Drake grunted softly. He had seen Dinescu—a big bull of a man if ever there was one, and old enough to be the girl’s father. Little wonder she had run away. “Why did you come here?”
“I had nowhere else to go, and I . . . I thought the castle was empty. I didn’t mean to eat your dinner, but I was so hungry, and it looked so much better than what I brought . . . and . . .” She realized she was babbling and closed her mouth.
Drake shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The food and wine were for you.”
“But . . . I . . . Thank you, Mr. . . . ?”
“Just Drake.” He grinned faintly. She had fed him. It had only been right that he offer her nourishment in return.
She sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest. “I’ll be going now.”
“No need.”
She scrambled off the bed, panic engulfing her. Did he mean to keep her here against her will? Had she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire? For all she knew, he could be a rapist or a mass murderer.
“I’ve been trouble enough,” she said quickly, and started for the door, only to get her feet tangled in the blankets.
He caught her as she stumbled forward, one long arm curling around her waist, drawing her body against his.
Elena stared up at him, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She had never been held so tightly before, never been in a man’s arms like this. She was instantly aware of the hard length of his body pressed intimately against hers, of his big hand splayed over the small of her back, of just how tall and broad he was. She had no doubt he could break her in two with no trouble at all.
She gazed up into his eyes—eyes so dark a blue they were very nearly black. Fear mingled with uncertainty as he continued to hold her close, his hand sliding lazily up and down her spine. And then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
This man’s kiss was nothing like her uncle’s. A delicious warmth spread through every inch of her, draining the strength from her legs, filling her with a sweet lethargy, and an unexpected yearning to sink into his embrace and never leave. She inhaled and his scent filled her nostrils. For a moment, she tried to place it, but it was an earthy, musky scent like nothing she had experienced before. Like everything else about him, it was compelling.
His lips moved over hers, slowly exploring their taste and texture, nibbling at the corners.
Feeling suddenly light-headed, Elena grasped his shoulders. A soft moan rose in her throat as she swayed against him. And then his tongue was sliding over her lips, probing gently. It sent a shaft of heat straight to the core of her being and she moaned again. She had intended it to be a cry of protest so he would release her. Instead, he drew her closer, his hand delving into her hair to cup the back of her head as he kissed her again, harder, deeper, until she wasn’t aware of anything but his mouth on hers, the rapid beating of her heart, the heat spreading through her, pooling low in the depths of her being.
What was he doing to her? She had never felt like this before, never dreamed a man’s kisses could be so intoxicating.
If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she was certain she would have collapsed at his feet when he took his mouth from hers. Breathless, she could only stare up at him.
“Like I said, there is no need for you to go.”
She blinked at him.
“You will be safe here.”
Elena nodded. “Safe.” She lifted her fingers to her lips as she watched him stride out the door, and wondered if she would ever feel safe again.
The next day, Elena awoke fully intending to leave the castle, but somehow she couldn’t summon the will to do so. Sitting up, she noticed three dresses spread across the foot of the bed, along with four pairs of jeans, several T-shirts and sweaters in a rainbow of colors, a small pile of modest underwear, and six pairs of socks.
Leaning forward, she ran her hands over the dresses. She rarely wore anything but jeans, shorts, and T-shirts. She certainly didn’t wear dresses made of silk, fancy or plain.
Rising, she picked one up and held it in front of her. It was sky blue and as soft as . . . silk. It could only have come from Drake, but why would he buy her clothes? And shoes, she thought, noting a pair of sandals and a pair of running shoes on the floor beside her sneakers.
Suddenly curious to try on the blue silk, she took off the clothes she had slept in, pulled the dress over her head, and smoothed it over her hips. It fit as though it had been made for her, which begged the question, how had he known her size?
She pondered that for several minutes; then, eager to see how she looked in the blue silk, she glanced around the room, only then noticing there wasn’t a mirror in sight.
She was wondering if she might find one elsewhere in the castle when the big gray cat padded into the room. It leaped effortlessly onto the bed, then sat there, head cocked to one side, watching her.
She had the oddest feeling that it was admiring her.
With a shake of her head, Elena changed into a pair of jeans and a purple T-shirt and went downstairs in search of something to eat. Another feast awaited her in the main hall—fresh fruit and a square of cheese, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, a pot of honey butter and another of jelly, a flagon of wine. She poured herself a glass, wishing for coffee instead.
It had been in Elena’s mind to leave the castle before nightfall, but it occurred to her that leaving would be foolish. In spite of his fearsome appearance, Drake didn’t seem to mean her any harm. He had provided her with food, gifted her with a wardrobe . . . She frowned. Was she being naïve, thinking he didn’t expect anything in return for his generosity? Would it be rude to ask what his motives were? Better rude than foolish, she decided. She could only think of one thing he would want from her, and she wasn’t about to part with that, not for all the silk dresses in the county.