Page 36 of The Splendor of Fire
Radiant blush spilled over her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and he was powerfully overcome with the need to revisit their first kiss in sober mind—to press the feeling into his soul. Something flickered in her expression, and she mouthed the wordgold.
Moira eased the gold chain over her head, holding it out to him. His hands wrapped around hers and he lifted it back over her head, liking the way his chain of honor adorned her slender neck.
Her mouth formed a word.Yours.
“For you. Keep it.”
Moira’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, taking the quill back from him.I have nothing to give you in exchange.
Pretending they were in Calais, among the arbors of his home, he took her cheek in his palm, losing himself in the deep oceans of her eyes. “Wear it for me, as the one I’ve chosen.Donne-moi ton cœur.”
The ripe peach of her lips formed slow words.What does that mean?
He dropped his mouth near her ear and whispered his request. “Give me your heart.”
Moira’s eyes flew to his own, before writing with a slow hand.You have my heart. ’Tis always been more yours than mine.
A chill of gooseflesh frosted across her neck and she turned her face toward his.
Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward, his lips beginning to explore the features of the countenance he had dreamed of for months. He kissed her forehead, the freckle that lay beside her eye, the tip of her nose. His hands brushed over her soft, wild curls. Breath panted from her silken lips and he touched one with his thumb.
The seas in her eyes swept over his own and he felt himself come back to life. Locking eyes with her, he hovered his mouth above hers, testing to see if she approved. Slowly, she nodded, and he brought his lips gently to hers, giving her a reverent kiss. He backed away.
Her eyes held him steady, filling with affection. She nodded again. Heart pounding, he closed his eyes and again touched his lips to hers, drinking her in like life itself. Her hands came to his whiskered face, and with the warmth of her breath and the softness of her mouth, she deepened the kiss.
Flying.He was flying. It had been so long since he’d felt a woman’s love, so long since he’d given his own heart, so long since he’d shared kisses like this. Except this was something else. Something stronger. Something better.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and he rose, pulling her to her feet and tightening his arms around her with the remnants of his strength. The weight of her in his arms filled his barren heart and made him feel like a man again. Finding himself, he dropped kisses along her jaw and found the place beneath her ear, and she leaned into his mouth—lavender flooding his senses. His rough hands spanned her small waist, holding onto her for dear life.
Unable to stop himself, he whispered against her ear his confession of love. “Mon cœur t’appartient. Je t’aime plus que la vie…”
The endearment caused her to startle. Her palms came to his hollow chest and pushed away. She slid one finger down another and mouthed a word.Can’t.
The word broke through his conscience. He stepped backward, honor returning, and was swarmed with heavy guilt for crossing a line he shouldn’t cross. He was a prisoner. He’d just claimed her as his own and then kissed her in the way he would a wife. He had no right. “I’m sorry. Moira, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have?—”
Hurt rushed into her eyes.
Before he could explain, the door below crashed open. “Léo! Niall!”
Mowbray ran up the stairs. “Niall is here. He wants to see you.”
Two guards rushed through the door and took him by each arm, spiriting him down the stairs and across the parapet. Down two flights of stairs he went, mind boggling from bliss to sheer terror as they bundled him back into his former cell.
Léo landed in the sour rushes, the walls closing in on him, panic rising in his chest as the door drew shut.
Niall’s voice became audible seconds later. “Moira Allen. Just as I thought.”
Léo rushed to the door and tried to hear through the shut slat.
Father Allen’s voice rose. “She’s helping me do the cooking today, Laird MacKinnon.”
“Open the door, Mowbray.”
The lock clanked and the door opened, and Léo found himself face to face with the man who had taken everything from him.
Niall looked at him with deep approval. “Eight months of confinement and you’re a shadow of the man you were.”
It was true, and the evidence of his starvation and torment brought Niall joy. Léo’s voice broke. “Brother.”
