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That night, as Ian sat in the kitchen, he heard Regan’s footsteps in the hall, then heard her call out, “What’s this?”
He lifted his head from the Camberlaune Chronicle, shifting his gaze to her as she drew close to the marble island. She held up the new soft black leather jacket, the one he’d asked Ben to hunt down for him. For a last minute’s notice, Ben had done well. Of course, he had several trolls on his staff who’d probably done the leg work during the day given that trolls had no aversion to sunlight.
“You mean the jacket?”
“Well, yeah. Where did it come from? It looks almost identical to the one Margetta took from me.”
Regan looked amazing in her snug jeans and leather ankle boots. Her braided belt had cinched in her waist to a perfect hand-measuring size and he wanted his hands on her.
He’d awakened with an arousal so hard, he’d stayed in one position for a long time just trying to breathe. The urgency he’d experienced to cross to the guest room and take the woman in bed then and there still had his thighs in a restless state.
Even now, just looking at her and catching her sweet jasmine and lime scent, had him shifting in his seat and trying to get more comfortable. The needs of his cock fused with his mind, and he knew words of any kind wouldn’t come easily. Despite the handicap, he struggled on, forcing his mind to put a few sentences together. “Uh, the jacket. Yeah. I told Ben what happened and he found this for you.” He waved at the coat. “Hope it’s the right size. Olivia sent over the rest of your clothes and make-up. Everything okay?”
She frowned. “Everything’s fine.” She lowered her hand and stared at the jacket. “Great, really. And I do appreciate this.”
“Uh, good.” He repressed an eye-roll at his inability to properly express himself. But he couldn’t get over how pretty she looked with her smoky lavender eye-shadow swept to a point on each lid and her brows arched and dark with whatever women did to their eyebrows. He could tell she’d worked on her hair. It was poufy, the way she liked to wear it and had a sort of wave in back, in fact a few waves.
His gaze fell to her lips. She’d always had beautiful, full lips, and they gleamed with gloss, or at least he was pretty sure that’s what she called it. He wanted to spend some time getting it off her, taking some onto his own lips.
“Thanks for the compliment and the jacket,” she added, though her frown had deepened. She lay the jacket over the back of the nearest bar stool. “You’re acting kind of weird.”
He shook his head. “I feel weird. I don’t have any pain and my eyes don’t hurt anymore.”
Her arched brows rose. “They don’t?”
“Not even a little. Another side benefit of your recent donation, I guess. Want some coffee?” He rose as he spoke, and picked up a white ceramic mug, waving it in her direction, waiting for her decision.
“Uh, sure. Yes. Absolutely. Sweet Goddess, the swill Margetta served. It tasted like she rolled the beans in the mud before grinding them.”
He crossed to the coffee maker and poured her a cup. “You’ll like this, then. I have a colony of trolls in the mountains who do nothing but grow coffee beans. The Guardsmen take turns making sure the Invictus don’t bother them. We’re all addicted.”
He handed her the mug, which she took in both hands. Taking her first sip, she moaned softly.
The sound was unfortunate. He still remembered all the noises she could make when he had her in bed, from the softest coo to the throatiest groan. Of course, the utterances had nothing to do with tasting coffee and everything to do with his need to sit down again and try to ignore her or at least her damn womanly scent.
Goddess help him.
“I’m taking you back to Swanicott at full-dark.”
Her brows rose. “You think that’s wise?”
He drew a deep breath, trying to find some way to keep his lust for her from taking over. “I think it’s for the best.”
She sat down on the bar stool and shook her head. “Is it because of our lovely conversation earlier this morning?”
“Thought you’d bring that up.” He didn’t look at her as he reached for his own mug and took his time refilling. He then returned to his stool.
He needed her to leave, but she’d asked the right question: was it wise for her to go? He had nothing to offer her, no reason to prompt her to stay. “I told Zane about the fortress and the encampments.”
“What did he say?”
“Other than expressing his horror with a few well-chosen words, not much. I think we’re both in shock. He’ll be here in an hour or so. Stone as well. And I’ve had my communications center get in touch with the rest of the mastyrs, letting them know what’s going on.”
She nodded, staring at the counter. “Thanks again for being at the gorge, for hunting for me. I know I couldn’t have gotten out of there by myself.”
He frowned. “I’m still not sure why she didn’t make it harder for you to get away.”
She met his gaze square on. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. If she’d really wanted to keep me there, she would have posted guards or something. Or had a patrol on the roof. Or even chained me to the wall. Although …”
