The moonlight didn’t reach his eyes; they searched her face, but she couldn’t read them, any more than she could tell what he was thinking from the chiseled perfection of his features, yet they still held that certain tension, a need, perhaps, or a hunger; as the silence stretched she sensed it more clearly—honest, sincere, direct.
Real.
A lock of sable hair had fallen across his brow; entirely without thinking, she reached out and smoothed it back. Fingertips seduced by the rich softness, by the sensual tingle, she hesitated, then started to withdraw her hand.
He caught it, trapped it in one of his.
Eyes widening, she met his gaze. Fell into it.
He held her ensorcelled for a long moment, then, uncurling her fingers with his, he turned his head and, slowly, deliberately, pressed his lips to her palm.
The shocking heat leapt like a spark into her; the blatantly intimate touch made her shiver.
He shifted his head; his lips drifted to her wrist, there to bestow an equally intimate lover’s caress.
“I’m sorry.” The words reached her on a dark whisper as his lips left her skin. His fingers shifted over hers, locking her hand in his. “I didn’t intend it to be like this, but…I can’t wait for you any longer.”
Before her brain could take in his meaning, let alone react, he surged to his feet—angling his shoulder into her waist, using his hold on her hand to pull her forward—in one smooth move hoisting her up over his shoulder.
“What…?” Disoriented, she stared down his back.
He turned to the door.
She grabbed the back of his coat. “For God’s sake, Royce—put me down!” She would have kicked, tried to lever herself off his hard shoulder, but he’d clamped a steely arm over the backs of her knees, locking her in position.
“I will. Just be quiet for a few minutes.”
A few minutes? He’d already walked out into the corridor.
Clutching the back of his coat with both hands, she looked around, then braced as he started climbing; through the dimness she recognized the hall before the west turret stairs—watched it recede.
A scarifying thought formed. “Where are you taking me?”
“You already know. Do you want me to state it?”
“Yes!”
“To my bed.”
“No!”
Silence. No response, no reply, no acknowledgment of any sort.
He reached the gallery and turned toward his rooms. Any doubt that he meant to do as he’d said evaporated. Realization of how helpless she was grew; she couldn’t prevent what would follow because she simply wouldn’t, not once he’d hauled her into his arms and kissed her.
Just the thought of his hands—his clever, wicked hands—on her skin again made her shiver with damning anticipation.
Desperate, she braced her hands on his back, struggled to push up enough to drag air into her lungs. “Royce, stop!” She poured every ounce of command she could muster into her tone. Whe
n he didn’t so much as pause, she quickly continued, “If you don’t set me down this instant, I’ll scream.”
“A piece of advice from one who knows—never threaten what you’re not prepared to deliver.”
Incensed, she drew in a massive breath, held it…waited.
His strides didn’t falter.
But then he halted.