Free Her One Desire by Kimberly Killion

but noble.
    Her golden eyes opened and Broc saw a glimpse of her pain. She lay unmoving, as if she no longer possessed the strength to fight the battle warring inside her. She touched his freshly shaven jaw with warm fingertips. Her lips separated. “You are feeling well?”
    “Nay. I fear death is inside me and awaits my body’s surrender.” He nuzzled his cheek farther into her hand, a part of him seeking her affection.
    She smiled and blinked her eyes languidly. Another tear escaped the corner of her eye.
    “Why do ye cry in your sleep?”
    Her eyes sealed shut, hiding her secrets. “The same reason you laugh in yours, I s’pose. Tis the difference between the lives we have lived.”
    He took offense. “I dinnae laugh in my sleep.” “You do. I daresay you dreamed of someone who makes you happy. Who makes you laugh. Mayhap your wife?” Broc watched full pink lips move around her words, noting every curve, every crevice. She danced around his question the same as she had the night before, conniving her way out of answering by asking a pointed question of her own. “I have nay wife, ‘cept ye,” he jested, wanting to hear her bell-like laughter.
    Her eyes fluttered open. Did she have any idea how her feline languor turned her actions into a seduction? Her hair spilled over a small yellow pillow in glossy dark waves, and her lips pouted in a way that made his blood race through his veins. Her pink tongue darted out to lick those lips. “’Twas a ruse. I am no man’s wife.”
    “Mayhap ye were my wife in my dream.” He didn’t know why he teased her, why he flirted with a temptation he had no business wanting.
    The pulse in her temple kicked up a visible notch. Her fingers pressed lightly against his neck. “Dreams are for fools.” Broc inhaled.
    ‘Twas a mistake.
    Her scent intoxicated him—her lips, a baw hair from his, were too close to resist. He leaned in and brushed his bottom lip against her cheek. “Then I am a fool, for dreams are all I have.” She sucked air between her teeth. Her fingers curved a little farther around his neck.
    Why couldn’t he pull away? He damned himself for giving in to his desires. He cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb over her parted lips.
    The hand clasping her rosary flattened against her breast.
    God’s hooks! Everything inside him warned him to resist. He leaned lower still until the side of his nose touched hers. Their breath became one.
    A final glimpse into her flushed face told him she wouldn’t resist if he kissed her. Her rapid breathing ceased. She closed her eyes.
    Three quick knocks rapped against the door. “Maxwell?” Reality slapped his face like a February ice storm. He ripped himself away from Lady Ives.
    She sprang into a sitting position, her cheeks stained with color, her gaze looking at anything but him. “Maxwell? I have need to speak with ye.”
    Broc recognized John’s voice. “Enter.”
    John stepped in, but his gaze remained steadfast to the floor. His hand slicked wetness off his bald head and hooked around his neck. He glanced up at Lady Ives, yet said naught. She jumped to her feet, obviously as aware as Broc of John’s hesitation. “Where is Edlynn?” Panic already took hold of her voice.
    “Might I have a word with ye in private, m’lord?”
    “Nay!” Lady Ives yelled. “Where is she?”
    “I’m sorry, m’lady,” John said.
    She rushed to the window, her head shaking in denial of words not yet spoken.
    “What happened?” Broc asked.
    “The cot-house was burned to the ground. The barn, too.”
    Lady Ives cried out and caught herself on the window ledge.
    Broc’s hands formed fists in front of him. He selfishly left the auld woman behind, ignoring Lady Ives’s pleas to take her. He didn’t know what manner of enemy she attracted, but he had to find out if he had any chance of protecting her. “Ready the horses. We leave at once.” Broc gave John a nod of dismissal and then waited for the door to latch before