He raised his brows, obviously surprised at her honest admission. “I confuse and scare you. Because of my moods. Candid, huh?”
Then his face jerked to the side, away from her hands, from her, as if he needed a moment to compose himself, as if she were a bomb, the detonation imminent.
The last golden rays of sunlight that passed through the clouds and warmed her room danced over him, reverently caressing his ink-black eyebrows, thickly lashed green eyes, and lush lips.
“You don’t have to worry about my impulses and moods. I’m willing to . . . be cautious for you . . . temper them.” He frowned. “But I’m not going to apologize for who I am.”
“You misunderstood me,” she said, gently touching the lines on his brow. “It’s I who suddenly don’t know how to behave. I am utterly lost.”
He lifted her hand and intertwined their fingers. “You’re lost? In what way?”
She scrunched up her pert nose. “For example, you invited yourself to my bedroom, and now I don’t know what to do.”
You don’t want me here? His frown just increased. He was quiet as he stared at her face. For interminable moments.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you angry?”
“Nae,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. “Do you want me to wait in the living room?”
“No, not really,” she answered and swallowed. “But I have no idea of what to do. I’ve never ever welcomed a man into my bedroom.”
He had to force his jaw not to drop open. “Are ye serious?”
“Yes, I am serious. I’m . . . scared, but you have no idea how much it excites me,” she whispered. A faint blush crept over her face and she waved her hand in the air. “I don’t know what to do about it. How to behave.”
Those bold green eyes held hunger and yearning and stark, unabashed want.
And something more.
Something that he was afraid of—and that frightened her.
“Shall I give you some lessons?” he asked, dazzling her with one of his rare full-fledged smiles. “Starting now?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Laetitia and her shy ways were so unequivocally charming, feminine, and innocent that they called to his every masculine instinct. He stood up, circling the chair to stop in front of her. In a swoop, he picked her up in his arms.
She squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“Lesson number one starts now,” he said, entering her bathroom and depositing her on the floor. “Shower.”
“Together?” She gaped at him as he undid the belt of her coat, letting it fall to the floor.
His mouth brushing against hers, he disengaged her bra and pushed it from her arms. Kissing his way down, he spoke against her skin, “Aye, I’m going to wash this silky silver cascading hair of yours. Lather every inch of your creamy skin.” He pushed her panties down, his hands caressing her legs and calves. From his kneeling position, he looked up at her and licked her navel. “Wet every single inch of you.”
Her eyelids heavy, her tongue licked her lips. “And I . . .” want to do the same to you.
“And you?” He stood, took off his clothes, and put on a condom.
As if attracted to a magnet, her hands fluttered over his skin, tracing the small and faded scars on his broad, chiseled chest. “I don’t know what I want. I just want.”
His lips curled up, and with his hands spanning her waist, he walked her backward and slid the stall door open.
“You can do whatever you want with me.” She closed her eyes as he bent his head and kissed her again.
A mere brush of lips that left her yearning for more.
Blindly, she turned the water knob. And he laughed low against her mouth, that rumble that reverberated from inside his chest and warmed her all the way to her toes.
“Tavish.” She looped her hands around his neck and pulled his head down and licked his lips, tracing the contours of his full mouth and sucking it between her teeth. “You’re edible.”
She didn’t even notice they were getting all wet, when he moved her to the opposite wall. All she could feel was his smile on her mouth and his skin under her palms. The fire consuming her body.
He kept kissing her, his mouth warm, his tongue gliding smoothly on hers.
When he flattened her back against the tiles, he bent and easily lifted her completely up, his hands supporting her bottom. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting his head to kiss him deeper.
He lowered her onto himself, so slowly, she barely noticed except the exquisite pleasure that rippled through her.
“More,” she moaned. He pushed the rest of the way into her tightness in one swift pass until he filled her completely, making her insides stretch to accommodate him. “Yes! It feels so good.”
When he moved, she moaned, and when he shifted her, she nearly screamed. All she could think was that she was as wet outside as she was inside and that she needed more of him. “Tavish.”
His name on her lips was an aphrodisiac he drank eagerly. It made him burn to take her the way he’d been craving since the first day he had seen her.
To control her body.
To claim her soul.
To make her his.
She opened her eyes and focused on his.
“I’m so hard for you, Laetitia.” The look of wonder on her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Come for me.”
The sensations, hot and wet, slid over her skin, inside her. It was intense.
She pressed all of herself onto his chest and threw her head back. “Oh, Tavish.”
Their coming together wasn’t as soft as it had started, but rough and raw.
Mine. He came hard, feeling the pleasure consume him from head to toe, the last thrust overwhelming him. He kissed her with a ferocity elicited by an emotion he had never felt before. A feeling he had been longing to feel all his life.
“Laetitia.” Panting, he leaned his forehead on hers. He didn’t know what he was waiting for her to say; he didn’t even know if he was asking anything. He just wanted to hear her name on his lips. “Laetitia.”
Her legs tightened around his waist, her fingers threading gently through his wet hair. Somehow, she felt the need he hadn’t been able to voice. “I’m going nowhere.”
Her clean winter honeysuckle scent and silky touch suffused his body with peace. Not even the fog that completely filled the stall could blind him from the sweet gentleness that emanated from her. For him, Laetitia was much more than a sexy body and beautiful woman who enchanted him.
And he didn’t know what to make of that at all.
Laughing, he left the steamy bathroom with her again in his arms, both of them wrapped in towels.
“I need to buy a tall chair to bathe you.”
He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you’ll like the marble seat I have inside my shower stall.”
They stumbled on the bed, he rolling her over his body, enjoying the feeling of her softness on his hardness. “Are you ready for lesson number two?”
“Mercy,” she whispered, eyes rounding.
“Nae, not that kind of lesson.” He laughed harder. Taking the towel from her head, he started to dry her hair gently and brush it with his fingers. “Unending virility only happens in books, Laetitia. We real men need at least a few minutes”—he winked—“to recover.”
She sighed, relieved. “Thank God.”
He rolled onto his back and put a hand over his heart, dramatically. “I’m wounded, Sprite. I thought—”
Just then her phone rang.
Damn, Liz. I’m so killing you. She scooted to the edge of the bed to grab it.
But it wasn’t Elizabeth’s number on the screen.
During the time they had been in the shower, there had been five unanswered calls from another number she didn’t recognize, this being the sixth.
Laetitia paled.
For one humming minute they gazed at each other; in her eyes there was fear; in his, a dare.
He dared her to answer the call, but she did not.
It went to voicemail.
“Play it,” he said; his quiet voice indicated he was not asking.
“No. This is some psycho trying to scare me.” She shook her head fiercely, wet strands of hair gluing to her face.
“Just some psycho who knows exactly what scares you. Play it, Laetitia,” he ordered, his fingers curling around her wrist. He left no room to doubt he would take the phone from her hand and do it himself if she didn’t. “And put it on the speaker.”
Her sigh was resigned now, as she touched the voice-recording button. Nothing for the first six seconds—and then the owl screech.
Laetitia closed her eyes tightly, as if without seeing, she could also manage to not hear.
It went for a less than half a minute, and then a male voice said, “Freak, I—”
A blast echoed. A garbled scream and a gurgled noise followed.
“He’s been taken care of,” a male voice said.
The line went dead.
Laetitia’s face paled even more.
She gripped the phone so hard that her knuckles went white. As if detached from her body, she saw her other hand lift to delete the message, as she had done with the previous one.
“Nae!” Tavish yanked the mobile from her hand and shook her by the shoulders. “Laetitia. This message is important. It’s the second threat to your life. And . . .” I am quite sure the man on the other side of the line has been killed. Or at least seriously wounded.
She shut herself down; apart from her paleness and the fear in her eyes, there was no expression on her face.
He cupped her face in his big hands. “Laetitia. Talk to me.”
She lowered her eyelids. “I know nothing about it.” Please, don’t ask, please.
“Are you certain?” She’s a menace to herself. A shadow of concern crossed his face. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”
I wish it would help. She shook her head.
Obstinate woman! He scrubbed his hand down his face and drew in a rough breath. “Laetitia.”
“Tavish Uilleam.” She said his name in the same terse mode he did. But in her soft voice it sounded so odd, so out of character. She’d be willing to volunteer more information, if she wasn’t so afraid of letting him down, of losing him. Maybe if he knows more about you, he’ll understand. He’ll stay.
He shifted his focus from her to the painting on the wall in front of her bed; he needed a distraction. The rage was enough to choke him.
His sister-in-law, Sophia, had once called him Lord Mood-Swing and he was starting to believe the truth of her words. In less than twenty-four hours, he had gone through so many divergent moods.
Wrestling the reins of control from him required mental and emotional power, and Laetitia’s successes were to be praised, because no one had done it before. And he feared it would cause damage; it could reduce him to such a state he would despise himself for acts he wasn’t even aware of doing.
She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen, but his scowl was so dark Laetitia held her breath.
He inhaled deep.
Once.
Twice.
Then, for a brief, terrifying moment, he was still.
He made no sound. No movement. No reaction at all. Not even a blink.
Then he inhaled again and exhaled hard. He would never let his torments hurt someone so precious as Laetitia. Never.
And he would allow no harm to befall her.
“Understand me now. As much as there is a hidden strength behind this softness of yours, you are fragile—fragile as a snowdrop, as a little elf. I have special training that you don’t have. I’ll ensure your safety.” It was calmly stated in that quiet way of his: not the calm before the storm but the already violent storm approaching from the horizon; the violence etched in the sleet with no chance of containment. He paused, considering his next words. Just say it, Tavish Uilleam. “So give me a chance and cooperate. Otherwise you might end up hurt. Or dead, as the guy on the other side of the line probably is.”
She blanched as if waking up from a bad dream. “You think . . .”
“That sounded like a gunshot,” he answered honestly. “Do you want to tell me something, anything, about that?”
The path she had chosen was not the best one but the only one she could choose. Her soul broke into a million pieces on the night she discovered she had been fooled, and then it had all happened too fast for her to understand. The new fragments she found every day created a disturbing but soothing mosaic. Her deconstruction and reconstruction had been painful, but there were parts yet to be finished and parts she was sure would never fit again. With each new sunrise, she strengthened. And it was coming back
“Understand?”
“Yes.” Her lips trembled and a tear slid down her face. And then another.
“So, that was lesson number two.” He brushed his fingertips over her cheek, not pressuring. “Lesson number three: cuddling.”
“Tavish . . . I—I’m not feeling very well,” she said drowsily.
Oh, fuck. He nestled her better against him and drew the comforter over them, holding her shaking body in his arms. “It’s the shock. It will pass.”
I want to tell you. “I—I—” Teeth shaking, she curled on herself, and then burrowed into his arms, as if she could disappear into his warmth.
“Shh, it’s OK,” he said, running his hands briskly over her arms and torso. “I’m here. I’ll be always here.”
She didn’t know how long he whispered soothingly, the words making no sense to her. His heartbeat thumped steadily against her cheek; his hand hypnotically caressed the line of her spine, until she closed her eyes in sleep.
Tavish, on the other hand, wasn’t taking his lesson to the letter. His mind was churning with the calls Laetitia had received.
He would have dismissed them as a hoax, if it had been just one, and if she hadn’t been so frightened by the owl’s screech. Whoever did it knew what he was doing. And did it twice.
That they could come up close and personal and hurt her made him think for the first time in a very long time of strategies and battles. He was a survivor, and he wouldn’t be dissuaded from protecting her with all he had.
He pulled her closer to his chest, not aware she was embarking on a nightmare.
Stealthily, Laetitia walked to the edge of the dark wood. Eerie noises sounded around her: a twig breaking, a branch snapping, an animal rustling by. Surrounded by a dense fog, an abandoned church shaped itself slowly into view. Overgrown ivy covered the rocky walls, and large stained glass windows that had once depicted images of angel children were broken.
Old tombs formed a row leading to a church. Sinister statues, some without eyes, seemed to be staring at her no matter which way she moved.
A tall, lean frame rose from the fog behind the graves. Seeing the sensual way his robes moved, she knew it was he.
An overwhelming feeling of dread overcame her, and she felt like her chest was going to cave in.
She looked up. Perched on a tree branch was a barn owl maliciously ogling her. Its chilling screech gave her goose bumps. A banshee was announcing an upcoming death. She decided the church was a better place to be than in a cemetery.
Upon stepping up the stairs and opening the door, she felt something was off with the building. She tried to back away, but a strong current of cold air pushed her in, and the door banged shut and locked. The inside of the church was freezing cold.
And very quiet.
Not that the silence put her off. No. It was the complete absence of sound, as if the world outside had just vanished. She sat in the last pew and put her head in her hands.
Footsteps echoed above her head, and the organ suddenly came to life, music blaring dissonantly, starting over and over again.
Hyperventilating, she saw the omnipresent figure moving in her direction. He carried something in the crook of one arm. Pausing in front of her, the man threw h
is hood back.
The organ stopped.
“You shouldn’t have left.” Now, there were two figures looming over her, but they didn’t have the same face or the same voice anymore. “I know what you did.”
“I’m sorry.” She wanted to cover her eyes, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she did. It’d already happened, and she wouldn’t be acquitted. She only didn’t want it to happen again.
The sturdy structure shook on its foundations. Her sobs, mixed with soft baby cries, echoed in the church.
Pulled by an unseen force, she rose and accepted the small bundle from one of the men.
It was then that it dissolved in blood.
She gasped out loud, and her eyes flew open. Under her face, Tavish’s chest, which was moving rhythmically, jerked, and just like that he was alert.
“Laetitia.” He pushed up and assessed her. “What’s wrong?”
She looked around, partly orienting herself and partly assuring herself that only half of the dream was real. “Just a dream.”
“Come here.”
She snuggled close, needing the warmth and heat that were so part of him.
His protective manner melted the chill in her heart, and she closed her eyes, enjoying and trusting him to take care of her. “Are you hungry?”
“Now that you said it, yes, I am.” She looked at her clock. It was half past five in the afternoon. “Why don’t we dress in warm clothes and go down for a hot chocolate and some croissants, hmm?”
Wickedness entered his eyes. “I know better ways to keep you warm.”
“Shoo, insatiable Highlander.” She battled his wandering hands and hopped from the bed, carrying the comforter with her and wrapping it around her body.
He chuckled. “Are you shy?”
“Modesty never hurt anyone.” She blushed faintly as she padded to her wardrobe and took plain white lingerie, a cotton long-sleeve shirt, an orange turtleneck sweater, and a long black wool skirt.
“Nor looking at beauty,” he replied, his voice muffled by the shirt being pulled over his head.
It was with a light step that she entered her bathroom.