The Tempted (6 page)

The more he fought, the more she saw the anger return. It was like it consumed him, took him. The more the men came at him, the more the fury showed. One by one, the men of her clan died by the stranger’s hand. It wasn’t until he was battling Donald that she knew she had to stop him.
 

Morvan shouted, hoping to get the stranger’s attention. When that didn’t work, she walked closer. “You must stop,” she said. “There has been enough killing.”

She stepped over the fallen men as Donald and the stranger punched each other. The stranger had divested Donald of his sword early on in the fight, and it was all hand-to-hand now.

Suddenly, the stranger had Donald on his back, choking him. Morvan hurried to the men, knowing that the stranger might very well turn on her again.

“Stop,” she said and touched him.

Just as before, she felt a tremor go through him. He didn’t release Donald, but he loosened his grip and turned his head toward her.

“No more killing,” she said again and looked into the man’s hazel eyes. Morvan glanced down at Donald to find him watching them.

The man looked back at Donald and slammed his fist into Donald’s jaw, knocking him out. The man then got to his feet and faced her.
 

“You can no’ go back,” he stated.

His voice was as deep and silky as she imagined it would be. It sent a thrill through her that clumped low in her belly, urging her to take note of his fierceness – as well as his protection of her.
 

The lucidity had returned to the man again. Had her touch done that? In animals yes, but she hadn’t known it to work on humans. Then again, he was more beast than man when in battle.

“Did you no’ hear me, lass? Donald knows you’ve helped me. Twice, I might add. He’ll kill you.”

Morvan glanced back in the direction of her cottage. “No one knows this forest like I do.”

“He’ll find you eventually. Come with me,” he urged.

She looked down at the hand he held out to her. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Stefan. Stefan Kennedy.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as she took his hand and he led her towards the water.

“As far from here as we can get. Is there another clan who will take you in?”

Since their only option was to cross the stream, Morvan lead him to the shallow part when she drew up at his words. “What? I thought you were from the Sinclairs.”

“Nay. My clan is far from here.”

The day was growing grimmer by the moment. Morvan crossed the stream, but as soon as they were on the other side, Stefan took the lead.

“How far is it to Sinclair land?”

“Not far,” she said staring at his back. There was more blood on him, and she would guess that his other wounds were bleeding again. “We should reach the border in about thirty minutes.”

He held a tree limb up for her to duck under. “Do you know anyone there?”

“Nay. It appears the Sinclairs and MacKays are about to go to war.”

They walked in silence for a bit. Then Stefan stopped and turned to her. “What did you do to me?”

Morvan blinked. “Do? I tended to your wounds.”

“Nay. You touched me and…you calmed me.”

She looked at the ground and gave a shake of her head. There was no use denying it. “I tend to the animals of these woods.”

“Meaning?” he pressed in a soft voice.

“I heal them or help them if they’re trapped.”

“Like my hare earlier?”

She jerked her gaze to him, once more finding herself ensnared by his hazel gaze and thick, dark lashes. “I didn’t know it was yours. There is nothing special about me. I merely take the time with the animals, and I’m calm with them. That in turn calms them.”

He took a step toward her, closing the distance so their bodies were nearly touching. His gaze was probing, searching. “Call it what you will, but there is something special about you, Morvan. No one has been able to pull me back like you have. And both times, only with a simple touch.”

“Pull you back from what?” she asked softly.

“You saw me. You saw the monster I become when my fury gets ahold of me.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Any time I get angry.”

She could feel the heat coming off him. He was intense, forceful, and dangerous. He set her on edge, and he made her ache for something she couldn’t name. It was a growing feeling inside her, one that began the day before.

“What makes you angry?” she asked.

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile, but there was only desolation in his eyes when he said, “Everything.”

He turned and continued on their path. Morvan fell in step behind him, wondering what turned a man like Stefan so furious all the time.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he said over his shoulder. “Then I must leave.”

Morvan knew she should leave well enough alone, and yet she found herself asking, “To return to your clan?”

“Nay. I’m hunting the gypsy who ruined my life.”

Morvan decided it was best to keep from asking more questions. She kept up with his fast pace, even as her ribs ached. The tea she’d drank that morning, and again at noon before the MacKays arrived at the cottage, was helping control the pain. But only just.
 

Not once did she ask Stefan to slow. She hoped she would be able to shake the gloomy feeling once they crossed onto Sinclair land, but it only grew with every step she took.

When dusk came, Morvan looked up to discover that Stefan had brought them back to the cliff where she’d first seen him. Thankfully, he didn’t make the climb up.
 

“We’ll stop here for the night,” he said.

When he started to walk off, she stood in his path and gave him a shove back. “Sit so I can look at your wounds.”

It looked like he might argue for a moment, but then he sat on a boulder and lifted a brow.

Morvan first looked at the damage he had done to his previous wounds before she examined the fresh ones. “The new ones don’t look that bad, but I need more herbs for your leg and the wounds on your chest from this morning. Stay here until I get what I need.”

To her surprise, she didn’t have to go far to gather the herbs. As she made her way back to the cliff, she happened to see Stefan stand up. His shirt was gone and water dripped down his bare chest from the small pool of water where he had been washing.

She let her gaze wander over his finely sculpted muscles from his shoulders and arms, to his chest that narrowed to a V at his waist. She was too intent on his wounds before to notice the many scars that crisscrossed his entire torso. Despite the scars – or perhaps because of them – his body was amazing. He was a warrior in the truest sense of the word. She didn’t know of another who could fight a group of men twice in one day and come out the victor both times.

She let her eyes slowly travel back up his chest, her hands wishing they could feel his warm skin, to know the shape of his muscles. When she looked into his face, Stefan was staring at her.

Morvan wasn’t a maid. She’d once given her heart – and her maidenhead – to a man she’d thought loved her. Even if she were a maid, she would’ve recognized the desire in Stefan’s eyes.

It had been so long since she’d felt such yearning stir that she feared it as much as she craved it.
 

Stefan tossed aside something that Morvan only belatedly realized was his ruined shirt. She walked to him, their gazes never breaking. When she reached him, she pushed him back to sit on a rock and knelt between his legs. She saw a droplet of water fall from the end of his hair to his collarbone. Without thinking, she covered the drop with her finger and spread it over his chest.

His skin was warm, his chest hair crinkling beneath her palm. Morvan’s blood pounded through her as desire coiled tightly.

She went from wound to wound washing them and packing them with herbs before taking more of her shift to use as bandages.
 
Every time she touched Stefan, it became harder and harder to keep her hands from him. He was like a magnet drawing her to him.

There were no words spoken. She felt his gaze on her face even as she kept her eyes on his magnificent body. If she looked up, she might give in to the desire that was slowly consuming her.

When she finished dressing his wounds, she set aside the herbs. After a moment, she lifted her eyes. She didn’t flinch away when his hand cupped one side of her face. He pulled her to him the same time he lowered his head. Their lips brushed once, twice, seeking, searching.

A moan rumbled in Stefan’s chest as his arms wound around Morvan and pulled her closer. He deepened the kiss, the passion flaring high, the desire erupting brightly.

CHAPTER FIVE

Stefan knew he should soften the kiss, but he couldn’t. The longing, the desire was too great. Touching Morvan affected him in ways he couldn’t describe, but kissing her set his blood afire.

Her hands roamed over his back, her touch both gentle and needy. His cock jumped when she shifted again, bringing their bodies tightly together. He ground his arousal against her and then moaned as her nails dug into his back. The woman was a temptress, a siren. And he was powerless against the yearning to have her.

Stefan bent her over his arm and kissed down her throat. He watched the way her chest heaved, the way her head lolled to the side to give him access. He heard her soft moans, saw her swollen lips still wet from his kisses.

He forgot everyone and everything except the woman in his arms. All that mattered was Morvan and the passion that raged between them.

He wouldn’t be content until she was writhing beneath him, until she was so sated she couldn’t move. Until he looked into her nutmeg brown eyes and saw her climax reflected there.

“Your wounds,” Morvan said when her hand skimmed over one of his bandages.

Stefan took her mouth in another kiss. He didn’t care about his injuries. He felt nothing but pleasure right now, and that’s all he would feel.

He moved off the rock to kneel in the thick grass in front of her. Morvan’s kisses were like a drug, and he never wanted it to end. A moan slipped from him. He had to feel her skin against his, to see her in all her glory. Stefan grabbed a handful of her skirts and pulled them upward.

A heartbeat later, she was helping him remove her gown. She toppled over as he finally got it off. Her laughter was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, and it brought a smile to his lips.

She looked up at him before she removed her boots. Stefan swallowed hard when he caught a glimpse of her bare thigh as she rolled down her stockings. Then all that remained was her thin shift.

Stefan held his breath, waiting for her to remove the last bit of her clothing. He had seen her naked, but he hadn’t looked – much to his dismay. That’s what his anger did to him.

But that rage was a world away at the moment.
 
That’s how he wanted it to stay.

He unpinned his kilt and let the material fall away. When he started to lean over her, she held up a hand.

“Wait,” she said and sat up.

The way she looked at him, as if she didn’t think he was real, perplexed him. There was no denying the awe in her gaze, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Out of his friends, he was the last of them that women saw or even paid attention to. He wasn’t sure how to react to the way Morvan reverently touched him, smoothing her hands over his chest while always being careful around his bandages.

Everywhere she touched, his skin burned for more. From his shoulders to his chest and down his abdomen she left a trail of fire. Not once did she recoil at his many scars. Not once did the light in her gaze dim.

“Magnificent.” She lifted her brown eyes to his. “That’s what you are.”

“I’m a warrior, meant for battle and death. There’s nothing good about me.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she rose up on her knees and cupped her hands around his face. “You are magnificent and beautiful and glorious.”
 

Her eyes held nothing but honesty. No one had ever looked at him the way Morvan did now. Stefan slid a hand around her waist. With just a few words, her touch, and her direct gaze, she changed something within him. It didn’t make sense, but nothing had since he’d encountered her.

“Are you real?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Their lips were close, the desire burning hot. Stefan took her mouth in a frantic kiss of need and…hope. He held out a hand to break their fall as he pushed her backward.

He covered her body with his, kissing her senseless while slowly working her shift up her thighs and over her hips. He’d never been so hard for a woman in his entire life.
 

Stefan yanked off her shift and then looked down at Morvan. He was enthralled by her curves, taken by her alluring body. Her breasts were plump, her nipples a dusky brown. His gaze stopped for a moment on the large bruise on her side that looked as if it were already healing. Her waist narrowed before her hips flared out enticingly.