Page 83 of Bride of Mist
There was only one rule in hostage negotiations, and that was that no harm should come to the hostage.
He’d just broken that rule. He’d trysted with his captive.
Worse, that captive had turned out to be a virgin. And she happened to be a member of the most fierce warrior clan in Scotland.
They would likely geld him before they hung him from the gallows.
And they might be right to do so.
This was his fault.
Aye, the lass had tempted him, kissed him, seized him bodily and practically demanded he couple with her.
But he could have said nay.
He could have resisted her charms. He could have set her aside. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone to bed with aching ballocks.
What madness had possessed him? Was it the ale? Her beauty? The thrill of danger?
He didn’t know. But he’d done the unforgivable. And now he’d pay the price.
He sighed, vanquished. He supposed there was no use in agonizing over what was already done. The most he could do was look to her comfort.
“Are ye all right?” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair back from her eyes.
Her eyes were closed, but her lips blossomed into a pleased grin. “Oh aye.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt ye.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I didn’t know ye were…”
“I know.”
“’Twon’t always be painful like that.”
“Nay?” She opened her eyes then, and they gleamed with sultry challenge. “And do you intend to prove that?”
Did he? What was done was done. What difference would it make if he swived her once, twice, or a dozen times?
“Maybe,” he said, returning her smile. “Later.”
“That was lovely,” she sighed.
“Aye.”
But the lass had no idea how much better he could make it for her. And if he was going to cast caution to the wind and risk execution, he might as well spend his last night showing her how much more lovely it could be.
“I have a confession,” she murmured, twining a lock of his hair around her finger. “About killing you? I could never have gone through with it.”
“Is that so?” She’d certainly tried enough times.
“Aye. Once I laid eyes on you,” she purred, “I think I knew I could ne’er hurt you.”
He gazed at her kiss-swollen lips, her rosy cheeks, her eyes resembling silvery pools, reflecting back his own tender affection. And he made a foolish confession.
“I could ne’er hurt ye either. Not intentionally.”
