Laird of Misrule: A Medieval Historical Romance (The Enchanted Well Book 1) by Mary Wine

Author:Mary Wine [Wine, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2024-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Prudence jumped. She whirled around, the bundle dropping from her fingers.

Dugan tilted his head to one side, appearing perplexed with her. “Are ye truly thinking to venture out in the darkness?”

Frustration drew its sharp claws along her hopes for an escape.

“Yes,” she snapped. “You should let me go.”

For a moment he appeared to contemplate what Prudence believed to be an uncrossable chasm between them. The differences between Scot and English felt so very great right now.

But he looked over toward a basket of fruit. He reached past her to pick up an apple. “Should I admit that I wanted to see what ye thought of me when ye looked into the water of the Enchanted Well?”

Whatever she’d thought he might say, that wasn’t it.

Dugan tilted his head to one side. “I was drawn to ye, Braylin.”

Prudence’s mouth went dry. She felt exposed, because the truth was, she understood exactly what he was saying. She’d felt the same way.

Dugan held the fruit in the air between them. He pointed at her. “Ye did yer own share of enchanting me at the bonfire. The way ye looked at me with those dark eyes of yers. How could I resist?”

Braylin felt her eyelids fluttering. She had never felt so…so…well, so very alive.

Dugan was watching her. In truth, he was staring at her with such intensity, she should have wanted to move away. But instead, she stared back, fascinated by the attention.

Time felt like it was standing still. Prudence didn’t care what was happening outside of the storeroom. There was only Dugan and the way he made her feel. His gaze on her was intoxicating.

The semidarkness seemed to offer them permission to do…well, to be there together when it was something forbidden.

“Now that ye are here Braylin, I cannot fight the urge to keep ye,” he muttered.

“That makes no sense.” Her voice was raspy, sounding almost as though she was fighting herself with her protests.

“It does nae,” Dugan agreed. “And yet lass, I want to see if ye tremble when I touch ye…as ye did at the bonfire.”

Dugan lifted his hand. Prudence felt her breath catch in response. He was reaching for her, his hand coming closer until she felt the brush of his fingertips against her cheek.

Prudence sucked in a shaky breath.

She’d never felt anticipation, hadn’t realized her body might react in such a way to just a simple brush of fingers against her skin.

She felt besotted by him, unable to look away. And she craved more of him. Much, much more.

Dugan didn’t deny her. He leaned in, tilting his head to one side so that their lips might fit easily against each other. She shuddered at the first contact, pulling back to draw in a shaky breath that sounded abnormally loud. Dugan hovered near her for a moment, then pressed his mouth against hers once more.

His kiss was soft, gentle…and oh, so tempting. Her heart was thumping hard inside of her chest. She felt a rush of insane excitement, pushing her, teasing her.

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