be filled with him. It had been such a foolish mistake to allow her thoughts freedom.
“I do assure ye, Helena Knyvett, I’m nae playing.” He raised one hand and offered it to her with the palm facing up. “Come to me.”
“I will not.” Even if her body was clamoring for her to comply. “It would be wicked.”
His eyes flickered with something that sent a ripple of excitement through her.
“Exactly.”
He captured her in one long stride, his body closing the distance exactly the way she’d suspected he might be able to do. In a mere breath she was surrounded by his heat once again. The scent of his skin filled her senses and triggered a response that threatened to wipe all thoughts from her mind. There was only his touch and her desire for more of it.
“Please, Keir…I am a virgin.”
She hated her weakness. Hated the fact that her body quivered in his embrace. Tears stung the corners of her eyes because the hands she’d placed against his chest didn’t want to push him away. Her fingertips longed to seek out his skin. But her honor demanded she resist, demanded that she not allow him to treat her as though she was a light-skirt. Even if he had found her in the street at night.
“I know, lass. I never doubted that.”
His voice was too tender, too sweet. Tears eased from her eyes because she longed to just melt against him. She was so tired of standing firmly in control, as she was expected to do.
He cursed again in Gaelic. But he didn’t release her. One hand cupped her chin, raising it up so that he could view her shame. She shuddered, biting into her lower lip to contain the tiny moan that wanted to escape.
“Ye didna cry when that bastard hit ye.” His voice was husky and full of some emotion she could not name. But it pierced her heart. Two more tears eased down her cheeks.
“Edmund hits harder.”
His gaze lowered to the side of her face that was still black and blue several days later.
“But ye shed tears for me.” He leaned down and kissed one. She shuddered, that single kiss burning hotter than a coal. A moment later she was free. She felt the chill of the night air, her body lamenting the loss of his hard body against it.
“I do nae understand ye, Helena, but best ye understand that I’ll no’ be allowing ye to come to harm. My men will not allow ye outside. Dinnae make a fuss about it.”
“But…why are you intent on keeping me?”
Keir paused with one hand on the door. Creases appeared on his forehead.
“I’m nay a fool, Helena. Dinnae think I’ll be easy to bend because yer tears gained ye what ye want tonight. I’ll be sharing that bed with ye tomorrow night as any groom would expect.”
He shut the door firmly behind him. Helena stared at it stupidly. Groom? For all that she knew of the definition of the word, it made no sense to her mind.
Edmund had told her she was to wed Ronchford, but the man had tried to abduct her.
And Keir had rescued her, only to imprison her….
It was a tangle of deception that nauseated her, threatening to make her retch when she reduced every man down to one thing—his desire to possess her. Like a pair of silver candlesticks.
The memory of Ronchford’s hands clawing at her breasts made her adjust her thinking. Not like a set of candlesticks. Yet still the same sense of ownership. Always what they wanted. Always a matter of what she was expected to surrender to their whim.
Behind her stays, her nipples beaded, the soft tips becoming more erect until they were hard with longing. There was no banishing the need. It lived deep in her belly, growing hotter when Keir was in the same room with her. She was suddenly repentant of every time she had thought herself superior to women who followed their longings into the arms of lovers. She had been so ignorant. Perhaps it was wicked, but it was also more intense than anything she had ever experienced. Dismissing it was impossible, but more importantly she did not want to part with it.
Oh no. She wanted to unbutton her doublet and let the air brush across her skin. The garment was stifling, her skin was begging for freedom. More than her skin. Her body clamored for release from the bonds of her childhood learning. Maybe it was the darkness, but