoever.

As a child Dominic had been told stories about the fairies who visited from another realm to cause mischief, steal babies and occasionally mate with the human folk. If he’d had a whimsical bone in his body, he could have believed she was one of them.

But she was no fairy.

She was flesh and bone.

Human.

It had killed him watching her tug down her breeks, exposing her long legs and that delicious ass. He wanted to see her whole body, bare before him. Writhing.

If he had any sense, tonight he would strip her naked before he tied her up.

And hell.

What hell that thought unleashed in his gut.

She stood and fastened her pants—much to his regret—and then turned to face him. He tried to conceal his thoughts from her, but probably failed, because her eyes widened. Memories of the night before, holding her, kissing her, testing the exquisite weight of her breasts, howled through him. Her lips parted. Her tongue peeped out and hunger boiled.

Slowly, they approached each other, step by step.

He reached up and tucked a wild curl behind her ear. Lord she was lovely. Her eyes were clear, her complexion flawless. Her expression welcoming.

He bent his head, savoring the moment, savoring the anticipation of tasting her again.

A growl behind him made his heart stop

The little hairs of his neck stood on end.

He ripped his gaze from hers and whirled, keeping her behind him, shielding her from this menace.

An enormous, scarred beast stood in the shadows of the trees, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its maw. A wolf.

Shite.

What had he been thinking, coming out into these woods alone? That he might steal a kiss?

Fool.

Wolves were a constant danger to hunting parties; the scent of blood drew them.

And Dominic had left his weapons in camp. All he had on him was a dirk.

Fear flickered in his breast. Not for himself. For her.

He at least had a chance.