The Highlander's Bride(14)
With a gruff growl of annoyance, he attacked the table, breaking off one of the three legs with a vicious yank. He’d been too long without a woman, that was the problem, and Sara was his wife—he winced at the traitorous realization.
“Did you hurt yourself?” She rushed to his side and grabbed hold of his free hand.
Before he could stop her, she was stroking his palm. He watched her long, lean finger trace a path over every inch of his palm and he shut his eyes, lost in the exotic sensation. Lord, it felt good, so damn good.
Too damn good!
His eyes sprung open, and with a yank of his hand, he moved away from her.
She caught up with him. “You may have a splinter. Let me see.”
“You saw.”
“Not enough. Now give me your hand,” she said, holding out hers.
He shook his head. “No time. I need to get the fire started.” He walked around her, avoiding getting too close, broke off the remaining table legs and then attacked the chair, breaking it into several pieces. He got busy starting the fire, not that he needed any more heat. His body already generated a sweat, and it wasn’t from exertion.
How could an innocent touch spark such heat?
Too long. Too long. He had been too long without a woman. He needed to lose himself in a night of reckless passion and be done with it. He tossed a spindle from the chair into the flames.
Not so.
At one time, maybe that would have sufficed, but Alaina had changed all that.
“Let me see your hand now.”
Cullen glanced up from where he hunched in front of the hearth. Sara stood towering over him, hands planted on her curving hips, her bright red hair a mass of flaming curls that matched the fire’s glow.
He couldn’t keep himself from grinning. Her unruly hair certainly matched her nature, and damned if she didn’t intrigue him. Again with the intrigue. Why did this woman interest him? The question needed an answer, and if he were wise, he’d find the answer quickly.
“Afraid you may have to have a splinter removed?”
An intentional challenge, and of course one he couldn’t ignore. “I can handle it myself.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know you.”
She smiled and spread her arms wide. “I’m your wife.”
He tossed the last of the broken wood in the flames, brushed his hands off and stood tall. She was near eye level with him and didn’t flinch a muscle or bat an eyelash when he moved closer to her.
“Not an obedient one.”
She laughed. “You know your wife well.”
He tweaked her nose gently. “Not yet, but I will.”
He thought the innuendo would unnerve her, but she laughed softly, as if she found him amusing.
“Yes, you will.” She poked his chest. “When I let you.”
She turned her back on him, and for a moment he almost reached out, grabbed her, and spun her around to kiss that smug grin off her face. He was damned sure she hadn’t been kissed, or if she had, it was probably an innocent peck that did little if nothing for either party.
Wait until she tasted a real kiss. She was in for a surprise.
“I’m hungry.”
His head jerked around.
Her blue-green eyes rounded, along with her widening smile. “Have you any of that cheese and bread left?”
He silently cursed his sinfully straying thoughts and nodded. “That and more.”
“Good.” She rubbed her hands together. “We’ll picnic on the bed.”
He glanced over at the single bed as he reached for the sack of food attached to the rolled bedding. They would share a bed tonight, a narrow one. Would she wish to share more?
Cullen tossed her one of the blankets, and as if she sensed his instructions, she went to the bed and spread it out. She shed her cloak and sandals and hopped on the bed, crossing her legs beneath her skirt.
He dropped the sack of food in front of her and caught the edge of the bed to sit, choosing to keep his feet planted firmly on the earthen floor. Sara paid him no heed. She was too busy untying the sack of food and spreading it out between them, while nibbling on pieces that just happened to fall in her lap.
“You did a fine job on the fire.” She handed him a chunk of dark bread and a hunk of cheese.
“I have some skills.” He took the food, realizing he was famished. He hadn’t eaten since last night, having wanted to get an early start, and then with the snow surprising them, there had been no time for food.
“Tell me of them.”
He shrugged. “My skills are no more, no less, than other men.”
“There’s a good quality you have.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t boast,” Sara said. “Most men boast.” She deepened her voice to that of a man’s. “I can do this and I can do that and I have this and I have that.”