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The wee Seelie princess had intrigued him with her compassion for humans. Most Fae did not have the same attitude about humans as did the Milesians, who had once been human. The Milesians had affec
tion for the human race and did what they could to spare them from the horrors of Dark Magic.
In many respects, caring about and protecting the Human Realm was their purpose … and here she was with the compassion so many of her kind lacked. It was one of the qualities that piqued his interest and made him look closer at her.
She was stunningly beautiful with that flaming red hair all about her face, falling thickly to her back, and he had imagined her naked, as she was now, but not like this.
He stared at her breasts as he washed her but avoided touching them while she slept. It wouldn’t be right, but hot damn, his dick throbbed for her.
He lusted for her, he knew, but something else pulled him towards her, something that was getting damned impossible to resist.
The thought of her dying had been unbearable.
Watching her suffer had been physical torture.
Och, how she had known, and charged, and moved, and beat the bastard at his own game in his own den! Clever—brave little beauty going after the wand even knowing he would strike at her.
He put his hand on her heart, willed his strength into her, and watched as the strained look of pain left her face.
“What have ye done to me, lass? I doona think I will ever be the same …”
He didn’t stop giving until he saw the bruising fade completely. The flesh and muscle were repairing themselves, and that would take a bit longer, but he had given her all she needed to recover now. In a matter of days she would be her old self.
He grimaced to himself as he stood and paced. “What are ye doing, LeBlanc?” he asked out loud. Just what are ye doing?
He was taking time out from finding Pestale.
He couldn’t afford to do that. Every hour would give Pestale more time to work his evil magic and hide in its depths.
You doona have a choice, he answered himself. “Ye lie, LeBlanc … ye have a choice, but ye doona want it.”
“What are you lying about?” Royce asked softly as she lifted her head. “What choice?”
He smiled and sat back down beside her. “What ye need to do is rest … doona worry yerself aboot anything.” His accent was once again thick with his heavy emotions.
* * *
She heard his mumblings through the haze of sleep he had put her under. She willed herself to wake and listened to him mutter. What was he talking about? What he answered did not satisfy her, and the fact that his accent was much thicker than usual told her he was terribly worried about something.
She looked around and asked, “Where are we?”
“In Dravo … at m’manor house …” And then he grinned like a wicked boy. “And ye be in m’bed.”
She knew he had helped heal her by giving her his strength. She touched his hand, the hand that held her face. “Thank you … how long will it take for you to recover?”
“A day … no more.”
“A day when you could be chasing down Pestale,” she said on a heavy sigh. “I am so sorry.”
“I’d be sorrier if ye were suffering, and I wouldn’t have left yer side till ye were healed completely anyway, so we will go when ye are and not before. If we are meant to find and destroy Pestale … we will.”
By Danu, she thought all at once, she loved him—with all her heart, she loved him. And something in her eyes must have gotten through to him, for he cursed beneath his breath and told her, “I’m the lowest of lows, taking advantage of ye now … but, lass, lass …” He sounded desperate as he bent and brushed her lips sweetly with his own.
She pressed her mouth against his boldly, and when she parted her lips, his tongue took the invitation without hesitation. He held her face gently, but she felt it the moment he started to draw away.
“Och no, no, lass … what kind of cad kisses a woman when she canna say no …”
“I don’t want to say no,” she said in a small voice.
