Page 87 of The Queen's Huntsman
“Esme calls herself Fae,” Gwendolyn argued. “Do you dislike the word so much?”
“No more than I do Elf orSidhe, but these are your people’s words, Gwendolyn. In my tongue, we are merely Danann. Though I do not care one way or the other, there is one person I know who concerns himself with the distinction, and you may do well to remember that.”
“Who?”
“My father,” he said darkly, and then fell silent.
Unfortunately, even once he held her aloft, Gwendolyn could still not reach the conduit, so she was forced to remain in his arms until the tide rose higher.
However, she could find no complaint in her current situation. The feel of Málik was delectable. Without realizing it, her nostrils flared and sought the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent… saltwater, sun, woods, male.
“I do care for you,” he said, blowing out a sigh, the confession coming so reluctantly that Gwendolyn found herself slightly piqued.
“Do tell.”
And yet, it shouldn’t matter. She couldn’t speak those three little words any more than he seemed able to. Nor would she so easily bare her heart—not when he already had all the proof he needed to glean how she felt, and as yet he’d not bothered to acknowledge this, nor to tell her more thanI do care for you.
What did that mean, anyway?
What was she supposed to say?
Gwendolyn cared deeply for Bryn, but she did not love him, not the way she loved Málik. But for all she knew, this was all Málik felt for her—except she now knew better and she knew because of the gold he’d snipped from her hair. He did love her, even if he didn’t want to confess as much.
“I’d never forgive myself if harm should come to you…” he said. “Let me lead.”
Beneath the circle of his Faerie flame, Málik’s sun-kissed face was lit with a bluish hue, his pale hair andicebourneeyes reflecting the flame.
Between them, the water grew warmer… and warmer still.
Gwendolyn shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. His heat was infectious, wending itself over her flesh and into her deepest self, teasing her cool skin.
“I will not bend to your will,” she swore. “Never again will I do so because a man presumes I should.”
“I do not expect you to,” he said, his hands playing across the small of her back. “You are a queen, Gwendolyn. I am your servant to command, no matter how annoying you might be.”
“Iam annoying?”
Was he being serious?
Truly?
She was annoying?
“What about you?Youare the one who fell silent, then marched away the instant proof of our destiny lay shining in my lap. Do you know how this made me feel, Málik?”
“I do,” he said, lowering her, so her breasts nuzzled the warmth of his sinewy chest. His hands reached into her hair, his long fingers caressing her pate as his mouth came deliciously close to her own—so achingly close that she could scent the grass blades he so often chewed.
Gods. Oh, Gods.This was where she had so long desired to be—right here, in Málik’s arms—but the timing was terrible. “I am sorry, Gwendolyn,” he said. “For all the pain I have brought upon you. But you cannot possibly understand how wrong we are together. It cannot be.”
By the eyes of Lugh!Gwendolyn’s breasts pebbled against his solid warmth, and an ache coiled between her thighs. Never in her life had she been with a man. Only twice had she been kissed—once by Málik, the second time by Bryn, though she’d imagined that, too, as Málik, or she’d never have responded so wantonly. Even now, knowing she should not… knowing they were short of time, her hands found his neck, and she clung to him, still shivering, resting against his form, allowing him to support her. In some ridiculous part of her woman’s brain, she considered that if death was inevitable, if all was truly lost, then this was the place she longed to take her final breath—right here, in his arms.
But those should not be the thoughts of a queen. She was more than a woman, and neither was Málik a man, simple or otherwise. Life was too complicated, and Gwendolyn could not allow herself to be distracted by his lips…
Bloody damn.She had wanted this too long.
“No, Gwendolyn,” he whispered, as, of their own accord, her limbs found and wrapped themselves around his waist. She moaned softly as his lips descended upon hers—until suddenly, one of the Faerie flames shot down between their faces, blinding Gwendolyn unexpectedly.
“Blood and bloody bones!” she exclaimed.
