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Authors: Laurel McKee
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better than the city’s theaters and assembly rooms ever could.
She couldn’t stop herself from touching those scars. When her fingertips caressed the long, crooked lines that snaked over
his jaw, he drew in his breath with a hiss and jerked his head back. But she would not be deterred. She stretched up on her
toes and kissed the scar. It was rough under her lips, and he tasted of soap and salt and wine. She wanted more of him, more
and more.
“Caroline, you were surely sent here to drive me to madness,” Grant groaned.
“Then we are both mad.” Caroline rested her forehead on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. She closed her eyes and
inhaled deeply of his clean, spicy-dark scent, drawing it down into herself. A bittersweet longing swept over her, overwhelming.
She longed for
him
, and also for something deep and desperate she couldn’t quite grasp. Yet she sensed it was something of vital importance.
She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt andkissed the pulse that beat at the base of his throat. She parted her lips and spread a line of kisses along his throat, his
jawline, the spot just below his ear. His skin was hot and smooth, and the slight roughness of his whiskers abraded her lips.
She tore open the lacings of his shirt and at last touched his naked chest. How had she gone without this for so long?
She pressed her mouth to that heartbeat and felt the rhythm of it on her lips. She traced her tongue around his flat, hard
nipple and reveled in the moan of his response. He wanted her, too, she knew that. She wasn’t alone in this madness.
His fingers twined in her hair and pressed her against him. “Caroline,” he said, and his voice sounded rough and desperate,
the fine English accent and cool distance gone. “I tried to fight against this, whatever this is between us…”
“I know,” she whispered. “Oh, I
do
know!”
“I’ve never known a woman like you,” he said. “It’s as if, when I’m with you, I see only you, as if you’ve cast a spell over
me, over this whole island.”
Caroline looped her arms around his neck and stretched on tiptoe until her body was pressed flush to his, hip to hip, breast
to hard chest. “
You
are the sorcerer, I fear.” He was sent to beguile her away from her purpose, to trap her in this heated pleasure until she
could see nothing else. She didn’t
want
to see anything else. If this was to be her downfall, then she welcomed it.
For tonight anyway. Tonight was part of the spell, and tomorrow was very far away.
His hands closed hard on her waist, and he bent his head to capture her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. She openedher mouth to him in eager welcome, and his tongue touched and twined with hers. He tasted of wine, and of that darkness she
craved so much.
His kiss was full of desperation, and it made her desperate, too, made her fall deeper and deeper into the humid, hot abyss
of longing. She needed him; she needed to be closer and closer to him until she could no longer tell where she ended and he
began.
His clasp tightened on her waist and drew her down with him to the floor. He landed hard on the old carpet over the flagstones
and dragged her over his lap until she straddled him. Her hands braced on his shoulders as they slid back into the hard rhythm
of their kiss.
She felt his open palm slide roughly over her hip until he grasped the hem of her dress. Slowly, enticingly, he pulled her
skirt up until her right leg was bare. The heat of the fire and the cold draft washed over her naked thigh at the top of her
stocking, and she shivered.
Their kiss deepened, wet and hot and full of raw need, and his elegant, skillful fingers slid under her garter to caress her
bare skin. His touch was rough—he had obviously been laboring at more than reading on Muirin Inish. It felt wonderful, and
the fire of need flamed even hotter inside her.
Caroline couldn’t breathe or think. She could
She couldn’t stop herself from touching those scars. When her fingertips caressed the long, crooked lines that snaked over
his jaw, he drew in his breath with a hiss and jerked his head back. But she would not be deterred. She stretched up on her
toes and kissed the scar. It was rough under her lips, and he tasted of soap and salt and wine. She wanted more of him, more
and more.
“Caroline, you were surely sent here to drive me to madness,” Grant groaned.
“Then we are both mad.” Caroline rested her forehead on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. She closed her eyes and
inhaled deeply of his clean, spicy-dark scent, drawing it down into herself. A bittersweet longing swept over her, overwhelming.
She longed for
him
, and also for something deep and desperate she couldn’t quite grasp. Yet she sensed it was something of vital importance.
She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt andkissed the pulse that beat at the base of his throat. She parted her lips and spread a line of kisses along his throat, his
jawline, the spot just below his ear. His skin was hot and smooth, and the slight roughness of his whiskers abraded her lips.
She tore open the lacings of his shirt and at last touched his naked chest. How had she gone without this for so long?
She pressed her mouth to that heartbeat and felt the rhythm of it on her lips. She traced her tongue around his flat, hard
nipple and reveled in the moan of his response. He wanted her, too, she knew that. She wasn’t alone in this madness.
His fingers twined in her hair and pressed her against him. “Caroline,” he said, and his voice sounded rough and desperate,
the fine English accent and cool distance gone. “I tried to fight against this, whatever this is between us…”
“I know,” she whispered. “Oh, I
do
know!”
“I’ve never known a woman like you,” he said. “It’s as if, when I’m with you, I see only you, as if you’ve cast a spell over
me, over this whole island.”
Caroline looped her arms around his neck and stretched on tiptoe until her body was pressed flush to his, hip to hip, breast
to hard chest. “
You
are the sorcerer, I fear.” He was sent to beguile her away from her purpose, to trap her in this heated pleasure until she
could see nothing else. She didn’t
want
to see anything else. If this was to be her downfall, then she welcomed it.
For tonight anyway. Tonight was part of the spell, and tomorrow was very far away.
His hands closed hard on her waist, and he bent his head to capture her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. She openedher mouth to him in eager welcome, and his tongue touched and twined with hers. He tasted of wine, and of that darkness she
craved so much.
His kiss was full of desperation, and it made her desperate, too, made her fall deeper and deeper into the humid, hot abyss
of longing. She needed him; she needed to be closer and closer to him until she could no longer tell where she ended and he
began.
His clasp tightened on her waist and drew her down with him to the floor. He landed hard on the old carpet over the flagstones
and dragged her over his lap until she straddled him. Her hands braced on his shoulders as they slid back into the hard rhythm
of their kiss.
She felt his open palm slide roughly over her hip until he grasped the hem of her dress. Slowly, enticingly, he pulled her
skirt up until her right leg was bare. The heat of the fire and the cold draft washed over her naked thigh at the top of her
stocking, and she shivered.
Their kiss deepened, wet and hot and full of raw need, and his elegant, skillful fingers slid under her garter to caress her
bare skin. His touch was rough—he had obviously been laboring at more than reading on Muirin Inish. It felt wonderful, and
the fire of need flamed even hotter inside her.
Caroline couldn’t breathe or think. She could
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