Binding Vows
Page 17
“Aye,” he said, never letting his eyes wander from where his brother was making moves on Tara.
“That’s too bad.”
“What is bad?” He diverted his attention to Cassy.
“That you’re leaving. Any chance you and your brother could spend a little more time in the States.
I’m sure I could talk Tara into showing you both around L.A. for a week or so.”
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”
“Bummer.” His gaze slipped back to Tara and Cassy said, “I think you’re good for her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, I just think you are. She would never have gone along with all this if she hadn’t met you. Tara was ready to leave last night, and today she’s more...” Cassy swirled wine in the glass she held. “That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
He considered her choice of words. It was exactly how he felt since he had sat in her lap. “It makes plenty of sense.” He smiled at Tara’s friend, feeling a kinship with the woman who looked over his lady.
He thought for a moment about how his mind had drifted to those words, “his lady.” Tara wasn’t his. In no way could she be, yet it was how he felt.
“Oh... No!” Cassy interrupted his thoughts, and looked across the room. “Tara isn’t going to put up with that.”
The music had changed, and with it, so had Tara’s dance partner.
She stood eye to eye with him. His girth matched his obviously intoxicated state. His attempt to pull Tara close was met with resistance and brought Duncan to his feet, with murder in his eyes.
He looked every bit the medieval knight as he marched through the crowed with hardly a glance.
He watched the man’s hands slip below her waist.
She struggled to put distance between them, only to be harshly tugged next to the ogre.
Duncan couldn’t remember feeling as bloodthirsty for a man in all his warring days. The rogue would pay for touching her.
“Get off!” Tara yelled at the slobbering drunk. She pulled her hand away only to have him place a vice grip on it.
“What’s the matter lil’ lady, I know you’ll like what I got.” His tongue darted out of his mouth to catch the drool beginning to fall from his lips.
Tara was about to knee the man’s groin when she heard the sound of steel against steel. In a flash, she saw a three-foot long blade with a deadly point edging to the side of the drunk’s neck. Frozen in place, all Tara could do was stare.
Everything went silent. Abruptly the voices and music stopped, a deafening quiet in a crowded room sent shivers down her spine.
Only the voice of one pissed off Scott could be heard. “Unhand her,” Duncan ordered.
The drunk froze as the blade nicked his neck, drawing a tiny drop of blood. To the man’s embarrassment, his bladder let loose, further adding to his humiliation. It was amazing how still he stood with his eyes so glossed over.
“I didn’t mean any harm. Just havin’ a little fun, mate.”
Duncan pulled Tara to his side.
Stumbling back, the drunk tripped on a table, righted himself, and then ran from the room. Only then did Duncan put his sword back in its sheath.
Once the man was out of sight, Duncan shifted his eyes to Tara’s. “Are you all right?”
Her jaw dropped.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
Cassy stood and clinked a spoon against her half-empty glass. “All right folks! The show’s over!
Done. Go back to eating and whatever.”
Fin directed Grainna’s man to the drunk who needed to be put in his place. Duncan slipped away from the people with Tara on his arm. Alone.
She was having a hard time processing what had happened. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, would she ever have imagined a man drawing a sword on another on her behalf. It was one of those defining moments, the kind that made her glad she was a girl. Her heart gave a flutter when she replayed the scene in her head. It wasn’t that she felt very threatened by the man. Annoyed was a better word. The fact that Duncan was ready to shed blood for her gave her a power she never thought possible.
They walked in silence for some time before Tara said, “Thank you.”
“’Tis nothing.”
“Are you kidding? That man was a jerk. Before I knew what was happening there you were, putting him in his place.” She turned to him, smiled. “And all this time I thought this was a prop.” She touched the edge of his sword.
“What is a prop?”
“A fake. You know, part of a costume,” she explained.
“Oh.” His hand rested over hers. “Nay, ’tis no prop.”
“It looks heavy. Is it?” She grasped its hilt.
He drew it out for her, placed it in her hands.
“You tell me.”
Once he lifted his hand from the blade, the full weight pulled it down to the ground. “Wow.” Tara strained to lift it back up with both hands. “I had no idea it was this heavy.”
He had lifted it as if it weighted no more than a bag of marshmallows. Why did the thought send a tingle between her legs?
Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she handed him the sword. Her head turned toward the sky. She struggled with the sudden lack of conversation. “The stars are beautiful.”
“You are beautiful. The stars are bright and many.”
His eyes searched hers when they came to rest on his.
“What am I to do with you?” she whispered.
His arms circled her, pulling her close. “What do you want to do with me?”
“Well, what I want to do, and what I should do, are two entirely different things.” Her breath quickened when he pulled her closer still.
He held his mouth only a fraction away from hers. “Tell me what you want, Tara.”
His breath was warm and smelled faintly of wine. It was hard to think with him so close. She wanted desperately for his lips to join hers.
Just when she thought he would end her anguish, his lips sailed past hers and met with the beating pulse at the base of her neck. His hand grasped her long mane, pushed it aside, and exposed the long column for his pleasure.
Heat seared a trail where his lips traveled. “Tell me what you want,” he repeated, never giving her time to think as his lips tormented her throat.
A burning, she could never call a mere spark, started to build. Her body molded itself to his of its own accord. His teeth found the sensitive lobe of her ear, sending shock waves down her spine. “You,” she gasped. “God help me, I want you.”
“That’s too bad.”
“What is bad?” He diverted his attention to Cassy.
“That you’re leaving. Any chance you and your brother could spend a little more time in the States.
I’m sure I could talk Tara into showing you both around L.A. for a week or so.”
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”
“Bummer.” His gaze slipped back to Tara and Cassy said, “I think you’re good for her.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, I just think you are. She would never have gone along with all this if she hadn’t met you. Tara was ready to leave last night, and today she’s more...” Cassy swirled wine in the glass she held. “That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
He considered her choice of words. It was exactly how he felt since he had sat in her lap. “It makes plenty of sense.” He smiled at Tara’s friend, feeling a kinship with the woman who looked over his lady.
He thought for a moment about how his mind had drifted to those words, “his lady.” Tara wasn’t his. In no way could she be, yet it was how he felt.
“Oh... No!” Cassy interrupted his thoughts, and looked across the room. “Tara isn’t going to put up with that.”
The music had changed, and with it, so had Tara’s dance partner.
She stood eye to eye with him. His girth matched his obviously intoxicated state. His attempt to pull Tara close was met with resistance and brought Duncan to his feet, with murder in his eyes.
He looked every bit the medieval knight as he marched through the crowed with hardly a glance.
He watched the man’s hands slip below her waist.
She struggled to put distance between them, only to be harshly tugged next to the ogre.
Duncan couldn’t remember feeling as bloodthirsty for a man in all his warring days. The rogue would pay for touching her.
“Get off!” Tara yelled at the slobbering drunk. She pulled her hand away only to have him place a vice grip on it.
“What’s the matter lil’ lady, I know you’ll like what I got.” His tongue darted out of his mouth to catch the drool beginning to fall from his lips.
Tara was about to knee the man’s groin when she heard the sound of steel against steel. In a flash, she saw a three-foot long blade with a deadly point edging to the side of the drunk’s neck. Frozen in place, all Tara could do was stare.
Everything went silent. Abruptly the voices and music stopped, a deafening quiet in a crowded room sent shivers down her spine.
Only the voice of one pissed off Scott could be heard. “Unhand her,” Duncan ordered.
The drunk froze as the blade nicked his neck, drawing a tiny drop of blood. To the man’s embarrassment, his bladder let loose, further adding to his humiliation. It was amazing how still he stood with his eyes so glossed over.
“I didn’t mean any harm. Just havin’ a little fun, mate.”
Duncan pulled Tara to his side.
Stumbling back, the drunk tripped on a table, righted himself, and then ran from the room. Only then did Duncan put his sword back in its sheath.
Once the man was out of sight, Duncan shifted his eyes to Tara’s. “Are you all right?”
Her jaw dropped.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
Cassy stood and clinked a spoon against her half-empty glass. “All right folks! The show’s over!
Done. Go back to eating and whatever.”
Fin directed Grainna’s man to the drunk who needed to be put in his place. Duncan slipped away from the people with Tara on his arm. Alone.
She was having a hard time processing what had happened. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, would she ever have imagined a man drawing a sword on another on her behalf. It was one of those defining moments, the kind that made her glad she was a girl. Her heart gave a flutter when she replayed the scene in her head. It wasn’t that she felt very threatened by the man. Annoyed was a better word. The fact that Duncan was ready to shed blood for her gave her a power she never thought possible.
They walked in silence for some time before Tara said, “Thank you.”
“’Tis nothing.”
“Are you kidding? That man was a jerk. Before I knew what was happening there you were, putting him in his place.” She turned to him, smiled. “And all this time I thought this was a prop.” She touched the edge of his sword.
“What is a prop?”
“A fake. You know, part of a costume,” she explained.
“Oh.” His hand rested over hers. “Nay, ’tis no prop.”
“It looks heavy. Is it?” She grasped its hilt.
He drew it out for her, placed it in her hands.
“You tell me.”
Once he lifted his hand from the blade, the full weight pulled it down to the ground. “Wow.” Tara strained to lift it back up with both hands. “I had no idea it was this heavy.”
He had lifted it as if it weighted no more than a bag of marshmallows. Why did the thought send a tingle between her legs?
Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she handed him the sword. Her head turned toward the sky. She struggled with the sudden lack of conversation. “The stars are beautiful.”
“You are beautiful. The stars are bright and many.”
His eyes searched hers when they came to rest on his.
“What am I to do with you?” she whispered.
His arms circled her, pulling her close. “What do you want to do with me?”
“Well, what I want to do, and what I should do, are two entirely different things.” Her breath quickened when he pulled her closer still.
He held his mouth only a fraction away from hers. “Tell me what you want, Tara.”
His breath was warm and smelled faintly of wine. It was hard to think with him so close. She wanted desperately for his lips to join hers.
Just when she thought he would end her anguish, his lips sailed past hers and met with the beating pulse at the base of her neck. His hand grasped her long mane, pushed it aside, and exposed the long column for his pleasure.
Heat seared a trail where his lips traveled. “Tell me what you want,” he repeated, never giving her time to think as his lips tormented her throat.
A burning, she could never call a mere spark, started to build. Her body molded itself to his of its own accord. His teeth found the sensitive lobe of her ear, sending shock waves down her spine. “You,” she gasped. “God help me, I want you.”
