Page 2 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Yearning sharpened to urgent need. Soon, she’d be forever bound to an older lord. Why not take what she wanted now?

Again, the breeze blew strands of her hair into her eyes. Before she could brush them away, Pitt’s fingers were there, sweeping them aside and tucking them, so gently, behind her ear. His puzzled gaze searched hers.

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Oh, I am.”

“If you do not want to be alone with me—”

“I do. I—”

Take the chance!

She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his.

He groaned, a sound of pleasure. His arms locked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Her hands curled into the front of his cloak as she gave into the maelstrom of desire inside her.

The looming stones around them faded in focus. All she knew, tasted, sensed, was Pitt.

This is what she wanted every day for the rest of her life. His kiss, his embrace, held the power to meld all the tangled feelings inside her into one goal: to be his.

The fire within her burned hotter.

Pitt sighed against her lips. His kisses deepened, and he nudged even closer, coaxing her to move backward, until her back pressed against the standing stone behind her. As she melted against the monolith, his fingers sank into her hair. He held her head still, while he kept her against the cool stone with his kisses and his body.

Kissing him back with all the passion in her soul, she vowed to remember forever this glorious moment. No one—not even her wedded husband—could ever wrest it from her.

She tasted sweet, perfect, and of every dream he’d ever imagined.

Pitt shuddered as the hunger within him burned hotter. Deepening the kiss, he caught her quick intake of breath, felt her quiver against him, and he sighed again, the sound blending into a growl.

She stilled, clearly unsure. Of course, being a well-bred lady, she had no knowledge of carnal passion. She was still a virgin, while he was not. He paused, his mouth hovering over hers, and their breaths mingled. Blood pounded in his veins. His fingers curled against the curve of her waist; he remembered the silkiness of her gown when he’d touched her in the stairwell, and how the fabric had held the heat of her body. With a silent oath, he drew his arm away and pressed his palm to the weathered stone behind her, the coldness and rough texture drawing his thoughts from inappropriate cravings.

“Pitt,” she whispered.

He looked down into her beautiful green eyes, softened with desire. “Aye?” Sunlight shimmered on her auburn-colored hair and encircled her head like a crown of light.

“Kiss me…like before.”

Anguish threaded into her voice. An answering ache gripped his heart, a wish for much more between them than a few stolen kisses, but she’d told him weeks ago of her betrothal. Her fate couldn’t be changed, no matter how much they wanted it to be.

Here in this ancient place, though, she was his. He could imagine, in this spot where countless lovers must have kissed before, that she belonged to him—and always would. He lowered his mouth to hers again. As she arched against him and clung to him, he swept his tongue into her mouth. Today, he’d leave his mark upon her heart; his invisible claim that if things had been different, or ever could be different, they’d be together forever.

“Pitt,” she half-whispered, half-moaned.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her with all of the passion raging within him. As their lips brushed and molded together, he silently told her that he loved her. He always would. No other man would ever cherish her as sincerely and deeply he did.

As she wilted against him, voices carried on the wind.

“Aye, ’tis true,” a man said in a raised voice. “Our mates’ll deny it, but ’tis the truth.”

The guards.

Pitt broke the kiss. Blythe swayed toward him; he caught her arms, steadying her.

Her expression dazed, her cheeks flushed and strands of her hair caught on the stone behind her, she stared at him. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

“Right yourself,” he murmured.