The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(36)

He teased her with his lips and tongue until she forgot about the weight of his hand covering her. Then he cupped her, gently, circling his thumb around the tip, until she moaned and arched into his hand.

All he could think about was dragging his mouth down her neck, ripping open the neck of her leine—rolling that tight little bead with his tongue and sucking her deep into his mouth.

His body was on fire, his heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. He knew he was on the edge of doing something reckless but was unable to stop it. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her shatter around him. It was all he could think about.

All of a sudden the door crashed open.

Ellie sprang off his lap as if scalded. Erik felt as if he’d just had a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, and he stood up nearly as quickly as she did.

What the hell?

He didn’t know whether he was referring to the kiss or the interruption. He was dazed. Dazed!

He automatically reached for the hilt of the dirk at his waist, but released it when he realized it was Domnall and Duncan, carrying a limp Randolph between them.

Even as he fought to cool the blood still pounding through his veins, his mind cleared. “What happened?”

Domnall gave him a curious look—obviously having caught some of what was going on. Ellie wasn’t Erik’s type and they both knew it. Skinny, plain little wrens weren’t his typical bedmates.

“He collapsed. Feels like he’s burning up with fever.”

Ellie made a sound of distress. “Put him over here.” She ushered the men to the bed built into the wall, snapping back into the efficient nursemaid with appalling speed—as if she hadn’t just been melting in his arms.

Erik swore and dragged his hands through his hair, not sure whether he was angry at Randolph or himself. Someone had been rattled by that kiss, but it sure as hell didn’t seem to be her.

Chapter Eight

“Ellie!”

She winced, the loud boom of Hawk’s voice shattering the peace of the sunny winter’s day and nearly causing her to drop the stack of freshly washed linens that she had piled in her arms.

Lord, what have I done now?

In the roughly forty-eight hours since she’d lost her mind and allowed him to kiss her, it seemed that when he wasn’t ignoring her, he was snapping at her for something she’d done wrong.

He was the one who’d told her to be useful, but he objected to everything she did. If she offered to help Meg bring food to the men, he said she was getting in the way (the cave was a pigsty, and she’d only suggested that his men pick up after themselves). If she attempted to help some of the village women with their sewing, he accused her of trying to gain their sympathies to escape (it was his story, she pointed out; he could hardly fault her for improving upon it). He’d even forbidden her from tending to Thomas while he was in a delirium for fear that she would hear something she shouldn’t (who knew thieves had so many important secrets?). Thankfully, Thomas’s fever had broken yesterday, and though weak, it seemed the young pirate would recover.

“Ellie!” he shouted again, bringing her shoulders to her ears once more.

Preparing herself for another unpleasant encounter, she straightened her spine and turned around slowly, just in time to see him storming across the grass from the edge of the cliffside. One look at his dark expression and she thought about making a run for the door a few dozen feet away.

Perhaps he wouldn’t yell so loud with Meg and Thomas in the same room? But as Duncan’s presence on the other side of the garden didn’t seem to be bothering him any, she doubted it.

It seemed the pirate captain’s prodigious good humor extended to everyone but her. Even Thomas had noticed it, remarking that he’d never seen Hawk so short-tempered with a lass. Ellie would have been perversely pleased if it didn’t mean being forced to bear the brunt of that temper.

Faith, he was an imposing sight! His mouth was clenched in a tight line and his eyes were two sharp beams of brilliant blue. His fair Norse coloring could turn icy and emotionless in a mercurial heartbeat. Though she was no longer scared that he would hurt her, having an angry, towering pirate bellowing at her wasn’t an altogether unintimidating experience.

She set the freshly laundered linens down on a rock and stood to face him, blinking into the sunlight as the glare from his weapons and the bits of steel riveted into his black leather cotun glared in her eyes. But he was dazzling even without the armor, as she was sure he well knew.

He stood no more than a foot away, and her body betrayed her, flushing with awareness. Did he have to smell so good? And be built like a battering ram? How was she supposed to think when all she could smell was warm skin, tinged with the faint scent of spice from his soap, and all she could think about was how strong his arms felt wrapped around her and how hard his chest had been against her br**sts?

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” he demanded angrily.

Her gaze locked on his. At least this time he did not turn away. The pang in her chest had diminished but had not completely gone away. She told herself that his prickly behavior and avoidance after kissing her didn’t hurt.

“I think the entire island heard you calling me,” she replied blithely.

His blue eyes glinted with all the warmth of the cold steel, two-handed great sword strapped to his back—nothing like the hot, bone-melting look in his eyes when he’d kissed her.