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He took hold of her hands and brought them to his lips. “Nay, I should apologize for speakin’ without thinkin’. My words were nae as kind as they could’ve been. In truth, I just wanted my sisters to be quiet. They get carried away and I dinnae want that.”
“What an odd pair we are, eh?” She met his gaze shyly. “The servants are probably already searchin’ for things they can stuff into their ears, fearin’ our marriage is goin’ to be a loud one.”
Felix’s stomach tightened, finding a different meaning in those last words. For if they had the passion to argue and squabble as they did, perhaps they would find another way to use that passion, to counter their conflicts. The rough and the smooth, the sweet and the sour, the fire and the ice.
“Might we begin anew?” he said softly. “A fresh start, forgetting past animosity between us?”
She nodded. “I would like that.”
Seeing her in the tower by herself, in the place he called his sanctuary, he had not felt aggravated by her intrusion. There had been no impulse to seize her and tell her to get out, nor did he feel like she had sullied the sanctity of the place. Reading his private thoughts had been a slight betrayal, perhaps, but he saw the good in it, too—if she had read his thoughts, then he did not have to find the words to explain them. He had always been more articulate in his writing than in his speech.
“It will be a hard path for us to walk, I expect,” she murmured, squeezing his hands.
He nodded. “Then, I will carry ye.”
“Ye willnae!” A grin lifted the corners of her full lips, her eyes shining with mischief. “I already have bruises from the last time ye did that.”
“I will,” he repeated. “Nay matter how ye thrash and wriggle, I will.”
To punctuate his promise, he caught her under the knees and slid his other arm behind her back, scooping her up into his arms. She shrieked as he lifted her off the chair and began to carry her around the tower room, kicking out her legs playfully as he did so.
Her fists beat lightly against his chest. “Ye cannae just do that whenever we argue!”
“Why nae? It seems to be workin’.” He laughed, and as her head turned, their eyes met.
With their faces so close and the rich scent of honeysuckle overwhelming his senses, his breath lodged in his throat. Her lips were a whisper away, and her gaze shone with something akin to desire, as her eyes flitted down to his mouth and back up once more. His gaze followed the same path, his chest and stomach clenching as he saw her lips part like an invitation.
Driven by a power he could not control, his mouth claimed that invitation. His lips grazed hers with a hunger he had never known, eager to feel the brush of her kiss in return.
For a moment, it did not come. Her lips were frozen, her fingernails digging into his back and chest as if she did not know whether to hit him or hold him. Then, like a silence being broken by the most beautiful chorus, she kissed him back. Tentative and shy and clumsy at first, her hand slid up the back of his neck and into his hair, cradling his head as if to steady her kisses.
To his delighted amusement, it seemed to work, for her kiss grew in confidence. Guided by his lips, she kissed with equal fervor, their lips meeting in a ravenous rush that ignited sparks throughout his body. The fire splintered down to his loins, stoking them to a searing heat as he met her lips again and again, slow and fast and sensual and wild, all at once.
Needing more, he set her down on her feet and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her feverishly as his hands danced up her back and stole a mischievous caress of her divine backside. She was soft and feminine and intoxicating, and he could not get enough now that he had had a taste.
As he ran his fingertips through her hair, moaning at the push of her breasts against him and the way her hands flirted shyly with his hips, not knowing where to put them, he urged her toward the nearest wall. There, she curved her leg around his, intertwining them as if she wanted to be a part of him, her breaths gasping against his lips. She could not have known what that did to him, for it brought the strain of his manhood closer to her secrets, restrained only by his belted plaid and her skirts.
Spurred on by his maddening desire for the woman who would be his wife, he grasped her skirts and gathered them until her creamy thigh was exposed. Lightly biting her lower lip, feeling a tremor course through him as she moaned, he ran his hand up that exquisite thigh.
Ye cannae, ye cannae…a warning flared in his mind,daenae fall for her!
His hand jolted away as if he had been stung, her skirts tumbling back down to the floor. Slowly, he drew his hands from her tantalizing figure and stepped backward. Her expression almost sent him back into her arms, as her eyes widened in confusion and her fingertips pressed against the lips he had just abandoned.
Turning sharply, he left the tower without a word, for he did not trust what his heart and his desire might have compelled him to say.
CHAPTER11
For two daysand two nights, Edwina had not seen hide nor hair of Felix. She had tried a few times to seek an audience with him, only to be told that he was taking care of the brigands in the forest, to make the path to and through McMorrow lands safe again. She wanted to believe that was the only reason he was staying away from her, but she knew better. Worst of all, she did not know what she had done to gain his avoidance.
“What have ye to look sullen about?” an unpleasant voice rankled Edwina as she crossed the courtyard, heading for the stables so she could ride to Castle Millar.
She turned to find Kenney leaning against the tower wall. “This is my thinkin’ face, nae my sullen face. Ye’ve seen plenty of the latter to ken that.” She paused. “What are ye still doin’ here, anyway, lingerin’ like a foul smell? I figured ye’d be back at my faither’s house by now, clearin’ out what’s left of me in the rooms.”
“All in good time,” he replied with a smirk. “I wouldnae miss the weddin’ that I brought about, now, would I? It’s nae often that yer stubborn, defiant cousin gets married.”
Edwina glared at him. “I wish ye would miss it. In truth, I wish ye’d go back to that Manor that ye’ve barely a right to, so I can watch ye ruin everythin’ that my faither built with dignity and ease, and see yer downfall from the comfort of this Castle. Havin’ the title of Earl doesnae make ye one, Kenney, and ye couldnae be less suited to the role if ye tried.”
“Ye dare to speak to me like that?” She had known it would antagonize him, and she did not care.
