A LOST TOUCH OF INNOCENCE

           He stepped closer, so close that she could clearly see his eyes, dark with purpose and something else, something that sent a

           tremor  of alarm and resentment through her.  "Nay," he said.  "I shall see to that instruction myself."

            "Then do it," she snapped.  "Or is threatening me, frightening me more enjoyable to you than the deed itself?"

            "So, the little nun develops some backbone now she knows she is heiress to a large estate."

            "Kindlemere has naught to do with this.  I tire of your taunts.  I tire of you being kind one moment, and . . .  cruel the next."

            Something indefinable flushed in his dark eyes.

            "Perhaps ‘tis a lack of womanly companionship that makes me . . .  irritable."

            She waved a hand at the window.  "Seek out your whore.  ‘Twas clear she was all but begging for your attentions."

            "That she was.  But I find I’ve a taste for innocence."

            Giselle stood her ground as he closed the distance between them, clutching her rosary in damp hands.   

            He brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, his gaze hard on hers.

            "You will not . . ," Giselle gritted her teeth, "force me."

            His gaze heated.  "Nay."

A LOST TOUCH OF PARADISE

  Lugh halted, astonished at the scene before his eyes. Within a small grove of trees, snowflakes whirled and fell, blanketing the ground with a sheen of white. He took a step forward and felt cool air wash across his face. But the snow was not the biggest surprise.
In the center of the snowfall, Lady Iosobal danced, her head tilted back, her joy evident in her fluid movements. The skirt of her lavender bliaut swirled around her, and the perfume of flowers filled the air, mixed with the cold, fresh scent of snow.
Lugh felt as if he’d fallen into a place out of time. He stood and watched Iosobal, realizing that he was seeing a very different woman than the one he’d come to expect. She flung out her hands and twirled like some kind of magical being embracing nature.
And, of course, she was.
Then, she whirled around and saw him. She stopped and pushed her hair back from her face.
The quiet was absolute, the snow falling heavily now, as they stood and stared at each other. “You need not stop,” Lugh said as he walked further into the clearing. He bent down and touched the snow, needing to assure himself that it was not an illusion of his mind. He took up a handful of cold, soft snow and slowly let it drift through his fingers.
“How long have you been watching me?” Iosobal asked, her voice as frosty as the ground beneath them.
“’Twas not my intent to intrude.”
She eyed him with clear skepticism. “You have a habit of intruding. Despite my instruction otherwise.”
He smiled. A part of him could scarcely credit that he was conversing with a woman who had created a snowfall which even now dropped big white flakes around them. What power she must possess to so such a thing, he thought. More power than you, his innervoice mocked. “Why?” he asked, gesturing around them.
The snowfall lightened, the sun reflecting off the falling flakes. “I have never felt snow. Ailie told me how much she liked it.”
Lugh’s chest tightened. “Aye, that she does. In the winter, she is forever trying to catch a flake on her tongue.”
“So, she said.”
Before he could question himself, Lugh reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. He smoothed his hand down behind her neck and wrapped his fingers in her thick hair.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
“You’ve a way with your spells, Iosobal.” He saw her swallow. “’Tis quite a gift,” he continued.
“Sometimes,” she answered softly. “But as with all gifts, it comes with a cost.” She tensed against his hand, but he did not release her.
“Why do you not ensorcell a man to abide here with you?”
They were standing so close he could see the flare of pain in her eyes. “It would not be real. Even if I could do such a thing, it would be my desires, not his.”
At the word desire, Lugh suddenly saw a host of images in his mind. Images of the woman nearly in his arms, a woman with the kind of power men would gladly kill for, yet utterly alone.
He could no longer deny it—a woman he wanted.
Though his heart would forever belong to Agatha, he would not deny that his body craved the woman before him.
Iosobal gazed up into Lugh’s gleaming green eyes and wondered what she was doing. Once again, she found herself within the Highlander’s grasp and—Saint Brigid forgive her—she could not seem to make herself pull away from the strength and warmth he exuded like the endless tides.
She looked at his mouth and shivered. Actually shivered. The man had a mouth of a god, a very sensual god.
And then to Iosobal’s astonishment, that wonderful mouth was on hers. Caressing, warm and firm. She put a hand on Lugh’s shoulder and closed her eyes, beset by the most amazing feeling in her belly. When he pulled her against his body, she felt every hard inch of him. She sucked in a breath and he took advantage to deepen the kiss, plundering her mouth. He tasted of wine and temptation, and she glutted herself on it.
Iosobal lost all sense of time and place, her very being narrowing to the delicious feeling of her first kiss. It was madness, incredible, dangerous madness. When he slowly pulled away, for a moment Iosobal nearly moaned in protest before she caught herself.
Lugh looked down at her with a knowing expression.
“Why . . . why did you do that?” Iosobal finally managed to ask.
He gave her a slow smile, the kind of smile that made her glad his supporting arm was still around her. “I want you,” he said baldly.
Iosobal blinked.
“You have never known a man, I ken.” He traced the outline of her lips with a fingertip and Iosobal had to remind herself to breathe. “I can be a gentle lover. Your pleasure will come first, I promise you.”
“You should not be saying these things.”
He cocked a brow. “Why not? ’Tis the truth.”
“Your visit here will soon be over and you shall return to your Tunvegan. There can be nothing between us.”
“On the last, I am thinking you are wrong.” His gaze grew intense. “There has always been something between us.”
Iosobal forced herself to pull away from him and crossed her arms. Recalling their first meeting, she said, “I am not available for your amusement.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then put his big hand under her chin and leaned close. “You would never be something so simple as an amusement.”
The man has probably lain with hundreds of women, Iosobal told herself, barely resisting swaying forward. He knows well what to say, what to do to lure a woman into his bed. And he will leave soon. She would never see him again. “No,” she said. She would not be as her mother, giving her body and heart to a man only to find it unwanted and impossible to retrieve.
“Your eyes say yes.”
“I’ve said I will do what I can to heal Ailie. I’ll not give you more.”
“But you want to,” he said softly.
God save her, he was right, but she would never admit as much. Remember who you are, she chided herself. You are the Lady of Parraba. You are apart from the world of men. She straightened her shoulders with resolve. “You are mistaken. Do not confuse inexperience with ignorance.”
“We shall see, Iosobal.” He said her name as a caress, and Iosobal gritted her teeth. “For the moment, however, I have another matter to discuss with you.”
Thank God, she thought. “What is it?”
“Walk with me.” He turned and began walking back toward the palace. Iosobal was tempted to remain where she was just to show the impudent man she did not take orders, but in truth she was ready to return to the palace herself.
She felt his gaze upon her as they walked, but she kept her own straight ahead.
“We made some discoveries at the cave today,” he said.
“Did you clear the opening?” She glanced at him. “You are not to enter.”
“So you said before. We are not quite there yet. What we found is most disturbing.”
“What?”
“’Twas no accident, Iosobal. Someone deliberately caused the stones to fall.”
Iosobal halted. “No. You cannot mean—”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “We found clear marks from a tool. Most likely a crowbar.”
Horror and disbelief thudded through her. “I cannot believe it. Why would anyone want to such a thing? No one on the island would wish to harm me. To what purpose? I take care of them.”
Lugh scoffed. “You assume that all perfidy must be logical. It is not.”
“Maybe not in your world, but Parraba is different.”
“Not so different after all.”
“No. We are different. There is no violence on Parraba. We lead peaceful lives. It is not like the mainland.” She knew she sounded defensive, but she could not believe one of her people would attempt to hurt her. Or that any of them would even dare.
“Iosobal.” He gripped her shoulder. “There is no question of it. Ask Piers or Branor. We all witnessed the marks. I can show you myself.”
“I cannot believe it. Why?”
“What people feel or believe is not taken away by living in a warm, sunny, peaceful place.”
Iosobal shook her head. “But it does not make any sense. I have no enemies on Parraba.”
“’Tis possible whoever did this did not know you were inside the cave at the time.”
“Why block the cave? ’Tis no threat to anyone.”
“Iosobal,” Lugh said in a somber voice. “The animals fear the place. The villagers know you are not like them. Has it never occurred to you that they may fear what they donna understand?”
“No,” she said slowly. She’d never given it a thought. It just was as it had always been. The idea that one of her villagers would act against her was inconceivable.
Lugh sighed. “Is there anyone in particular that you think may harbor ill feelings toward you?”
“No, of course not. I have very little contact with most of them.”
“I will look into this. Until I find who was responsible, you will not venture outside the palace alone.”
She looked at him, utterly aghast. “I will not be made a captive in my own home.”
His expression was implacable. “You must be careful. You do not even have the barest of defenses.”
“I do not need them.”
“You do now. ’Tis fortunate that I am here.”
“You will not turn my home into a fortress.”
“I do not have the men to achieve such a feat. But I will find this coward who threatens you.”
As they walked into the palace gardens, Iosobal tried to work her mind around what Lugh had told her. She could not. She tried to find comfort from his calm, confident tone, but it would not come. Someone out there had tried to bury her in her cave.
“Do so quickly,” she ordered, and walked away.
 

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