by Rae Monet
As he glanced around, his eyes touched on the red-haired beauty that had been standing next to the McKinney clan chieftain.
She was stunning and full of life. She emitted an energy that Richard sensed immediately. More times than most, he only used his senses in battle, but this time he reached out and let them touch upon this woman. He stiffened at the purity that he felt.
Richard had not had intimate contact with a woman since he'd left the Realm, and his reactions to this striking woman told him his celibacy was finally catching up with him. He shook his head and looked away.
I just need a good tumble, that's all.
His eyes strayed back to her.
Jesu.She was spectacular in the simplicity of her beauty. Her dark red hair blanketed her shoulders and fell to the small of her back. Dimples danced in her cheeks when she smiled.
Her eyes had met his. She'd smiled and inclined her head. He had looked away, not wanting her to see the interest in his eyes. With her eyes alone, she had held Richard under a spell that he didn't like and yet was reluctant to break. He had no business involving himself with this woman or her clan. He wasn't about to open himself to anyone.
He peered back again momentarily. She was still studying him, smiling at him. Her shoulders were back, reminding him of a woman who was both confident and bold. He grunted and leaned back, raising his leg to brace himself against the tree.
God's Blood, she is gorgeous.
Maybe he needed to find himself a woman to screw. There were plenty who had offered.
He grumbled as he shifted his leg, repositioning it against his hardening cock. Getting involved with that one would definitely be a mistake.
Jesu, I will be happy when this week of wedding bliss is over!
Richard closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, trying to tame his wandering mind.
* * * *
Realizing that he was not going to acknowledge her, Megan wove her way toward her lone man through the throng of men and women dancing, playing Scottish games, and celebrating. They were all so involved in the festivities that they paid her scant attention.
The handsome man had slipped down the tree, his arms crossed and his eyes half closed, as if in his boredom he elected to sleep through the merriment. The wolf lay at his feet, alert and on guard.
Megan crouched down low as she approached the man. The wolf lifted his nose, sniffing the air, very much aware of her approach. He raised his head in warning, displayed his teeth, his body beginning to rise off the ground. She was not concerned.
She had dealt with many wild animals and had never had problems taming them with her soft words and manner.
Megan lifted her hand and raised it in front of her. She gave a small signal to the wolf to approach her.
The man's eyes were closed and he hadn't noticed the departure of the wolf, probably so sure of its ability to protect him that he let his guard down when the wolf was near.
The wolf raised his head, then tilted it to the side as if he were trying to read her. She waved her hand, giving him permission to approach.
The wolf rose up on his legs and, head down, he slowly approached her hand. She didn't waver. She cleared her thoughts and attempted to project her positive energy toward the wolf. Bit by bit, he raised his head and closed his lips, sealing his mouth over his ferocious teeth. He daintily touched her hand with his nose. When she didn't move, the wolf came even closer.
Megan showed no reaction. Somehow she knew that he was testing her, to see if he could make her afraid. He didn't. Megan loved all animals, and if she were to get close to this man, she needed to win the heart of his protector.
He nudged her hand with his head as if giving her permission to pet him. She ran her hand over his velvety pelt as he edged closer, allowing her to place her arms around him.
"So we have reached an understanding, my friend?” In response to her question, she received one very large lick directly on her dimpled cheek. She chuckled, patting his back.
"Yes, I think we have,” she acknowledged. Her gaze moved from the wolf to the man. He was still sitting, his back against the tree, his eyes closed. Megan moved closer to him, not too close, though, as she didn't want to frighten him. It was the same method she took when she approached a wounded animal. Crossing her legs, she sank down in front of him about three feet away. His wolf sat down next to her, facing the man.
"Good morning to you."
Sea-green eyes opened and made contact with her darker green ones. He started pushing up with both legs, reaching for his weapon as he pressed himself against the tree.
She saw apprehension in his eyes; then it was replaced by his usual complacency. He didn't say anything, but glared at the wolf next to her as he pulled his hand away from his weapon. The man gave a hand signal.
The wolf barked and then left her side to sink down next to him.
"May I join you?” Megan asked, watching the emotions cross the man's face. Annoyance was the primary sentiment among them.
"I prefer you did not."
She ignored him and held out her hand in introduction. “My name is Megan McKinney. And yours is...?” He paid no attention to her outstretched hand. Instead, he crossed his legs like hers and dropped his hands onto his thighs, showing her he had no intention of shaking her hand.
"Yours is?” She persisted in her question.
"Raven."
His voice penetrated her mind. Ach, she thought, it was as sensual as the man himself. It reminded her of all the comforting memories that warmed her. It touched Megan's heart.
Soooo sexy.
"Raven, hmmm...” Megan dropped her hand. “And your real name?"
He is so spectacular.
Placing a hand to her chin, she stared. She could sit there and look at him all day and listen to the enchanting cadence of his voice.
"Raven,” he said again, obstinate in his answer.
"And your real name, then?"
There was a flare of annoyance in his expression. “You are a persistent one, are you not?"
She looked at him dreamily.
Ohhhh, that voice has me mesmerized.
It had a strangely appealing accent followed by a low, deep timbre. She slanted her head and smiled, giving him the full impact of her dimples.
"And your real name?” she asked again, chuckling at his aggravation.
"If I tell you, will you leave?” He stroked the fur of his wolf. Megan watched his hand in its progression down the wolf's back and was momentarily distracted from his question. His stroke was so gentle ... not the stroke of a warrior's hands. It was as if his hands were made for something other than swordplay.
"Hmm?” She tore her eyes from his hands.
"If I tell you my name, will you leave?” He enunciated each syllable as if she were simple.
"Oh—of course.” She waited expectantly for him to give her the first victory. She watched him sigh while his eyes left hers and focused on his wolf.
"Richard."
"Ah, Richard.” The name rolled off her tongue as she smiled.
"And your wolf?” she asked, holding his look again.
"I thought you said you would leave if I told you my name,” he said, watching her warily.
"Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if completely dismissing her promise. “I lied,” she said happily.
First, he looked surprised, then angry; then, to her disbelief, he actually threw his head back and laughed. She sucked in a breath at the beauty of him. He looked so young when he laughed, as if ten years were taken off his face. He cleared his throat.
"Caine,” he said, slowly stroking the wolf. “His name is Caine. He is my protector and obviously failing in his duty to let you by him."
It was almost a full sentence and Megan sighed at the intonation of it. He was so magnificent. She could so easily love this mysterious, intense man.
"You are so beautiful,” she said softly. His head snapped up and his stunning green eyes meshed with hers. For a
moment neither spoke. She held her breath and cursed the uncontrollable tendency she had to speak bluntly of what was in her heart.
But then Richard spoke. “God's Blood, you are bold, woman.” He was clearly surprised.
"Yes, so I am told. Do you find it engaging?” she asked, playfully raising her eyebrows at him, just barely concealing her relief that he wasn't going to send her away. Or worse yet, just get up and walk away from her.
"I find it bothersome, as I find you.” He picked at a rock on the ground and tossed it from hand to hand. She wasn't hurt by his insult. She knew he was purposely trying to push her away.
"I'd like to show you something. Will you come with me?” Megan shifted herself slightly on the ground.
"Must I?” His question was as lazy as his attitude.
"Well, I might show you a place where you can be alone in peace, as you seem not to enjoy the company of others.” She swung her hand around, pointing to the people surrounding them. She was always amazed at the drunken stupor her people fell into when they celebrated.
To Megan's relief, no one had even noticed them talking. Of course, as the youngest daughter she had much more freedom than any of her siblings. At times they just lost track of her.
They expected her to go wandering into the woods wherever they were. Her father usually sent John to watch over her, but this week John had been distracted by a lovely blonde lass with whom he was clearly smitten. Megan had assisted the situation a little by pointing out the handsome John to the lass. She didn't mind his bewitched state. She enjoyed seeing him happy, so she had reassured him she wouldn't get into any trouble or leave the celebration alone.
Of course, she had lied then, as well.
Megan watched Richard as his eyes widened with expectation.
"Truly, you wouldn't be lying again now, would you?” Richard asked. “And once you show me this place,” he waved his hand to mimic her, “where I might be alone, you will leave me as such, then?” He mimicked her brogue as if he were teasing her.
"Aye,” she reassured him.
He lifted his hand, indicating for her to precede him. “Lead on, then."
Megan scanned the area again to ensure she wasn't noticed. She offered her hand so he could assist her in rising.
Helping her, of course, would be the gentlemanly action to take. However, he ignored her hand.
She finally rose of her own accord. Ah, she was beginning to see what her father spoke of. He didn't like to touch or be touched.
She led him through a stand of sparse trees that began to thicken as they walked. She noticed that he kept pace behind her without much effort, not even breaking a sweat. She plodded along, glancing back occasionally to see if he continued to follow.
* * * *
Richard watched the stunning girl in front of him with wonder. Her well-shaped ass combined with the flare of red hair was giving his equilibrium problems. He hadn't felt desire for a woman in so long that he had almost forgotten the sensation, but he was definitely feeling it with this one small, fiery female.
What possessed me to follow her alone into the woods?
And what is it about her that makes me want to confide my problems? That makes me want to touch her, to offer her my hand and pull her off the ground into my arms?
He shook his head in anger. He wasn't going to do this to himself; he refused to question the course he had set in his life.
No, I will not do this.
He halted for a moment. She stopped with him and slowly beckoned him with her hand and her smile. She was a wood nymph, that was what she was, and she was casting a spell on him with her fiery hair and beguiling smile.
When he had awakened to her lilting Scottish voice, he had been almost scared ... which had surprised and annoyed him. He wasn't seeking to be close to anyone in his self-imposed exile. But her soft-spoken brashness had won him over, and at her quietly spoken confident assessment of herself, he couldn't help but laugh.
It had felt so good, that laugh, that he was addicted to her the minute she provoked that emotion in him. He hadn't been happy in so long, and hadn't smiled or sought activities that might make him happy in even longer. It was as if he continued to punish himself for his inability to save those last few Wolf Warriors in that battle a year ago. As if he could somehow honor their death in his own continued misery.
As a healer, his profession was the most revered in the Realm. But with his current feelings of failure, he wasn't interested in being honored. He was more engrossed in suffering alone in his own anguish.
But this woman, with her dimpled smile and honest candor, had drawn him almost unwillingly with her to her secret place. As much as he told himself not to go, he couldn't maintain his distance.
He wanted to go with her. To be with her.
* * * *
Megan halted to catch her breath. Richard stopped too, looking hesitant now, maybe not as confident in going with her any more. She smiled and gestured to him with her hand. She moved on and much to her relief, he followed.
The trees had thickened some as they wove their way between them. Megan led them on a trail that she had followed since she was a small girl, one that was not far from her village, where she would often sneak away. She had found the hot springs by accident one day when she was following a wounded rabbit. Since then, it had been her favorite secluded place. Few knew of it.
The trail widened when they came upon some thick bushes. After ensuring that Richard was following, she pushed her way in. The circle of bushes led the way to her much revered hot springs. Water gently bubbled from the earth, circulating and filling the large hole. Steam surrounded the area, making it appear almost dream-like in its entirety.
Cool water fell gently down a sloped rocklike face, flowing into the hot springs like a cool breeze on a warm day. Lush plants surrounded the springs, thriving in the moist environment, ladling the water toward themselves to sustain life. In reward for their lives, they offered privacy to the occupant of the springs.
She heard Richard's inhaled breath as he fell in next to her. She slowly lowered herself to the moss-covered ground at the edge of the water and plunged her hand into the springs, sighing and smiling as she swirled the water around.
Richard sank down kneeling next to her. He didn't move—just eyed her activity. She turned toward him and smiled, continuing to run her hand through the water. She watched his eyes run over her face and then dip down to the top of her dress where the whiteness of her breasts showed as she leaned over. She blushed at his scrutiny and pulled back her hand.
"Lovely, isn't it?” She truly loved the solitude this spring allowed her, and always had.
"No doubt about that, my beauty,” was his only remark.
Megan's head snapped around. She flushed. It was almost as if he wasn't talking of the springs. It was almost as if he was speaking of her. She closed off that line of thinking.
She turned and sat in front of him, crossing her legs. She placed her elbows on her knees, cradling her face in her hands and stared at him.
She studied his face.
He had a golden tan, but she could tell that his usual coloring was light. She had to surmise that the sun of frequent battles had bronzed him. His sea-green eyes stood out from his face. They were truly incredible, like looking at a piece of the craggy isle waters. His hair was dark, although she saw a touch of red between his gently curving locks. His hair hung long and loose around his large shoulders. It fell forward when he moved and he made no move to right it when it dropped into his face.
Megan had situated herself so that she sat close to him, so close that she could smell his scent—musky, but not in a bad way—a unique fragrance of him that unconsciously drew her. As if of its own volition, her hand reached out to touch his face. He watched her. At first she recognized the longing in his expression; then he jerked away from her hand, rose and walked away to stand several feet away from her, almost in a huff.
"I thought you promised to leave once yo
u brought me here.” He didn't speak of the incident, but just retracted into himself—behavior with which she was beginning to become familiar.
Megan sighed in resignation. So it was true; he surely didn't enjoy being touched.
"Why do you not like others to touch you?” She had always been honest in her dealings with others. She saw no reason to be any different with him. He walked to the edge of the water.
"I have my reasons, Megan.” He was silent. She waited and hoped he would tell her more.
"I am a very good listener, should you feel the need to talk.” He turned, and the tortured look he gave her made her stand and step toward him. He put out a hand as if to ward her off. She stopped. The hand was telling her not to come any further, and she knew he was serious this time.
"I do not."
"Now I will ask you to fulfill your promise and leave me be.” His voice had risen. She could tell he was agitated with her. She dipped her head down and frowned. Her cheerfulness faltered, causing tears to back up in her throat.
What am I thinking?
It was clear this man didn't want any company.
"Of course, I'm sorry, I dinna...” She stopped and twirled to make her exit before he saw the tears she finally released. She started to walk away when his command stopped her.
"Megan!"
She didn't turn. She felt the wetness on her cheeks. She didn't want him to see what his bitterness had done to her. She heard his audible sigh.
"Thank you, for showing me this.” There was an apology in his voice, but Megan still didn't turn. She heard him give a command to Caine, and then Caine was next to her, she assumed, to escort her home.
* * * *
Richard's heart squeezed in his chest as he watched Megan walk away. He closed his eyes in regret. He sensed the hurt he had genuinely caused her by his angry words, despite the fact she would not turn to acknowledge him. He ran a hand over his face.
Why does it have to be this way?
Why did he have to work so hard to push people away when he really wanted to pull them toward him? That's what he had wanted to do with Megan. He had wanted to draw her into his arms, slowly press his lips to hers and gently sip from the energy and goodness he sensed within her. It was very clear by her actions that she was enthralled with him. So why hadn't he let her touch him?