Amid the Winter Snow

Wulf watched as Lily bit her lip.

She was a study in delicacy—the narrow features, the slender bones underneath thin skin, the fine hair that had slipped out of its confinement and tumbled to her shoulders in a gleaming fall of silk. Slender fingers wandered along the rim of her goblet, and the light from the fire in the brazier revealed a subtle play of shadows on her throat muscles as she swallowed.

He had known, and appreciated, many beautiful women in his life, but Lily was more than merely beautiful.

She was fascinating.

Unlike fashionable ladies who protected their skin, she still carried a tan from the summer’s sun, but that didn’t prevent him from seeing every fluctuation of betraying color in her cheeks.

She asked, wryly, “Too much?”

“Not at all. To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.” He set his goblet aside. “I’m beginning to understand why your prime minister went along with your coming with me.”

Someone who was not watching her as closely as he might not have noticed how she stilled at that.

But he did, and he waited for any confessions she might see fit to tell him.

Bending her face to her drink, she took another sip and asked, “What do you mean?”

He suppressed a smile. She used that thick, unwieldy goblet as if she could truly hide behind it.

The naivete of that was amusing. After every astute observation she had just made, she should realize nothing could hide her from him, not now that he had fixed his attention upon her.

He said, “You might be clumsy in social situations, but you more than make up for it by how observant you are.” He paused a beat, then deliberately switched to a lighter tone. “I think you should eat more chocolate.”

Sitting straight, her gaze flew wide, and the memory of laughter woke her face to that bright, spectacular something again. “No, thank you. I-I’m sure I shouldn’t… I probably shouldn’t have eaten that first piece, except you shoved it in my mouth, so what was I supposed to do? It’s too expensive to spit on your rugs.”

“I could do it again,” he said, bringing his voice down low, almost to a whisper. “I could press a piece right between your lips, and what would you do then?”

She met his gaze, her expression a delicious concoction of scandalized rejection, helpless desire, and that suppressed laughter that flitted like a white butterfly on an unpredictable wind.

An invisible connection throbbed between them, unexpectedly powerful and undeniable.

He had meant to tease her. He had not expected to find this small, awkward woman sexy.

Moving slowly so he didn’t frighten her, he pulled out of his lounging position and stood as he asked, still in that low voice, “Should I tell you what I see about you?”

The hint of laughter vanished. “I don’t think that would be a productive use of our time together, Commander.”

He was almost sorry to see her laughter go. Almost, except this consternation was even more delicious than anything else.

But her attempt at a more formal address was irritating. “Don’t call me Commander. Call me Wulf.” Scooping the opened bar of chocolate from the table, he strolled toward her. “What, in your opinion, would be a productive use of our time together?”

“Shouldn’t we continue talking about Calles, and Braugne, and what might be the best way to–to… to…” As he knelt in front of her, she leaned back in her seat, her widened gaze bouncing from his face to the chocolate he held in one hand. Coaxing the goblet out of her hands, he set it to one side.

“To what, Lily?” he asked, breaking a piece of chocolate off from the bar. “To strengthen relations between us?”

The tantalizing color rushed under her fine skin, and she turned scolding. “You should not be so–so…”

“I should not be so what, Lily?” Leaning toward her, he teased the plump edge of her bottom lip with the chocolate as he whispered, “I think you might know what I intend to do. Tell me yes or tell me no.”

As he looked deeply into her eyes, he could tell she had begun to wonder if he was still talking about the chocolate. She opened her mouth, those delicate, fine lips trembling on the verge of a response.

In that moment, he felt desire as keen as a sword thrust. Slipping the chocolate between her parted lips, he stroked it along her tongue. After hesitating, her lips closed on the candy and she sucked it.

He took a deep, quiet breath as his groin tightened. Oh yes. Now they had begun an entirely different conversation.

The tent flap lifted, and a tall, thin man wrapped in a cloak shouldered his way inside. It was Jada, carrying in the food tray.

At the intrusion, Lily jerked away from Wulf, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand. Smoothly, he straightened from his kneeling position. An experienced campaigner knew when to press forward and when to retreat.

Jada had frozen halfway in. His quick gaze bounced from Lily to Wulf, then to the laden tray he balanced.

“For the gods’ sake, man!” Wulf snapped. “Don’t stand there with the tent flap open. Come in!”

“Of course, my lord!” The other man jerked forward, and the tent flap fell behind him, blocking out the bitter cold. “I’ll just lay out the supper and be on my way.”

Wulf glanced back at Lily. She had snatched up a book and opened it, appearing to study the text intently while red color bloomed in her cheeks. He bit back a sudden urge to laugh.

He couldn’t remember when he had last wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one or when he had last been so entertained.

We’re not done with our discussion, he told her, his telepathic voice silken with intent.

She snapped the book shut and grabbed at another. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Commander.

Not ‘Commander.’ Wulf.

Oh fine—Wulf! I shouldn’t have eaten that second piece of chocolate either. I’m probably going to hell for it.

What are you talking about? He wanted to laugh. What is this hell you refer to, and why would you go there for eating chocolate?

She hunched her shoulders. The religions of the Elder Races don’t really have a hell, do they? It’s an Earth concept. It’s where you go when you’ve been very bad.

And how are you being very bad? Is it the politics of it? The appearance of support? All the evidence of any chocolate transgression has melted away. He couldn’t resist and strolled over to her.

Even though she never looked up from her book, her breathing quickened as he drew near. She was as aware of him as he was of her.

Coming up behind her, he bent to whisper in her ear, “Relax. I give you my word, no one need ever know what transpires in this tent.”

He watched her profile in the golden light, the way she licked her lips, the lacy shadow that lay on her cheeks from the curve of her dark eyelashes. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and he almost took her in his arms right then and there, despite the manservant behind them who lay the supper dishes out on the table.

Grace Draven, Thea Harrison, Elizabeth Hunter, Jeffe Kennedy's books