Unable to stop himself, he pulled her closer, until their scents commingled and their bodies were aligned.
Then, he kissed her. Because he could. Because he couldnt not .
As soon as his lips touched hers, another wave of heat suffused his body and he heard what sounded like the barest of sighs in his head. Was his wolf that affected that the beast sounded so unlike himself?
The prospect was not a pleasant one on any count. It felt too much like weakness.
An anathema.
Refusing to give in to the sweetness of her lips, he stepped back from her.
She looked up with an expression he had no idea how to decipher. And he refused to allow himself time trying.
He deliberately turned away from the connection he felt to her and ripped the sheet from the bed. Your mother will have nothing to harp about now.
He stormed from the cottage, tossing the bloodied sheet at the feet of the baron. Lady Hamilton bent and grabbed it, examining it even as Talorc leapt to the back of his horse and looked to see if his wife had followed. She had. He bent to grab her. She settled in front of him without a murmur of protest.
He gave the signal and he and his warriors set their horses galloping north . . . toward home.
Abigail concentrated on not falling off Talorcs great beast of a horse. Until she realized the stone band around her middle that was his arm wasnt about to let her go anywhere. The horses were galloping so quickly, the green beauty around
No matter how considerate he was this day, the fact that he claimed not to hate her would not last indefinitely. If for no other reason than that she was not the innocent he and his warrior Niall believed her to be. She was lying to them by pretending to be something she was not. A whole woman, worthy of being a lairds wife.
For the first time, Abigail felt grief at the inevitability of her future. Talorc was not the monster she feared him, nor was he the barbaric animal her mother had claimed.
He had assigned his warriors to watch over her the night before, showing she had more value to him than she had to her parents. Even if she was English. He had also protected her from a soulless bedding Sybil had been only too happy to demand.
Abigail did not know what had led her to insist on adding her blood to his on that sheet. She only knew that something inside her had told her it was the right thing to do.
And he had respected the gesture. She had seen it in his eyes. Their incredible blue warming with approval, however brief. One day, probably sooner than later, that same blue would grow icy with distaste when he discovered her secret.
And there was naught she could do about it.
Talorc did not know what caused his new bride to draw back into herself, but he admitted, if only to himself, he did not like it.
He had enjoyed her pleasure in the ride, her laughter a truly beautiful sound. He shook his head. He was going as daft as she claimed him to be if he thought an Englishwomans laughter beautiful.
But she was not English any longer, was she? She was his .
Or so his wolf and his king claimed.
The beast had never laid such certain claim to another, not the members of his pack, not even of his family. The wolf howled for the moment when they reached Sinclair lands so they could claim Abigail in the most basic and irrevocable of ways. Words could be dismissed, but joining his body to hers could not be undone.
When Talorc called a halt to his men for the night, Abigails joy in the ride had given way to numb exhaustion. They had stopped only twice to water the horses, and only one of those times had they dismounted. They had eaten bread and cheese then, but that had been hours ago. Yet, as hungry as Abigail was, she was too tired to contemplate eating.
She stumbled into the forest to deal with her bodys most pressing needs. When she returned to the men and horses, Niall and one of the other warriors were erecting a small tent of skins.
He noticed her when she came near and nodded, his frowning visage not changing, but there was an understanding in his gray eyes that nearly moved her to tears.
I thought Highlanders slept under the stars, she found the energy to tease.
He smiled at that, pulling the scars on the left side of his face into a twisted grimace. Its for you, English.
Oh. She swallowed inexplicable tears. Thank you.
He shrugged and she decided that was the Scottish warriors answer when he did not want to be bothered with speaking.
When the other soldier finished putting furs inside the tent for her to sleep in, he left and only then did Abigails tired brain tell her she had been rude not to ask Niall for an introduction. When she said so, the giant scarred warrior gave her an odd look.
Talorc will make them known to you at the proper time.
Oh. She did not know what that meant and was too fatigued to try to make sense of it.
She turned toward the tent and stumbled. Niall was there faster than she could have imagined possible, stopping her from falling on her face.