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“Abandon me?” she whispered.
“Never,” he murmured, and skimmed his hand to the ties of her bodice and tugged on one frayed silk ribbon.
She watched his hard hand being so gentle with her, and began to tremble. “You are taking your life in your hands, Mac Con.” Her voice shook.
He slid his gaze up. “Right now?”
“By taking Rardove.”
“Ah.” He tugged on the laces harder.
“The queen will be enraged.”
“Are you?” he asked, his head bent, watching what he was doing to her bodice.
“You do not understand. The queen will destroy you.”
He leaned closer, put his mouth by her ear. “The queen will try.”
And somehow, with his body so close and his confidence firing the room, it actually seemed possible this Irishman might succeed, against the most powerful monarch in Christendom.
Madness. Hopeless, reckless, madness.
She curled her hands into fists. “Aodh, listen to me. It is not too late. We could write her. I could write her, on your behalf.”
His gaze lifted from her bodice. “You would do that for me?”
Her mind raced. “Yes, of course, I will write the queen—”
“There’ll be no messages,” he said firmly. “But I thank you.” Ever so gently, he kissed her cheek. “For worrying on me.” He skimmed his hands to her hips and, in a single move, lifted her and set her down on the table.
Before she could release a shocked gasp, he’d stepped between her knees.
An exhale of desire broke from her. “We c-cannot…” Her words drifted off, as she almost forgot what they could not do. “P-people do not...”
He bent his head so it rested directly beside hers. His hair-roughened cheek brushed against hers. “Which people?”
The question stunned her. Sane people. Wise people.
Scared people.
“There is nothing I will not do, Katarina.” Her blood began to course in a heated river through her limbs, down low into the juncture between her thighs. “There is nothing we cannot do, you and I.”
Nothing we cannot do.
What did that mean? She almost didn’t recognize the words, arranged in such an illogical order. There were a thousand things she could not do. Should not do. Must not do.
“It is but a matter of you, Katarina. What do you want? Right now, I will do anything for you.”
Chapter Nineteen
LOW AND COAXING, his words rumbled through her hair, equal parts temptation and threat, for what Katarina wanted right now was unutterable. Thrilling and confusing. She wanted him to take off his clothes, wanted to see the painted lines covering his body. How far did they go? She imagined dark, inked flames licking over his entire body. Did they go across his chest? His hard stomach? Down his thighs?
She wanted him to keep talking. Keep telling her what he wanted. Keep telling her all the impossible things they could do together.
She breathed into the space under their downturned faces. She could taste him, smell him. Leather and steel, musky masculinity. She felt almost weak from wanting.
“I want…” she whispered, shocked at how the words sounded leaving her lips.
