Beguiled (The Fairest Maidens #2) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,30
a boulder above the river was secluded and private, except for Gregor, who had perched behind a boulder a dozen paces away. But like Mikkel, I’d grown accustomed to the servant’s constant presence and hardly noticed him hovering anymore.
“No one will be the wiser if you slip away now.” I gave him one last chance to leave.
“Pearl.” His voice was so gentle it silenced me.
Embarrassed, I wanted to look away, but his kind eyes still held mine.
“I am not leaving. Put it from your mind.”
“’Tis my fault you are here and bound to me. If I had refrained from capturing you that day . . .”
“Then one of Irontooth’s other pawns would have captured me instead.”
“Pawns? Are you saying I am one of Irontooth’s pawns?”
He returned his sharp gaze to the scenery. “You know that you are. He’s your puppet master.”
I nearly laughed at his analogy but caught myself. Instead, I shoved his arm. As he was balanced on the balls of his feet, the move threw him off-kilter. He grabbed at me to steady himself. In the process, however, he tipped sideways, landed on his back, and somehow pulled me down on top of him.
Letting my weapons fall idle, I sprawled across him, feeling the solidness of his chest keenly against mine along with the rise and fall of his breathing. “Take it back,” I said, trying to salvage my dignity.
“Take what back?” His eyes took on a sparkle.
“That Irontooth is my puppet master.”
“He is.”
“No, he is not. Now retract your words, or I shall make you pay for them.”
“How will you make me pay, my lady?” His lips quirked with the beginning of a smile.
The air around me felt suddenly lighter, headier. And for the first time in a long time—perhaps since my father died—something akin to happiness stole into the dark and lonely corridors of my heart.
“I shall think of something terrible.”
“How terrible?”
I searched my mind for a retort but could find nothing fitting. “Terribly terrible.”
One of his brows curved, and his smile broke free. The sight of it took my breath away. His smiles were rare, but they always transformed his face, taking away the cold sternness and replacing it with warm acceptance. It was the kind of expression that told me a future with this man would be graced with more smiles, laughter, and tenderness.
“I shall look forward to such terribly terrible consequences.” His voice was light and teasing.
A lock of his fair hair had fallen across his forehead, and I reached up and smoothed it back, taking my time to tuck it into place.
As my fingers lingered in his hair, his breathing stilled and his smile faded.
Was he repulsed by my touch? I let my fingers fall away, self-conscious at my forwardness. But before I could get far, he snatched my hand and brought it to his lips. A soft, feathery warmth brushed my knuckles, and I sucked in a breath at the contact.
I didn’t dare move for fear the moment might end before I was ready for it to.
Beneath me, his body remained motionless, and his eyes darkened to the color of the sky at twilight.
My heart began a strange thrumming of anticipation.
Ever so gently, he turned my hand over and pressed it against his lips, this time kissing the tender spot at the center of my palm.
His gaze held mine, unrelenting but tender, rendering me helpless and filling me with feelings for him I couldn’t explain.
He lifted my hand away and curled my fingers closed, as if to keep his kiss there. At that instant, shouts from across the gorge jolted us. We scrambled to our knees and peered out, the intimacy dissipating under the harsh reality of where we were and the life we were leading.
At another shout, this one from the northern trail that wound up the island back to our camp, I spotted Tommy’s bearlike frame. He limped forward, blood running down his face and disappearing into the thick hairy growth on his chin and neck. His eyes were wild and desperate, and he shouted again, this time more audibly. “The camp’s been attacked!”
All around the gorge, our people tentatively stepped out of their hiding places, their faces confused. Irontooth emerged from his secluded spot closest to the river, Fowler bound and gagged beside him, along with several other of our fiercest warriors.
Mikkel’s fingers tightened against both his weapons, as if he expected Blade’s men to swoop out of the woods now that we’d revealed our positions.