Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,43

I don’t know what to do, or what to say … and now I’m babbling. I really think I should pour myself some wine or something, otherwise I’ll never relax.”

“You don’t need wine,” he assured her, a lazy smile curving his lips as he stroked her cheek once more. “You just need to trust me.”

Another nervous laugh escaped her. Trust him? A few days ago, she’d have snarled at him for saying such a thing. But everything was different now. “Very well … but I apologize in advance if this whole thing is … awkward.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” he replied, his mouth lifting at the corners once more. His gaze was bright as he stared down at her. Outdoors, the boom and rumble of battle continued, but all of a sudden, Gavina’s world had shrunk.

Draco Vulcan filled her senses, and the feel of his skin against hers, the tenderness of his caress, made it difficult to focus. She felt as if she were in the presence of a warlock, and he’d somehow woven a spell about her.

The man was cold and callous, and yet he was suddenly difficult to resist.

Silence stretched out between them, and Gavina was readying herself to reply to him when Draco leaned in, his mouth covering hers for another kiss.

And like the first, it was gentle, beguiling.

His lips moved across hers in light brushes, teasing her own, while his hand slid to her neck. Gently, he pulled her toward him.

Gavina went meekly. She had no choice really; this had to be done, and she’d only make a fool of herself if she resisted him.

The kiss was tender, and it made something that had been tightly coiled within her slowly unfurl.

The tension that had pulsed off her since the evening before—when she’d made the decision to go ahead with this folly—sloughed away. Her eyelids fluttered closed and, like in the chapel’s doorway, she leaned into him.

Draco’s lips moved across hers, a little firmer now. One hand rested on her cheek, while the other stroked her neck.

Heat flickered in the cradle of Gavina’s belly. The gentleness, the reverence, of his touch surprised her. Honestly, she’d expected him to be rough. She sighed then. The tip of Draco’s tongue swept along the seam of her lips, teasing her further. The heat expanded, and Gavina’s pulse quickened.

She liked this.

And then, Draco swept her lips open with his tongue and kissed her deeply.

Gavina gasped at the intrusion, her body going rigid for an instant before she melted against him.

God’s teeth, this man can kiss.

And he tasted good, both sweet and spicy. She found herself wanting more of it.

He drew her close to him then, stepping up so that their bodies lay flush for the first time. And then, as he continued to kiss her, his tongue entwining with hers, he reached up and unpinned her hair.

Aila hadn’t braided it that morning. Instead, she’d coiled her mistress’s pale mane up and pinned it high on her crown, with strands falling softly about her face. As such, it came free easily, cascading gently over her shoulders.

And to her surprise, Draco gave a soft groan in the back of his throat. He tossed the hair pins aside. They thudded to the rug at their feet, ignored. He then ran his hands through her hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers.

He pulled back from the kiss, and when he spoke, his voice had a strained note to it. “Hades … your hair is like spun silk.”

Warmth started to pulse in Gavina’s chest. His words, his voice, did something to her—something she didn’t understand. She melted as she watched his face and the surprised look upon it.

“It’s annoying sometimes,” she breathed. “So fine that it tangles when there’s the slightest breeze. That’s why I wear it braided.”

“You should wear it unbound all the time,” he murmured. The sensual way he touched it was making her breathing quicken, yet he appeared too entranced by her hair to notice. “It’s lovely.”

XVIII

NOT A GOOD MAN

GAVINA’S EYES FLUTTERED shut. Things were getting too intense now. She felt like a field-mouse trapped in a hawk’s sights. His words wrapped around her, drawing her in against her will.

And then, as her eyes remained closed, she felt a tug at the laces of her bodice. He was undressing her.

Mother Mary give me strength. How was she going to get through this without embarrassing herself?

He undressed her in silence. Gavina’s jaw clenched as she felt the garments slip away and heard them