Part 33 (1/2)

”No... I dinna think I am.”

Fayth's gaze tangled with his and she couldn't look away. Her hand rested on his shoulder after touching his face, but she didn't move it, even though her arm ached with the effort of holding it there.

His arm slid more fully around her, drawing her near, supporting her weight so she didn't have to. His head lowered. He was going to kiss her. Why? Was it the fever? Had it affected his mind?

”Do you remember... before, when you kissed me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Her breath caught and she gave a jerky nod.

”So do I. I canna stop thinking about it.”

His voice, his words, disarmed her and she went limp. His whiskers brushed against her skin as he pressed a kiss against her closed eyelid. The kiss was as unexpected as his words and her breath hitched. He murmured something she could not understand. His hand slid up her neck, his thumb tilting her chin upward. He looked at her, she knew, though she could not look back.

His lips brushed against hers and the last of her strength was sapped away. His mouth was as hot as the rest of him, but she welcomed it, her own body always cold since her fever fled. Her mouth opened beneath his, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He dragged her against his chest, mindful of her arm. His tongue traced her lips and teeth before dipping inside. The wanting grew with each wild beat of her heart as he kissed her deeper still, sucking and probing her tongue and lips. No, the other kiss had not been a dream and nor had the fever been what had burned her to ashes-it had been Alex.

His hand, hot as coals, slid under her tunic, over the coa.r.s.e homespun of her s.h.i.+rt, until he cupped her breast. It seared her like a brand through her s.h.i.+rt, startling her so she drew back in surprise.

He pulled his hand away, but held her close, pressing his forehead to hers, his hand cupping her head. ”G.o.d help me, but I can do little more than kiss ye right now.”

Her vision was fuzzy and she felt as though she floated. ”Why?” Her voice surprised her, rough, breathy. She wanted his hand back, only under her s.h.i.+rt this time, burning her skin.

”I fear I might faint from the effort.” But he kissed her again, his tongue swirling against hers, drawing her into him. She wanted to stay that way, her weakened body pulsing with his strength, his warmth.

He broke away. Her head fell forward against his shoulder, quivering with desire. She tried to burrow closer, her face against his neck. He smelled of the forest and of the herbal poultice and wine Davie used to cleanse his wound.

”You don't hate me,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She stilled, wis.h.i.+ng he would stop reminding her of Jack. His hands rubbed over her back and lower, skimming the curve of her bottom. Jack had never kissed her senseless-and she'd never returned his kisses with such enthusiasm. Shame filled her at the thought of Jack-that she would want to forget him, that she would compare him to Alex. He deserved better than this. She hadn't done her duty to him. As a Graham she was expected to avenge his death and here she was, l.u.s.ting after Red Alex.

What if Alex didn't do it? Her heart faltered. He didn't seem the type to murder indiscriminately.

”Did you kill Jack?” Once she whispered the words, she wished them back, but they hung there in the silence.

His hands stilled. He said nothing for a long while and a fear filled her, fear that he didn't remember, that he'd killed so many prisoners he couldn't put a face to them all.

”I'm responsible for his death.”

She stiffened, drawing away from him. ”Responsible? Did you order him killed? Or did you kill him with your own hand?” She was aware that her voice rose in anger and agitation, and something else, despair. She'd wanted him to say no.

He sighed, trying to pull her close again. ”Fayth...”

”Let me go.”

He dropped his arms, putting s.p.a.ce between them. She stared straight ahead, into the trees, aware that his gaze still rested on her.

”Aye, I killed him.”

She was such a fool. She was disgusted by what she'd done, with how she still longed for him. ”Get away from me.”

”Fayth-”