It had been a ritual of hers, ingrained in her since she was young and one she wished she could abandon. She then added a good-sized log to the already roaring fire, knowing that once she crawled into bed, she would fall into a deep slumber, and she did not wish to wake to a cold room.
With a cupped hand around the candle’s flame, she carried the candlestick to the bed, placing it on top of the chest. After she was finally settled beneath the wool blankets and gave a final glance around the room, satisfied all was well, she blew out the flame.
She was grateful that the hearth cast enough light to keep the room from total darkness. She didn’t care for the dark though she had learned to survive it. She would sleep better knowing some light would greet her whenever she woke.
With a yawn and a stretch, she snuggled contentedly beneath the blanket and was asleep in seconds.
She felt the warm, earthy breath on her face. It wasn’t a heavy breath as if someone had run or walked a great distance, but a calm, steady, almost confident breath. And a weight settled over her as if she had been covered with a dense blanket.
And darkness, so much darkness that she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Good lord, she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was clamped shut, and no amount of struggle would release it. The weight shifted over her slow and easy, and she tensed as heat seeped into her body, alarming her senses as it spread. It was no heavy blanket that covered her. It was a man. A man’s body lay over the length of her.
No! No! It couldn’t be. She was dreaming. It was nothing more than a dream, and she had to get out of the dream. She had to get out of the darkness, had to fight to wake up. She would be all right once she woke. She would be safe.
Wake up, Carissa, for God’s sake, wake up!
Her eyes flew open and fear gripped her heart.
“I’ve got you.”
Carissa stared into startling green eyes, and her heart beat wildly.
“Did you truly think that you could escape me?” Ronan asked.
Carissa wasn’t surprised at the arrogance in his smile. What warrior wouldn’t feel such arrogant pride when having bested his prey? But that self-indulgent satisfaction could also be a vulnerable spot that she could use against him. He was so sure that he had captured her, and yet she had weapons close at hand, weapons she intended to use first chance she got.
The thought that there was still a possibility to escape this man calmed her pounding heart and relaxed her wide-eyed stare, but not for long. She suddenly realized that no blanket separated them, and that he was completely naked. His big, muscled body covered all of her, every inch. Through her wool nightshift, she could feel the cords of muscles that ran down his chest to his stomach, and his thick muscled legs made her slim ones appear puny in comparison.
But it was the thick bulge of him settled between her legs that had her heart once again pounding in her chest. Not that she worried he would force himself on her. He hated her too much for that, and, besides, she’d found the Highlanders to be honorable men, unlike the barbarians, who needed no reason to take a woman.
No, her worries rested more on how big this man was in every sense of the word, in the overall size of him, in his determination and in his convictions. A man of such tremendous strength and honor proved a difficult opponent to beat.
And beneath all that was the deep, dark secret she harbored that made every bit of this all the more difficult, but then she was who she was, and that would never change.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
Carissa couldn’t answer with his hand over her mouth.
“How can I reach my weapons?”
Her heart nearly stopped beating, while he smiled, and his green eyes filled with mirth.
“I found them,” he said with a hint of amusement.
She kept her eyes on his, intending not to show any fear, though it raced through her like an uncontrolled fire.
“There’s a question you will answer.”
She knew the question, and though it truly had no simple answer, that would be all she could give him. She nodded.
He moved his hand off her mouth, though his face remained close to hers.
“Why did you kill the slave who tended me?”
With her throat dry, she choked on her answer. “I had no choice.”
He jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at her. “That is no answer.”
She sat up slowly, knowing quick moves would only cause a quick reaction. “It is the only answer I have for you.”
Ronan shook his head. “No, there is more, and you refuse to tell me.”
She wished he would don at least his leggings, for his disregard of his nakedness made him appear even more of a formidable foe. But if she should suggest that he cover himself, he would surely view it as a sign of weakness. She had to pretend that his sculpted body awash with muscles disturbed her not in the least.