An excerpt from
Wish for the Moon
“Rannulf may have let you in, but I guarantee he’s just outside the door listening. He’s listening for you to sound the alarm, for furniture to fly. I am . . . infamous.”
“That’s ridiculous. Rannulf’s probably back in his own quarters by now. Why would I raise such a ruckus?”
Matthias’s hand tightened on hers. “Care to test me?”
Carrie figured he’d meant his notion about the eavesdropping knight, but for some reason the way he’d said it, voice all deep and gravelly, she conjured up intriguing images of her testing him. All of him.
The stone walls were thick. You had to be right by the door to hear raised voices within. She could sing “Free Bird” at the top of her lungs and probably nobody would hear to come ask what the racket was.
“If I kissed you . . . would you scream?” he whispered.
“Of course I wouldn’t.” Oh, she hadn’t meant to sound as if she welcomed another kiss. Which she just might.... “I mean, kissing you isn’t exactly frightening. Right now, you’re paranoid and drunk, but you’re not a beast. I’m not afraid of you, and nobody thinks you’re going to hurt me. I certainly don’t.”
He pressed her palm to his lips for a warm kiss and then placed her hand just above his heart. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the sensation of his skin beneath hers. His chest rose and fell on deep breaths. He stroked his knuckles along the sensitive skin of her inner arm, outstretched toward him. Awareness spurred the blood in her veins to quicken under his motion.
Matthias rocked slightly and then leaned closer. His gaze settled on her lips, and at this proximity, she could smell the sweet mead on his breath.
“You’re courting the very devil coming in here.”
Carrie shivered but forced herself to return his stare. “I’m not afraid of you. You have no reason to be angry with me.”
“I never said I was angry. But you should be afraid, even so. What I’m feeling right now is far from anger.”
His eyes drifted down her body meaningfully.
Carrie’s stomach flittered, but she ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to be indulging in fantasies involving Matthias. “Your mead is talking, because you have no interest in me when you’re sober.”
His eyes glittered with a strange new intensity. “Sober or drunk, I’m always a beast. The thoughts I have are the same—thoughts about you, Carrie. Only, the mead loosens my tongue and weakens my restraint. You’ll soon wish you hadn’t come here because I feel no compunction, only wants and needs.”
His voice softened to almost a purr in his heavy Welsh accent. He leaned nearer so that her arm was the only barrier separating their bodies. At this angle he seemed very much like some predator, come to carry her off in his teeth. A mouse, however, had more defenses at the moment than she did. A mouse could run and hide from its hunter, while she felt glued to the spot, caught up in the trap. His words both excited and shocked her. She was glad he couldn’t feel how hard her heart was pounding.
“You’re driving me crazy, Carys. I want to make you feel just a fraction of what you’re doing to me.”