Page 51 of The Scot

Chapter 22

“Good day, Idalia,” Terric said as he approached them. “Roysa.”

She caught her sister’s eye before turning in her seat.

“A brief word?” Terric held out his hand.

“Of course.” She took it, the warmth of his touch leaving her bereft much too quickly.

The last time he’d asked her that, Roysa had not quite been prepared for what he had to say. What was he about to tell her now?

“We should not venture as far as yesterday,” Terric said, leading her through the hall. “But I convinced Lance a wee respite would not be out of order.”

“Did he take much convincing?” she asked as Terric opened the second door they came to just off the great hall.

“Nay,” he said, stepping inside and allowing her to enter. “He did not.”

“’Tis the buttery,” she exclaimed, spying a chamber filled with wooden casks and barrels. Then he closed the door, and everything went black around her.

“What—”

He cut her off with a kiss. Though Roysa couldn’t see him, she could certainly feel him. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving across hers effortlessly. She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around his shoulders, holding on with everything she had. Thankfully, she had dressed simply this eve, the fabric of her low-cut gown thin enough that she could feel him pressed against her.

It struck Roysa that she felt safer here, in this darkened room, with battle-ready knights bearing down on them, than she had in months. She felt protected. Of course, she’d always felt that way at Stanton, but she hadn’t realized how important it was until she’d left. Until she’d found herself a veritable prisoner in Stokesay Castle.

When his lips moved to her neck, Roysa offered it freely.

“This is courting, then?” she breathed.

“Nay, ’tis more. I need more.”

She could hardly see his face in front of her. But he was there, his nose pressed near hers, his warmth more inviting than the hearth.

“So much talk of death.”

Another kiss.

“And destruction.”

This one, on the corner of her mouth.

“I needed . . .”

Roysa kissed him first. She knew what he needed—for she needed the same thing. When his hands roamed down to her breasts, she welcomed the touch. Pressed into his hands, even when his mouth moved lower and lower. Terric’s warm breath alerted her to his intent, and he proceeded to tug on her neckline, just above her breast.

He explored with his mouth, and Roysa arched upward, silently begging for more. For everything.

The knock was so jolting, she nearly fell backward in her haste to jump away from him.

When he opened the door, her eyes narrowed at the light’s intrusion.

“Terric?” came the fervent question.

“Lance, by God—”

“We have visitors.”

Terric opened the door a bit wider.