Page 47 of Wolfhaven

Lightning lit the sky. The sickly light flooded the hallway, casting his scars into sharp relief. Startled, he pulled back fractionally. His eyes searched her face.

“You aren’t afraid of me,” he said wonderingly.

“Should I be?”

He kissed her again instead of answering. This time, she felt the curve of his smile when his lips met hers. Evaine stood on tiptoe to kiss him back. She twined her hands around his neck. He wore only a linen shirt with a low collar. The fabric was so soft beneath her hands, in contrast to the crisp texture of his hair. He moaned and pressed her close. A thick ridge pressed against her hip. Evaine made a feral sound. She was no shy virgin. She knew what that meant. She wanted to know what he felt like inside her…

“Evaine?”

Gareth pulled away so quickly she felt bereft. Abandoned. Desire pulsed relentlessly between her thighs.

“Yes, Gran?”

“Could you help me with these apple pies?”

“Be right down.”

Gareth hadn’t moved far enough away to let her escape the way he had caged her against the wall. He kissed her once again. Nipped her ear. She felt the graze of his teeth on her earlobe in the way her core clenched around emptiness.

“We’re not finished,” he growled.

“Tonight,” she said, patting his chest. “I will find a way to slip out. Until then, Gran is no fool. She’s watching us. Our chaperone.”

“Hazel is going to make me court you, isn’t she?” Gareth grumbled.

“She’s going to try. Fortunately for you, your lordship, I am not trying to trap you into a marriage no matter how much my grandmother wishes I would. We’ll find a way to be alone together.”

Evaine all but skipped going down the stairs. She hadn’t felt this way about a man in ages. If the duke was that skilled at kissing, what else could he do with that talented mouth?

She was determined to find out.

Entering the kitchen, however, her giddy, fizzy joy went abruptly flat. Gran was bent over the counter, braced upright with one hand, coughing harshly into a dish towel. Red flecks dotted the pale fabric.

“Gran! When did this start?”

“This—morning—” Hazel choked out.

“Did you take your medicine?”

The old woman shook her head. “Gone. I thought there was a spare bottle. We didn’t have an extra after all. Only a partial one that’s gone now.”

“We’ll find a way to get into town and buy more. That’s what the sock money is for.” She made a cup of tea. Inadequate, but it helped for the moment. “What are you doing with these apples?”

Curling red skins lay in a heap on the counter. A pile of peeled apples, ghostly pale, sat in a bowl of cold water waiting to be sliced.

“Making pies.” She sighed. “I was going to take one to the Cogswells. For bringing us the venison.”

“Kind of you.” Kinder than they deserved, in her estimation.

“We only have one another out here, Evie. We don’t have to like one another, but we do need to rely on one another.”

Gran was right. Evaine pressed her lips into a thin line and took up the knife Hazel had been using to slice apples, still tasting Gareth. Thinking of his touch and her whispered promise to seek him out tonight.

How far would she let things go? Not that far, but she did want to spend time with him away from her grandmother’s watchful eye. Gran had been right about the duke—he wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he was certainly attractive—and not for his title. Gareth was compelling in ways she had never imagined possible, surly temperament and all.

Gareth

Once Evaine had disappeared down the stairs, Gareth slumped against the wall and spiked his fingers through his hair, tugging just to feel the pressure at the roots.