Prince of Desire (3 page)

His black gaze fairly smoldered.
 
It sent her stomach fluttering to have such a look directed at her.

To say he was handsome would be an understatement. His thick, wavy black hair stopped just below his shoulders, with a lock falling near his right temple. A regal nose and forehead went along with his noble stance. A strong jaw line and chin, just a shadow of a beard and wide, thin lips finished off a face a sculptor could only dream of. He had eyes as black as his hair, fringed with long lashes that would have made a lesser man look feminine.
 

Those wide shoulders she’d glimpsed the night before in the darkness didn’t prepare her for them in the cold light of day.
 
Thick sinew corded those broad shoulders and neck.
 
His tunic stretched tight over solid arms.
 
And how she wished his jerkin was gone so she could get a look at his chest.

Isabelle was shocked at her reaction to him, but it was visceral, primitive.
 
Primal.
 
This need, this hunger that besieged her ever since she’d first caught sight of Lucian atop his huge horse.

Whoever he was, she wanted to know more of it.

Silence grew between them until she cleared her throat, noticing that he’d let her look her fill. “Are you hungry? We serve some of the best food around.”

“I'm famished.”

Somehow she knew he wasn't referring to food. Chills raced down her spine and her heart pounded against her ribs as his eyes moved to her mouth.
 

Excitement. Exhilaration.

Anticipation.

She felt those things and more, so much more she couldn’t even begin to name.
 
Isabelle had never cared for strangers, and usually kept a clear path from them.
 
It wasn’t difficult in her small village tucked away in the Highlands.
 
No one sought out their village willingly.

Yet Lucian was here.
 
And she couldn’t seem to stay away from him.

Isabelle tucked her hand behind her back when she found herself reaching up to comb her fingers through his hair.
 
She didn’t know what was wrong with her.

“What are you serving tonight?”

“Mrs. MacDonald makes excellent haggis, but she’s also made a big pot of stew that will make your mouth water.”

Lucian's wide mouth pulled into a smile. “I'll take the stew and an ale.”

Isabelle moved toward the kitchen to get his order.
 
The need to return to him quickly made her nerves frazzled, and her already rapid heartbeat quickened.
 
She told herself it was because he was different from the men in her village, but the truth was…he stirred her. It had been so long since she had found anything exciting that she was drawn to him like the flowers to the sun.

“Isabelle, lass, are you all right?” Mrs. MacDonald asked as Isabelle hurried into the kitchen.

A laugh bubbled up inside her. She was anything but all right when Lucian was around. Isabelle smoothed the strands of hair away from her face. “Another order of your stew, Mrs. MacDonald.”

“Ach, I'm glad I made a big pot this time, though I fear I just might run out soon,” she said as she spooned the delicious stew into a bowl. “Tell me who it is that has made your face glow.”

Isabelle blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me, lass. I may be old, but I still remember what it was like to have a man notice me, especially when I was interested in that man.”

Isabelle laughed as she grabbed a spoon. “Mrs. MacDonald, I hope you're speaking of Mr. MacDonald.”

She winked as she handed Isabelle the bowl. “Of course, lass, of course. Now,” she said as she walked to the door. “Point him out to me so I can tell you if he's good enough for you.”

“I doubt you'll be able to tell me that.”

“Why is that, dearling?”
 

Isabelle reached the door and stared at Lucian. “He's new to the village.”

“Ah, a stranger.
 
We don’t get many of those around here.
 
Mayhap that’s just what you’re needing, lass.
 
The men left in this village aren’t worth much of anything.” Mrs. MacDonald leaned out and looked around the room. “'Tis the dark man by the door. I see the way his eyes search the room, as if he is looking for something,” she straightened and looked at Isabelle, “or someone.”

Isabelle smiled. “Just because he's added a little excitement doesn't mean anything.”

“It does if he is the same man that rescued you last night.”

“He’s the same man.”

Mrs. MacDonald mumbled something to herself and went back to her cooking. Isabelle walked through the doorway to the bar. She set the bowl of stew down and reached for a goblet.
 

“We're busy tonight,” Mr. MacDonald said from beside her.

“Aye. I’ll sleep well, that's for sure.”

“Who’s the stranger?”

She knew he would ask. Mr. MacDonald always made sure to know who it was that visited his tavern. “Lucian. He's the man who saved me last eve.”

His wrinkled face brightened. “Then give him his meal and ale free. Anyone who would put their own lives at risk to help you deserves no less.”

Isabelle nodded and took the bowl and ale to Lucian.

“Smells delicious,” Lucian said as he took the bowl.

Isabelle took a step back, making herself put distance between them.
 
“You won't be disappointed.”

“Shall I walk you home tonight?”

His question, softly spoken, sent a wave of eagerness through her.
 
A ‘yes’ was on the tip of her tongue when she paused.
 
“Why?”

His brows lifted. “Why? Could it be that I worry for your safety?”

“Could it be that you want to take advantage of me?” she retorted.

He lowered his spoon and met her gaze with inky dark eyes. “If I had wanted to take advantage of you, I could’ve done that last eve.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, wary because of her reaction to him.
 
What she was feeling was so abnormal that it frightened her, alarmed her. “I don't know.”

“You shouldn't be walking alone in the dark. I’ll even let you keep my dagger.”

She had completely forgotten to return it to him last night, but she did have it strapped to her thigh.
 
The thought of his hand on the weapon, the same weapon that was against her bare thigh, made her blood heat. “We close up in a couple of hours if you’d like to wait.”

He nodded and took a bite of the stew. “Excellent, just as you said.”

She walked away, her legs wooden and her body on fire.
 

For the rest of the evening Isabelle felt his eyes on her. No man had ever noticed her before, and certainly no man like Lucian. He didn't just look at her, his eyes devoured her.

And she liked it.

Possibly too much.

When they finally began to close up she watched as Lucian tried to pay Mr. MacDonald. After a few minutes, Lucian gave up and put the coins away. Isabelle grinned as she hurried to finish her duties so she could be with Lucian.

Alone.

With only the darkness and the night.

A shiver of eagerness went through her.

* * * *

Lucian couldn't wait to walk Isabelle home. This time he would go inside if she invited him. This time he would speak of who he was – and where he was from.

He just prayed she was willing to listen.

“I'm done,” she said as she placed the last chair atop the table.

He nodded. “Stay here while I get my horse.”

When he returned Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald stood at the door with Isabelle. “Thank you again for the delicious meal and fine ale.”
 

“We want to thank you for happening upon our Isabelle as you did. Lord only knows what would’ve happened had you not been there,” Mrs. MacDonald said.

Lucian refused to think about it and instead held out his hand for Isabelle. “Shall we?”

She waved good-bye to the MacDonalds, and he lifted her atop Elad before he took the reins and started into the darkness.

“How long will you be staying here?”

“Until I find what I came for.” He knew that wasn't the answer she wanted, but he didn't wish to speak of such things until he could see her face.

“More evasive answers?”

He grinned into the night. She was feisty.
 
Just what a princess of Drahcir should be. “I’ll answer all your questions, just not now.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

“Tell me of you,” he urged. “How long have you worked for the MacDonalds?”

He heard the smile in her voice as she said, “I started out helping with odd jobs when I was smaller and my grandparents were in the village. Then, as I got older and realized the extra coin helped, I began working whenever they needed help. It was about two years ago that I started working every day. They’re very good to me.”

“They love you.”

“Aye, and I love them. They’re my family now.”

He wanted to ask about her grandparents and parents but decided to wait. Somehow he knew it wasn't the right time. All too soon they arrived at her cottage, and he wondered if she would ask him in for tea again. He halted Elad by the door and reached up to help Isabelle down.

It was a taste of rapture to be able to touch her again, even if it was just his hands on her waist. When her hands gripped his shoulders for balance he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath.
 
Did he affect her the way she affected him?

He forced his hands to release her.
 
Slowly he let them linger on her before his arms dropped to his sides.
 
It was painful to know the woman who could help secure his kingdom stood before him, but knowing what it would cost her kept him from spilling everything right then.
 
He had to take it slow.

“Thank you for escorting me home.”

Lucian bowed regally. “A pleasure, for sure.”

“Would you like to come in for tea?”

He inhaled deeply, not realizing until that moment how much he had wanted her to ask. “I would love to. Let me see to Elad.”

Isabelle bit her lip as he walked away, then spun around and rushed into the dark cottage. She walked blindly to the hearth and hastily started the fire. By the time she had water in the kettle and over the fire, she heard the door open.

She smoothed her hands down her stained brown gown. Men never made her nervous, but this one set her on edge, made her worry about things like if her hair was neat or if her gown looked good. Men of marriageable age in her tiny village were scarce, and she never caught
 
their eyes. She had known for years that she would never have a family of her own.

Slowly, she turned to face her rescuer.
 

Her eyes traveled from his face to his wide shoulders. She swallowed as she imagined what he looked like without those fine black clothes of his.

“It’s as if you are of the night, almost as if you belong to it.”

His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“You wear all black, your hair and eyes are black, and even your horse is black.”

One side of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “What if I tell you that it’s exactly what I am?”

“I may be a peasant, but I’m not a fool.
 
My lord,” she said after a small hesitation to let him know she knew he was of nobility.
 

Lucian clenched his hands in fists as he watched her turn to the kettle. It was everything he could do to talk to her instead of crushing her to him and tasting her plump lips.
 

He had never believed everything his father told him. Aye, he knew he would recognize his mate, but he never expected to feel such…lust. He had thought his father told him that just to make things easier.

His eyes raked over her slender form, a form he watched from afar for too long. Now that she was so near to him, he devoured the very sight of her, from her soiled, plain gown to her long fingers that gripped the kettle handle to the profile of her face, a face that was no more peasant than he was, with her high cheekbones and stubborn chin.

When she turned and handed him a cup of tea, he looked into her midnight blue eyes and wished he could tell her everything without the fear of her running away.

“What is it?” she asked, her brow slightly furrowed as she stared at him.

Her question drew his gaze to her mouth, a mouth of the darkest pink, full and inviting.

“Nothing,” he said as he accepted the cup and sat down at the small table. “Have you always lived here?”

She nodded as she poured herself a cup. “It’s the only place I’ve ever known.”

“Are you happy here?”

She laughed as she joined him at the table. “What a strange question.”