Her.
With sudden concern, he rolled to the side, taking her with him. He held her tightly against him, protectively, forehead to forehead. For long seconds, their breathing was interlocked, then Cas lifted his head and found her gaze.
Warm, satiated green eyes stared back at him.
“I have no words, Lia,” he began. “That was…”
She nodded, understanding at once. “For me too,” she managed.
“I am so glad you came here with me.”
“I’m so glad you asked.”
“This night has been surprising to me. I will remember it always.”
A flash of something moved across her face. Discomfort. Or was it unease? He asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Maybe I should go…?” she began.
“No.” The word sounded gruff and absolute. To further make his point, he wrapped his body around her and held her tight.
She laughed and snuggled into him. “Okay. Not right now, then.”
He kissed her ear and whispered into the soft shell, “No. Not now.”
Then to himself, he added: Not ever.
~
Lia woke with a start, her eyes seeing only the white pillow in front of her. At first she wasn’t sure where she was, but then she felt it all around her—the magic of the Incubi. Her Incubus. It was heady and luscious, yet grave and problematic. Her gaze shifted to the windows. The many windows that made up one entire wall. The sky was no longer pitch. And she was in Master Casworon Trevanion’s bed. In his arms…
Oh God.
Her heart lurched. She’d slept for hours. Too many hours. Momentarily alarmed, she reached up and touched her face. No scar. And no pain in her leg. She still had time. But by the look of the gunmetal sky, not much.
But how exactly did she manage this? Disentangling herself from him without waking him up? And she couldn’t wake him up. That would be the ultimate disaster. What if he asked her to stay—demanded she stay? Dawn would break as she was convincing him she had to go, and the truth would be revealed.
Just the thought of Cas seeing the real her had Lia moving. Swallowing hard, she slowly eased one heavy, muscular arm off her waist, then sort of crab-crawled the rest of the way off the bed.
The moment she stood up, her feet to the wood floor, she felt cold. Wrapped in Cas’s massive body, she’d been perfect. The male gave off so much delicious heat. He gave so much everything…and she would never feel it again after today. A lump formed in her throat. She pushed it away. There wasn’t time for that. Or a point to it. Days, weeks, months—that wasn’t what she had wished for. Just a night. One night to know him, to experience him—to hold on to him.
The ball gown was a bear to get on and fasten, but she managed, sans corset. Lord, if she had her way, she’d never wear one of those again. Or the shoes. Her feet were desperately sore and tired. Slipping on a pair of riding boots that had been outside the closet door, she gave the male in the bed one last look. He was so beautiful in the gray light, his strong features softened by his sleep. She had an urge to run her fingers through his hair one last time, but cursed her foolishness and left the room.
As she stole out of the greenhouse and hurried down what she hoped was the path to the castle, she wondered how far she would get before the spell would be broken. It was cold, and there were strange sounds all around her. She had traveled maybe a quarter of a mile before another sound—a male voice—met her ears.
“Lia!” he called.
Oh, God. She stopped and glanced around. Cas. Where is he? He sounds far away. He must be far away. Panic surged into her and she turned and started running. Toward the coming light. Toward the moors. Toward something she recognized. Something that would get her— “Lia!” he shouted again, his voice a demon’s call, fierce and demanding. “Lia!”
But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t see her.
She ran. Hard and fast until she could barely catch her breath. Onto the moors and deep into the gorse where she hid.
Until dawn broke.
And the spell with it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Shoes and a corset, my lord?” Pennice stood over Cas’s desk in his private office in Trevanion Castle. “That is very little to go on.”
Cas glared at the Watchman. He’d been up since dawn, riding the moors, looking for Lia, wondering why she would leave his bed—leave him. “You have her description,” he ground out, setting down his pen. “What she was wearing. That she was traveling from here. Are you opposed to a little detective work, Pennice? Because I would be happy to find your replacement, if that is the case.”
The Watchman didn’t answer. In fact, he was devoid of all panic or fear over losing his job. Instead, wonder glazed his expression. “Was everything to your liking at the greenhouse? Barring the fact that the female left…on the early side.”