In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,102

the fire-bleached tunic.

He had managed, since leaving Rennes, to keep his thoughts pure and his mind clear of any lingering images. There were moments, however, like this one. Moments that came out of nowhere and struck without warning. Moments when it would have been far safer for both of them if her hair had remained braided and her body armoured in filthy squire’s rags. Moments when she should have known when to look away and when it was safe to fill those sea-green eyes with challenges.

“Your brother would not be pleased to come in and find you here alone with me,” he said quietly. “My brother is not my keeper.” “He is concerned for your welfare.” “Are you so dangerous a man, my lord?” “Some might think so.”

A warm, swimming sensation that had nothing to do with the fire or the mead coursed through her, catching at her breath, making the timbre of his voice seem to resonate to the tips of her toes. Power, and the ability to draw upon it at a moment’s notice, was apparent in every line of his body— more so as he straightened to his full height and stood towering over her in all his savage splendor, the amber glow of the fire beside him, a black void of shadow behind him.

“Should I think of you as a dangerous man?”

“That would depend, my lady.”

“On what?”

“On your definition of danger. For instance, I have had several cups of ale and am in no mood for exchanging gauntlets, yet you stand before me with the devil in your eye and, if I am not mistaken, a question scorching your tongue that will not give you any peace until it is asked and answered. If you ask it and you do not like my answer, then yes, it could be very dangerous … for both of us.”

“How do you know I have a specific question in mind?”

“Oh … a wild guess, I suppose. That and the fact you have been acting most decidedly saddle galled since we left Rennes.”

Ariel could not stop the flush from rising in her cheeks. She supposed she should have known Robin would share confidences with him, this despite the solemn promise he had exacted from her not to betray his revelation about FitzRandwulf’s dam.

Ariel set her goblet on the table, hard enough to splash some of the contents over the rim. She turned on her heels, fully intending to make it another two days before she deigned to speak to him again, but instead, she stood in a glowing cloud of camlet and curled her hands into tense little fists.

“Why did you kiss me at the inn in Rennes?”

It was the question he had been expecting and he answered it so politely and with such smugness she wished she had the means to scar the other half of his face. “I was merely complying with a request, my lady.”

“A request? From who?”

“There were only the two of us in the room at the time,” he said evenly.

Ariel whirled around and gaped. “Are you suggesting … implying … I wanted you to kiss me?”

Eduard furled a brow. “I may behave like a rogue and a black-hearted bastard at times, but I am not in the habit of forcing myself on helpless women. On the other hand, if the request is thrust upon me, chivalry dictates I can hardly refuse.”

“Even if the woman making the request is not in her proper senses?”

Eduard shrugged and seemed to move closer though she could swear his feet had not. “I am hardly a qualified physic to know when a woman is in her proper senses or not—especially a woman who has made such a request before.”

Ariel suffered through another ruddy wave of heat. He was standing too close. His formidable upper torso was like a wall of muscle before her, making her feel small and insignificant, and distinctly at a disadvantage.

“Do you know Henry saw us?” she asked.

“He and I have already exchanged a word on the subject.”

“He exchanged more than that with me. He seems to be under the impression I may be developing certain … ill-advised urges … toward you.”

“I trust you corrected his impression.”

“I assured him—as I assure you now—he was mistaken. I have no urges. Not toward you … or any other man, for that matter.”

Eduard’s gaze took another long, slow slide downward, making her uncomfortably aware that he was aware of the sudden new shape her nipples had taken beneath the camlet.

“Are

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