Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)(69)

“No, I do not still have the dog,” she snapped, throwing the weight of all her fury into a perfect blend of truth and misdirection, and she knew instinctively that she had hit the exact right note. “It disappeared at the time of the pub attack, and I haven’t seen it since.” Looking him up and down, she added contemptuously, “But if I did see that dog again, you can be sure as fuck I wouldn’t tell you anything about it.”

“No, I can see that you would not,” Morgan said, holding his body still, his expression calm and stony. “At any rate, not by choice.” He offered her the bunch of flowers. “I wish you well, Sophie Ross. Enjoy your day. Pray there’s no need for us to meet again.”

Breathing hard, she accepted the flowers gingerly, as if they might bite. In an archaic-seeming courtesy, Morgan inclined his head to her, then strode away.

She stood staring until he disappeared around a corner. Only then was she able to get her feet unglued from the pavement. She made it back to the car, tucked her purchases in the back, then sat in the driver’s seat and shook. When she felt she was capable of driving safely, she started the Mini and pulled carefully onto the road.

Her mind was leaping around like a scalded cat. Maybe she shouldn’t drive back to the property. But everybody in town knew she was staying there. Maybe it would look worse if she didn’t go back.

Maybe Hounds had already been to the property to search the cottage. Maybe Nikolas and Gawain had already been attacked. By the time she parked at the cottage, she was in a clench of worry. Already familiar, the scene looked peaceful, untouched by violence, but as she knew from bitter experience, looks could be lethally deceiving.

As she turned off the engine, the cottage door opened and Nikolas strode out. “What took you so long?” he demanded. “I almost came looking for you.”

She was so relieved and happy to see him whole and unharmed she forgot that normally she would be irritated with his brusque tone. She whispered, “Nik.”

He took in her expression, and his manner changed. “What is it?” He took hold of her hands, and alarm flashed through his sharp gaze. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

She walked forward until she bumped into his body, then she put her arms around his waist. As his arms closed around her, she told him, “I met Morgan in town. He was looking for Robin.”





Chapter Fourteen





At her words, Nikolas’s arms turned into iron bands. Bowing his head over her, he crushed her body against him.

I met Morgan in town.

The words were worse than his worst fears, and at the thought of her facing Morgan alone, a sense of wrongness, like nausea, clenched his stomach.

She coughed. “Too tight. Ease up.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go into town by yourself,” he growled. “I did it anyway, and I knew better.”

Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. She said, sounding tired, “You don’t let me do anything. ‘Let’ and ‘permit’ are not words we modern folk allow in our vocabulary. Do we understand this concept yet?”

“Sophie, for God’s sake,” he snapped while he stroked her hair. He couldn’t seem to help himself. His hands wanted to roam all over her body so that he could finally insert into his overheated brain that she had returned unmaimed.

At that, she seemed to get how genuinely upset he was. Lifting her head, she searched his face. “I’m okay. For the moment, everything is okay.”

He took in her appearance for the first time, and his eyes narrowed. Her dark curls were glossy and defined, and they fell down her back in an extravagantly feminine mane. And she had done something to her eyes and mouth, making them dramatic and sensual. The smoky accents she had applied to her eyes had turned them even more electric than usual.

“You went into town looking like that?” he asked. He couldn’t help himself and touched a forefinger to her red, ripe mouth. A soft smear of color stained his fingertip, and he licked at it. It tasted of her. His cock went from zero to sixty in a single second, rock hard and straining against the seam of his jeans.

She gave him a leery glance. “Like… what, exactly?”

The truth tore out of his gut, raw and husky. “Like something I couldn’t wait to eat up.”

Her pupils dilated in quick, involuntary reaction. She recoiled, pulling out of his arms. “Too late,” she said harshly. “You had your chance and decided to cut it short.”

As she turned back to the Mini, he gritted, “Sophie, I still want you.”

“No.” She stuck her head into the back and pulled out packages. When she emerged again, her cheeks were flushed with pink color and her eyes snapped with some unnamed emotion. She met his gaze, the line of her jaw tight. “You walked away last night, and you got to do that. That was your choice, so okay. I can go with it. But you don’t get to push me away, only to try to pull me back in again. I don’t play that kind of game.”

He snapped, “I don’t play any games.”

Instead of responding in the lively way he had come to expect, she merely looked bruised. “Oh, no? Well, I don’t know what you’re doing then.”

“I don’t either,” he whispered.

That made her pause. She searched his expression uncertainly, but when he would have reached out for her again, to touch her in any way he could, the cottage door opened and Gawain strode out.