Lady Wyneth was hardly aware as Lord Alvi led her farther into a shroud of evergreens, out of sight. He took her face in his hands and swiped the tears as they fell. His face was a mixture of confusion and alarm.
High seas, she was crying in front of a hunter. A stranger. A foreign lord.
“I—I’m sorry.” Wyneth stepped back, out of his grasp, and his bare arms fell to his sides. She had no idea why she felt the sudden urge to tell him everything. Perhaps his kindness. Perhaps to kill his interest in her. What man would find interest in a woman with a shattered heart?
“The beast killed my betrothed.” Her voice was thick. She wiped the last bit of moisture from her eyes and stood taller. “I saw it attack. We were together on the docks. I fled, swimming across the creek. I—I left him.”
Lief’s handsome face slackened. “That was you? You were engaged to the captain?”
No more tears. Wyneth tightened her jaw and nodded.
Understanding crossed his face. “So you’ve seen the beast?”
A flash of teeth and claws and blood flashed through Wyneth’s mind’s eye and she rocked back on her heels.
“Of course . . .” He moved toward her, and she stepped back, causing him to tilt his head to the side. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”
She swallowed. “Why didn’t it come for me in the water? It could have killed us both.”
There were times, especially during the first couple weeks, when she wished she were dead too. She thought death might have been better than to feel the heartache anew each morn when she woke. Breckon had been her life and her future. He’d been there as her mind-set changed from that of a girl to a woman, and he’d loved her every minute, patiently.
“There are many things we don’t understand about the beast and its motives,” Lief said quietly. “But the fates kept you alive for a reason. You have a life to live still, Lady Wyneth.”
Wyneth allowed herself a look at him.
Breckon had been polished. Lean. His hair had been short, and he was polite to a fault. Lord Lief Alvi was a contrast to all of that. A rogue. Wild waves of blond hair rested on his shoulders. A vest of fur fitted against his massive chest, his shoulders and arms of muscle jutting out.
It felt wrong, wrong, to look upon another man this way. Especially a man who was in the running for her cousin’s hand in marriage. Surely she was losing her mind.
“I must go.”
In a move like a dance, Wyneth turned away, only to feel the warmth of his grip around her wrist, spinning her back around, pulling her with a silent command right into that solid chest and those strong arms she’d just been admiring. Without a single word, Lord Alvi took Wyneth’s mouth with his own, practically lifting her off her feet as his hands circled her waist and tugged her body against his.
She heard herself make a noise of surprise which morphed into moan at the closeness and warmth, the scent of clean masculinity. For a long moment she shut off her mind, letting her senses have full control. Lief’s hunger for her lips was like nothing she’d experienced before. He was not careful, nor did he bother with niceties as she was accustomed to. He took complete ownership, crushing her body to his in a way that made her long for more.
All at once, the two names closest to her heart were shouted inside her mind.
Breckon! Aerity!
Lady Wyneth pushed against his wide chest, and he let her go. She struggled for air. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smiled.
“You—we can never do that again,” Wyneth said. Her voice was a shaky jumble of want and need and regret.
“Why not?” His head cocked in that curious way again.
“Why not?” she repeated back at him in disbelief.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you.”
Wyneth’s blood raced at the flattery of hearing that from a man like him. But it wasn’t as simple as he was making it out to be. “I only just finished telling you I’ve lost the man I was to marry. My heart . . . still aches.”
He appeared crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Lady Wyneth. I thought it might help.”
Oh, the logic of a man, Wyneth thought. “What’s more, Lord Alvi, if you kill the beast you’ll be granted the hand of my cousin. My best friend!”
Wyneth was still in shock that he’d kissed her, this man she scarcely knew, and that she’d been so completely willing. Being so near him, she felt the lingering lust burning under her skin, and the churn of guilt in her gut. It was the worst kind of situation. Couldn’t he see that?
Apparently not, based on his easy smile. “Life is for living, Lady Wyneth. You needn’t feel guilty or worried. Fate will intervene to make things right, when necessary. I hope to see you this evening before the hunt.” He brought a massive hand to her hair and let his palm and fingers stroke a lone curl.
Her chest was still heaving as he walked away.