The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “Trying to find some peace,” he replied, then added, “without much success.”

  His rudeness took her aback. As did his anger. It seemed coiled in him like a snake, ready to strike.

  He took another long drink. “So unless you’d care to bring me more wine, you’ll leave me be.”

  Determined not to be intimidated, she forced herself to take a few steps into the lion’s den. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound bereft of humor. “There isn’t enough.”

  She’d never seen him like this. He’d always seemed too controlled to lose himself in drink. “What’s wrong, Patrick? What is bothering you?”

  He turned away from her, gazing stonily into the smoldering fire, his jaw locked and unyielding in profile. “Return to your guests, my lady. I’m not fit for civilized company right now.”

  There was something behind his words, but she couldn’t hazard a guess. Her instincts told her to leave, but instead she moved closer. Close enough to reach out and put her hand on his arm. It felt as yielding as stone under her fingertips. “Is it your wound?” she asked gently.

  He wrenched away as if her touch had scalded him. “My wound is fine,” he growled.

  She swallowed the hot ball of hurt. Why was he acting like this? “Then what is it? I know something is wrong.” His eyes met hers, dark and impenetrable. “Won’t you tell me?” she implored.

  His hand clenched the flagon until his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t say a word.

  Something was eating away at him, causing him pain. There could be only one explanation. Her heart went out to him, her only thought to try to ease his suffering. “Is it your wife? You must miss her terribly. Is there anything I can do?”

  He muttered a crude curse and tossed the flagon into the fire, the jar shattering and claret spraying before bursting into a web of crimson flames. He was out of the chair and on her before she could react. He grabbed her arms, shaking her with the force of his anger. “God damn you, Elizabeth, always so bloody selfless! Trying to take care of everyone around you. Don’t think to try to fix me. There are some things beyond even your considerable skills.”

  She shrank back instinctively from the vitriol; he’d never talked to her like this. Yet she realized this was the anger she’d sensed in him, lurking under the surface. The part of him he’d always kept hidden. Without the façade, she saw him for what he truly was: a man consumed by demons she couldn’t begin to fathom.

  But it didn’t explain why all this rage was directed at her. He was looking at her as if he hated her. What had she done to provoke him so?

  She’d thought …

  Fool. She’d thought he cared for her.

  Tears burned behind her eyes. “I was only trying to help. I just wanted to know what was wrong.”

  Something in his gaze seemed to snap.

  She stepped back instinctively, but he caught her to him in his iron grasp, the hard-muscled arms closing around her like a vise. Her breath caught in surprise. For the first time, she felt the force of his strength. He could crush her without even trying.

  “You want to know what’s wrong?” He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. She could feel the angry pounding of his heart through the soft leather of his jerkin. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I want you so bad, I can’t think straight. My body is on fire. I can’t look at you without wanting to pull you into my arms. I can’t touch you without thinking of running my hands all over you.” Her eyes widened. The raw desire in his gaze shocked her. Never had she thought herself capable of driving a man to such extreme passion. “But that is only half the problem.” His eyes had narrowed to slits, the lines around his mouth etched white. The dark stubble of his beard cast an ominous shadow along his hard, square jaw.

  Whatever the problem, it didn’t bode well for her. She tried to pull away, for the first time truly frightened, but he wouldn’t let her go. His arms were like steel.

  “You want to know what’s really wrong, Elizabeth?” His face was only inches from hers. “I saw you kiss him.” He spoke each word with damning precision.

  She gasped. He saw us. He was angry with her because he was jealous. But it was the intensity that surprised her. One chaste kiss had driven him to the edge. “It was nothing,” she said softly, trying to soothe his anger.

  “Nothing?” He looked as though he wanted to shake her. “He asked you to marry him, didn’t he?”

  She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

  He swore and finally released her, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “God, you are actually considering him, aren’t you?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  His fiery gaze pinned her. “Because you want me.”

  His flat tone infuriated her. “Wanting you isn’t the issue.” His eyes flashed, but she pressed on, heedless of the danger, needing to know his intentions. “If that is all that is between us—”

  “Is that what you think?” His eyes locked on hers, his expression tight and fierce but brutally exposed. She could see the warning tic at his jaw and felt his body shudder with anger. “Did you think I would take you and not marry you? I might be only a guardsman, but I’m not without honor.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  “Didn’t you?” He gave her a piercing look. “I’ve no right, but I want you to be my wife more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. And the thought of you marrying him is tearing me apart.”

  Her heart slammed into her chest at the dark emotion in his voice. But before she could react, his mouth was on hers, claiming her, possessing her, giving proof to his words.

  The dam had broken. All the pent-up anger, the pent-up emotion, the pent-up desire, rushed free with the force of a tidal wave, crashing over her and pulling her into the dark whirlpool of passion. Where the only thing she could think of was kissing him and drowning in sensation.

  His mouth devoured hers with a hunger that could not be denied. As if she were the only one for him and he for her. As if he could claim her forever with the force of this one kiss.

  It was a kiss not to persuade, but to compel.

  She opened her mouth and he groaned, sliding his hand through her hair, cupping her head to bring her more firmly against him. And then his tongue was inside her, twining, demanding, urging her deeper and deeper. Harder and faster. Until his breath became her own.

  The taste of him filled her. The wine. The spice. The heady masculine essence of him permeated her bones.

  She melted against him, wanting to get closer, the power of his body a potent aphrodisiac. He was so tall and strong—all thick, heavy muscle and long, powerful limbs. A warrior. A protector. In his arms, she knew that nothing would ever harm her.

  She trusted him. Completely.

  The fierce pounding of his heart against hers drove her on. The rough stubble of his jaw scratched the tender skin around her mouth, but she didn’t care. Her nipples hardened against his chest. His hand slipped around her bottom, lifting her to him.

  She gasped, feeling the thick column wedged against her, and then moaned. Her body clenched hot with desire.

  She kissed him with all of the emotion that she could not yet put words to. Kissed him with all she had, wanting it never to stop.

  Patrick was mindless with lust, his hunger insatiable. The claret had dulled his reason. All he could think of was touching her, sinking into the heat, and making her his.

  It was what she wanted, too. He knew it in the way her body went limp in his arms in sweetest surrender. She dissolved against him, warm and syrupy.

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the large wooden table, laying her back so that her hips rested just on the edge. His breathing was as heavy as the pounding of his heart as his gaze swept over her flushed cheeks, her pink lips softly parted, her trusting blue eyes hazy with desire. Her skirts were tangled in glorious disarray, revealing part of one slim, shapely leg.

  So beautif