Page 47 of A Touch So Wicked

Damian felt as if his life was unraveling. How could Elissa have done this to him? She was fiery temptation and primal torment. He was still stunned by the knowledge that making love to Elissa had been the singularly most satisfying experience of his life. One he wasn’t sure he wished to terminate. Elissa had betrayed him, however, and that deed could not go unpunished.

Needing time alone to think, Damian went to the stables and ordered his horse saddled. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to get away. He was well away from the fortress when he heard someone pounding after him. Glancing behind him, he saw Dickon hard on his heels. He halted to let Cosmo drink from a burn as he waited for his friend to catch up with him.

“What are you going to do about her?” Dickon asked without preamble when he reined in beside Damian.

“I wish I knew,” Damian said dully. “Elissa’s continued defiance baffles me. I thought I knew women, but she is an enigma.”

“A profound statement, given your experience with women,” Dickon chuckled. “You might consider sending her to London.”

“This is no joking matter, Dickon,” Damian argued. “I can’t send her to London. It could mean her death, given the state of the king’s mind where Jacobites are concerned.”

“There is one solution you haven’t considered.”

Damian made a dismissive sound in his throat. “I’ve considered every reasonable solution.”

“How about this one? Marry the lady to one of your knights. Preferably to someone who can keep her in line. After a babe or two, I predict she’ll cause no further mischief.”

Damian stared at Dickon as if his friend had blasphemed. The idea was outrageous. Marry Elissa to someone else? Let another man take her to his bed and make love to her?

“You have to admit the idea has merit,” Dickon continued blithely.

He raised one dark brow. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Aye,” Dickon said, nodding vigorously. “Wed her to someone she can’t wind around her finger. A strong man capable of putting an end to her shenanigans. I believe Sir Brody is such a man. He’s a battle-scarred knight known for his short temper and heavy hand. Let him deal with her.”

Damian gave a bark of laughter. “Haven’t you noticed that Sir Brody’s affections lean more toward the mother than the daughter?”

Dickon gave an elaborate shrug. “It makes little difference where his affections lay. Sir Brody will do as you say.”

Damian discarded Dickon’s suggestion out of hand. The idea wasn’t at all feasible. He suspected that beneath Sir Brody’s crusty exterior lay a soft heart. If Elissa were to wed an Englishman, it should be to a man who would deal harshly with her without breaking her spirit. A man like…himself?

A violent shake of his head cleared his mind of that ridiculous notion. Soon he would have a bride who would bring riches to his coffer, one chosen specifically for him by the king. What he didn’t need was a woman who hated him, a vixen who bore watching like a hawk lest she slay him in his sleep.

“I’ll consider your suggestion, Dickon,” Damian hedged. “But Sir Brody isn’t the right man for Elissa.”

“You will give it serious thought, won’t you, Damian?”

“Aye. Shall we continue our ride?”

Damian and Dickon returned to the keep in time for the noon meal. Damian plopped down in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. He served himself from a platter of meat and chewed thoughtfully. But after the first bite his appetite for food abruptly vanished.

His hunger for Elissa, however, was still potent and inescapable. He recalled every nuance of their lovemaking the night before, every little sigh he’d wrenched from her, each moan, and the final scream at the height of her climax. Had she been pretending? It seemed unlikely, given her inexperience. No matter, real or pretense, he knew Elissa would betray him again and yet again, given the chance.

“Fix a tray for Lady Elissa,” he growled to a passing servant. “I’ll take it up to her myself.”

Damian returned his attention to his food but was interrupted when Lora skipped into the hall with Nan following in her wake. “Am I late, Damian?”

Despite his dark mood, Damian smiled at the fetching child. “You’re just in time, Lora.” He scraped back his chair. “Here, take my place.”

Lora scooted into Damian’s chair, then looked about her, as if searching for someone. “Where is Lissa?”

“Your sister won’t be coming to the table today,” Damian proclaimed in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the hall. “She’s been confined to the tower.”

“Again?” Lora wailed. “What has she done now?”

“You’re a child, you wouldn’t understand,” Damian said, more harshly than he intended.

Maggie appeared with a cloth-covered tray in her hands. Damian took it from her, nodded his thanks, and strode off. “We’ll talk later, Lora,” he called over his shoulder.