The Daring Twin - Donna Fletcher Page 0,56
cottage where Aliss kept vigil over the mother and newborn.
“Winter draws near,” Tarr said, and took off the wool cloak he had donned, draping it over Fiona’s shawl-covered shoulders as they left the hall and walked slowly through the village.
His hand lingered a moment, a brief moment at her shoulder, then fell away, but his touch was enough to spark her body—and she cursed her emotions for responding so easily, but then her body forever responded to his touch, simple or intimate, it did not matter. Her blood soon fired, her flesh tingled between her legs, and she grew moist.
She wanted him.
Why?
A stupid question. She loved him.
Or could she be only curious?
Idiot.
She fought with herself, and who could possibly emerge victorious when one battled with oneself?
“Something troubles you?” Tarr asked, reaching out and, with a little struggle, taking the basket from her.
Fiona shrugged. She was surrendering to this man more and more. She needed no one to carry things for her. And yet—it seemed so natural to let him.
“You do not answer me.”
“I am thinking,” she snapped.
He simply looked at her patiently waiting for her to reply, which annoyed her all the more.
“Why the change of heart?” she demanded, stopping in the middle of the village, thankful it was late enough for all to be snug inside their cottages.
His brow knitted.
“Do not play the fool. You know what I speak of. You suddenly decide that Aliss can remain with your clan. Why now?”
That he was uncomfortable by her confrontation was obvious. He looked off into the night sky, moved uneasily in place, and then reluctantly turned to glare at her.
“I realized you and your sister belong together.”
“Now? This moment in time, when there is a good chance I need not heed the agreement reached between the MacElders and the Hellewyk clan? How convenient for you.”
“You think I do this to keep you?”
Fiona wanted to shout yes, yes, tell me that you would do anything to keep me; tell me you love me. Instead she challenged him. “Do you?”
She watched him struggle with his response. He drew his broad shoulders back as if in defense, his head went up, his eyes narrowed, and his lips appeared stuck together purposely, preventing him from answering.
Suddenly he dropped the basket to the ground, reached out, grabbed hold of her shoulders, and yanked her against him, claiming a kiss before she could object.
His grinding kiss jarred her senses. He demanded, expected, insisted—and what did she do?
She surrendered willingly, melting into his kiss that robbed her of any sensible thought or reason. His tongue proved an awesome weapon and one that she had no desire to combat. With a thrust and a jab he had completely captured her, and she did not mind the capture, she relished it.
Her arms went up around his neck and they were soon locked together like two crazed lovers unable to let go, feared letting go, could not possibly let go.
The kiss heated along with their bodies until suddenly Tarr pushed her away and held her at arm’s length. They stared at each other, their passion still stirring their souls.
He shook his head, turned, and walked away.
Fiona remained where she stood—She had to. Her legs had not stopped trembling—and stared at his retreating back. When he was finally out of sight, her footing more firm, she reached down, grabbed the basket, and walked to the cottage alone.
Tarr sat at a table in the shadows away from the few people lingering in the hall. The servants busily cleaned the tables, preparing to settle the keep for the night. He declined the pitcher of ale offered to him by a servant rushing by.
He wanted to be left alone, swallowed by the shadows so that he could wallow in his frustration.
“Fiona is a handful.” Raynor plopped down on the bench opposite Tarr.
“I prefer solitude,” Tarr all but growled.
“Why? To try and make sense of Fiona?” Raynor laughed. “It will not work.”
“You talk as if you know your sister well, and yet you have not seen her since she was but a tiny babe.”
“Fiona was never tiny. She was larger than the average babe. The women who helped with the birthing gossiped about how the first twin’s size gave my mother a difficult time. And once out, she wailed and demanded and refused to be quiet until she was finally placed at her mother’s side.”
“She remains demanding and infuriatingly stubborn to this day,” Tarr said in one long frustrated breath.
“Then why wed her?”
“Because I foolishly