A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(51)

Enough? What foolishness. She’d never known such an exquisite blend of sensual relief and desperate hunger for more. He claimed her lips in a kiss, and their moans mingled as he cupped her sex in his clever, wicked hand. His tongue and his finger thrust in unison, moving deeper by gentle yet steady degrees. She gripped his shoulders, rocked by wave after wave of devious pleasure.

Yes. Oh, yes. She wanted this. Him inside her. The two of them, joined in every way. And it would never be enough. She would always crave more.

More.

His hand stilled.

Kate panted for breath. Was something wrong?

Apparently so. He withdrew his touch completely, letting her skirts fall loose to the ground, and Kate’s muddled senses finally gathered why.

It was Badger again. More barking. More dashing about. More ruining everything.

Drat, drat, drat.

With a muttered curse, Thorne turned to follow the dog with his eyes. “He’s got his sights on something.”

“Only a rat, surely.”

“Perhaps.”

The dog disappeared around a corner of the castle ruins, growling and snarling as he went.

“But perhaps not.” Thorne released her with a sigh of obvious regret. “It’s not like him to behave that way.”

That was it, then. The moment was gone.

Thorne strode off in pursuit. Resigned to it, Kate picked up her skirts and followed after both dog and man.

They rounded the corner of a crumbling sandstone wall.

Badger had his quarry cornered in a shadowy niche. The puppy stood at attention, growling at whatever it was he’d captured.

“I don’t see any rat,” Kate said, drawing nearer. “Perhaps it’s only a tiny vole?” She moved closer to investigate.

Thorne caught her by the arm, holding her back. “Don’t.”

Kate froze. When uttered in that tone, it wasn’t a command she could refuse.

Then she saw the reason for his sudden change in demeanor. It wasn’t a rat or a vole Badger had cornered, but a snake. A long, thick adder curling in on itself and weaving figure eights in the matted grass—less than a yard from her slippers. A thin tendril of tongue flickered out, and the snake’s hiss crawled down her spine.

The puppy—brave, foolish thing—stood his ground at her feet, still snarling and preparing to pounce.

She could see very easily what would happen. The snake was backed into a corner, and the creature no doubt knew—in whatever way snakes knew these things—its only chance of escape was to strike.

“Oh. He’ll be bitten.” Kate struggled against Thorne’s grip. “Badger, no. Come away from that horrid thing.”

She attempted to reach for him, but Thorne held her back.

“Shush,” he said firmly. “I’ll see to him. Just don’t move.”

He released her arm. Kate clenched her fists at her sides to keep still. Her fingernails bit into her palms.

Thorne planted his boots in the grassy turf. Then, moving with excruciating slowness, he stretched his right arm as he leaned forward, spreading his fingers wide. As he leaned, the full length of his hard thigh pressed against the back of her leg. She could feel the leashed power in his every small motion.

Just a little farther. A few inches more and he’d be able to snatch the puppy by the scruff, deliver him up and away.

Oh, hurry, she pleaded inwardly, even though she knew sudden movements would be disaster.

Thorne ceased moving altogether. His outstretched right arm went ramrod straight, and she could feel the energy tensing in his muscles. It made the hairs on her arm lift. Like quiet thunder rumbling through a cloud.

Then came the lightning strike.

With a powerful lunge forward, he reached out—

And grabbed the snake.

Five seconds and it was over. Once Thorne had the adder in hand, he doubled the length and snapped its spine. The writhing coil of green-sheathed muscle fell lifeless to the ground.

Badger kept right on barking.

Kate fell to her knees, scooping up the dog, clutching him to her chest and peppering his fur with kisses.

“Why did you do that?” she asked Thorne. “You might have just reached for Badger and pulled him out of harm’s way.”

Thorne shook his head. “That snake was going to strike when I did,” he said. “If I’d reached for the dog, those fangs would have found your ankle instead.”

Good Lord. He’d never had any intention of reaching for Badger. He just grabbed for the snake with his bare hand, rather than risk it biting her. How exceedingly reckless and stupidly brave.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Leaning against the stone wall, he turned his hand this way and that. “I reckoned I could weather it.”

Kate’s heart stalled. “What do you mean? Were you bitten?”

When he didn’t answer, she released Badger and scrambled to her feet.

“Let me look.” She reached for his wrist, and he did not fight her as she raised his big, roughened hand to the light for examination. “Oh, no.”

There they were. Two neat, round punctures just where the heel of his hand met his wrist. The area around the bite was already puffing with blood.

“We must go to your quarters. Do you have a medical kit? This needs to be treated, and quickly.”

“It’s only an adder bite.”