Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(92)

“Nay! Wait!”

Shanna slowly dropped her extended hand and stared in amazement. There, filling the sun-bright portal, stood Attila. He had broken loose from his tether. The horse shook his head, snorted, and pawed the ground again. Reaching for his shirt, Ruark searched through it until he found the pocket.

“ ‘Tis the way I trained him,” he explained, holding out his hand for her to see two lumps of brown sugar candy. “He’s become overly fond of it, and I forgot to give him his ration.”

“Oh,” Shanna sighed weakly and sagged back against the wall limply. “That beast has frightened me into an early graying.”

The steed daintily nibbled the sweets from Ruark’s hand, crunching the sugar loudly and tossing his head in obvious pleasure. Ruark closed the door and leaned back against it, gazing across the room at Shanna. The guilt had dropped away from her, and Ruark devoured his treat as greedily as Attila had the candy. Her breasts glowed like amber melons in the muted light, and her slender limbs were laid bare to his heated gaze. Seeing where his interests wandered, Shanna reached for her chemise, giving him an accusing glance before she slipped the garment over her head.

“If you seek food with the same lust you do me,” her voice was light with humor, “you shall soon exceed my father’s girth.”

Ruark caught his arm around her waist as she rose to turn her gown and see to its drying.

“Would that my wasting body could feed upon such nourishment as I have found from you,” he murmured huskily, holding her close to him and smoothing her hair away from her shoulder. “But should my food come with the regularity of your love, I would be long dead of wanting. Like food, my need of you is a daily thing, and these lengthy fasts do not appease my hunger.”

“Daily! Ha!” Shanna leaned back against the circle of his arms and absently traced a finger in a pattern on his chest. “Your lust is a slavering dragon devouring all I can offer on the moment. I fear you would never get beyond the bedchamber door should we live as man and wife.”

Shanna’s brow suddenly furrowed as she stared at what her finger had drawn. Against his darker tan the white marks faded even as her eyes touched them, but they were burned like a brand into her brain. The words, “I love,” were unfinished, but still they dismayed her with their betrayal. She cringed as if pained, quickly pulled away from his embrace, and began to dress in fevered haste.

Confused by her abrupt change, Ruark watched her closely as he rolled one of his drawings and played with the cylinder of parchment.

“I had intended to spend the night here,” he began almost hesitantly. “Mister MacLaird gave me a lift up here when he brought supplies for the morrow’s work, but I left several sketches I shall need on the morrow. Will you give me a ride back?”

Shanna paused in drawing her gown over her head.

“You are welcome to the ride,” she murmured, sliding her arms into her dress and settling it on her hips. Once within the barrier of clothes, she calmed and presented her back to him, holding her hair aside.

“Will you lace me up?”

Ruark leisurely complied, taking his own good time as he settled one hip on the edge of the wooden planks of the table. He was reluctant to see the afternoon gone.

For the most part Shanna held still for his lengthy administering, though she reached across him once, bracing her hand on his thigh, to turn several sketches spread across the table. She studied them recognizing Ruark’s handwriting scrawled boldly across the bottom. As he gave a last tug on the strings, she turned.

“You’ve been working,” she commented, rubbing away a smudge of ink from the brown skin over his ribs.

Ruark smiled into the depths of twin aqua pools. “As I had no hopes of seeing you again today, Shanna, I put my mind to something less tormenting.”

Shanna scoffed playfully. “Pray tell, sir, how do I torment you? Do you see me as some witch who pricks you sorely for the sake of amusement? How can I, a mere woman as you see me now, trouble you so?”

Grinning lazily, Ruark folded his arms about her, drawing her between his legs, and brushed his lips against her temple.

“Aye, you’re a witch, Shanna. You have cast some strange spell over me that makes me yearn for you every moment of my waking.” His breath stirred the light curls that lay against her ear. “But you’re an angel, too, when you lie beside me soft and warm, letting me love you as I will.

Shanna placed a trembling hand across his lips, recognizing the quickening of her own pulse. The effect of those burning amber eyes was total and devastating.

“Say no more, devil dragon.”