Page 29 of A Touch So Wicked

Unseen by Damian, Elissa gave an imperceptible nod. After a moment of indecision, the hall cleared, leaving Damian, Elissa, Sir Richard, and the cadre of soldiers Sir Richard had brought in case trouble ensued.

“That was close, Damian,” Sir Richard said.

Damian gave Elissa a cursory glance. “Lady Elissa was wise to avoid trouble. Send the soldiers back to their duties, Dickon, they won’t be needed today.”

Dickon nodded and strode away.

“You’ve had your way, my lord,” Elissa said. “I hope you are pleased.”

“Peace pleases me. I’m sick of war, tired of killing. Believe me or not, Elissa, I’ve known naught but war and bloodshed for more years than I care to remember. The only home I’ve known since Culloden has been an army tent. A knight’s life is a hard one. I had no land to call my own, nothing but my skill and cunning to rely upon. I want Misterly more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

After telling Elissa more than he’d intended, he clamped his lips together and turned away. What was wrong with him? He was telling Elissa things she had no business knowing. Suddenly he felt open and vulnerable, a sensation utterly foreign to him. The Demon Knight wasn’t a man known for baring his soul. When he’d gained control of himself, he turned back to confront Elissa, but she had slipped away.

Elissa returned to the kitchen with new insight into the harsh reality of the Demon Knight’s mind. When he’d mentioned his former life he’d sounded lonely. But how could it be? Men of Damian’s ilk were never lonely. He was a handsome man, she knew without being told that he did not lack for female companionship. And with friends like Sir Richard, Damian was luckier than most.

Could his lack of land be the driving force behind him? Elissa wondered. All men wanted land of their own. But why did it have to be her land? Once Damian’s bride arrived, an Englishwoman would become mistress of Misterly. It would be a stretch of the imagination to believe Damian’s bride would want Elissa and her family to remain.

Damian lounged against the ornately carved back of his chair, his silver gaze following Elissa as she moved about the tables distributing trays of food. Except for an occasional smile for one of her kinsmen, she blatantly ignored him, though she had to be aware of his intense scrutiny.

She looked tired, he thought, and wondered why he cared. The answer didn’t surprise him: he cared because he wanted her in his bed. He was convinced that having her one time would cure him of the obsessive attraction that existed between them. She could deny it till doomsday, but Damian could tell when a woman was ripe for the taking. Elissa wasn’t immune to him; her mouth had tasted sweetly of surrender each time he’d kissed her.

Damian shifted in his seat. Carrying around a permanent erection was ridiculous. Nothing was preventing him from taking Elissa, so why didn’t he? Bedding the lass would cure him of the uncomfortable itch that plagued him. Mayhap even rid him of the need she inspired in him. He should concentrate on Misterly, and harboring erotic thoughts about the vixen challenged his sanity.

Damian saw Elissa moving around the tables serving ale and lifted his tankard for her to fill. She did as he bade, but when she turned to leave, he grasped her arm, preventing her from moving away.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“Not yet.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Damian drawled. “I want you in my bed.”

“Donna shame me before my kinsmen.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Damian defended.

Elissa’s shoulders stiffened. “You canna demand that of me. I am promised to another.”

A hush settled around them as everyone stopped eating to watch the byplay between Elissa and Damian. Damian didn’t want to publicly embarrass Elissa, but neither did he intend for her to refuse him. He was the Lord of Misterly; his word was law. Taking Elissa would harm no one. He would be gentle with her, and make sure she gained pleasure from their mating.

“I do demand it,” Damian insisted. “Go to my chamber and prepare yourself for me.”

Dermot, Lachlan, and several other Frasers glared belligerently at Damian. Damian’s men-at-arms became instantly alert. Damian felt the tension building and realized he had inadvertently created a potentially explosive situation.

“If you wish to avoid trouble,” he whispered in an aside to Elissa, “you’d be wise to obey me.”

“Verra well, my lord,” Elissa said, awarding him with a beguiling smile. She was still grinning when she upended the pitcher of ale in his lap.

“Devil take you!” Damian yelled, jumping to his feet. He reached for her; she skittered away.

Damian started to follow but Dickon grasped his sleeve. “Let her go, Damian. Don’t make an ass of yourself before her kinsmen. I heard you order her to your bed. That wasn’t well done of you. Are you sure ’tis what you want?”

“I’m not sure of anything where the Maiden of Misterly is concerned,” Damian growled. “Just one time, Dickon, ’tis all I ask. She’s not immune to me, and I’ll make it good for her.”

“Take care, my friend. She’ll not make it easy for you. Just look around you. Her kinsmen will defend her should you dishonor her.”

“Elissa is too smart to seek help from her kinsmen. She doesn’t want bloodshed anymore than I do. Her kinsmen are ill prepared for a confrontation with professional soldiers.”