Page 70 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Ash chuckled. “Not telling.”

Blythe drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I hope ’tis a nice surprise—not some Christmas trickery the men plotted together whilst in the solar.”

Still holding Ash’s hand, Rosetta winked. “I can try to find out.”

Envy stirred again as Ash gazed down into Rosetta’s upturned face and kissed her again.

Blythe’s gaze drifted back to Pitt and Clarine. The girl nodded. Her face lit with excitement, she bounced up and down several times before hurrying away.

Pitt rose. His head turned, and his gaze, bold with intent, locked with Blythe’s.

Her breath caught. Such possessive resolve gleamed in his eyes. His lips turned up in a grin before he strode toward her and stretched out his hand. As though her body reacted of its own will, she rose to meet him.

“Care to take a walk?”

“I would like that.”

“Fetch your cloak,” Pitt said. “I will meet you back here.”

Several moments later, they left the hall. Linking his hand through hers, Pitt led her through torch lit passageways until they stepped through a doorway onto the parapet. Twilight darkened the sky, and the iciness of the breeze promised another cold night.

Guards farther down looked their way and then moved on a short distance.

Drawing her to the edge of the battlement, Pitt stared out toward the ancient stone circle. She leaned against a nearby merlon while her gaze traveled over his features. Love bloomed within her; love deep, rich, and true. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him, touch him, show him just how intensely she needed him; to rejoice in them being alive after the danger last night. But, she needed to know that for him, the peril had truly ended.

“You have resolved all with Lord Montgomery?”

“I have.” He glanced at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and relief. “I could not have asked for a better outcome.”

“I am glad.” A note in his voice, though, told her not all had been settled.

“There is but one matter—mayhap the most important one of all—to resolve.”

“What matter is that?”

A smile ticked up the corner of his mouth. “For that answer, you will have to wait.”

She frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged, but his roguish smile broadened.

“Now you are tormenting me.”

His gaze heated. “I would not torment you on this battlement. In your chamber, though….”

A hot shiver raced through her. “You are wicked.”

“I am.” He closed the distance between them, and his leather-gloved finger trailed down her cheek. “I cannot deny, milady, that you bring out the wickedness in me.”

And you, milord, bring it out in me.

Before she could speak, though, his lips, cooled by the night air, covered hers. A moan welled in her throat, and her mouth opened beneath his. She matched each of his kisses with equal fervor. How she loved him; loved him as an outlaw, hero, tender lover, father, first love—

“You were correct,” he whispered against her mouth, “when you said ’twould be all right.”

“This matter, then, that I cannot yet hear about…?”

He laughed softly. “As I said, you must wait.”