Free The Witch and The Warrior by Karyn Monk

her shoulders, the delicate cage of her ribs. And then he laid his palm against the lush swell of her breast and groaned, for he could not remember ever touching anything so soft. It had been four years since he had felt the least flicker of desire, and the lust surging through him in that moment was beyond measure. He wanted to take this witch now, here in the forest, to lay her down on a bed of fragrant pine and bury himself deep inside her, to lose himself to her softness and heat, without even taking the time to remove her gown. His desire was staggering, it stripped him of his ability to think, until he was aware of nothing but the blaze devouring him, and the certainty that only this mysterious smoke- and heather-scented woman could slake his need. He could not remember a moment in which he had been so overwhelmingly possessed, not even with Flora, though there had been many a time when he had spread his plaid over a mattress of ferns and pleasured her in the golden warmth of sunlight. But that was a lifetime ago, when she had been fit and glowing with laughter and love, and he had laid his face against the creamy softness of her breasts and vowed with all his heart and soul that he would never love another.
    Shame sliced through him, dousing his ardor. He released his hold on Gwendolyn and stepped back, appalled by his behavior.
    â€œForgive me,” he murmured roughly, not certain whether he was asking for her forgiveness or Flora’s.
    Gwendolyn regarded him blankly, bewildered by his abrupt change in manner. A moment ago he had been powerful, aroused, a great laird who was thoroughly in control and who was using that control to spin the same veil of desire over her. Yet now he seemed distant, almost sad. The grim set of his mouth told her he was still angry. But she sensed his fury was no longer directed at her.
    â€œMacDunn!” called Brodick from the distance. “Did you find her?”
    â€œAye.” Alex didn’t take his eyes off Gwendolyn. “We’re over here. Tell Ned to come and fetch her.”
    Gwendolyn was staring at him in confusion. Ripples of sunlight and shadow were playing over her, glossing the tangled mass of her black hair. Her gray eyes were wide and pensive, her cheeks and lips flushed from the heat of his kiss. In that moment, standing amid the green and gold light of the forest, she seemed more mythical creature than flesh-and-blood woman.
    â€œYou will abandon this absurd notion of escape,” he commanded tautly, resisting the impulse to lay his hand against her cheek and feel its softness. He turned and moved toward his horse, anxious to have distance between them. “Next time,” he continued, hoisting himself into his saddle, “I may just leave you for either Robert or the wild boars to find.”
    With that he galloped away, leaving Gwendolyn alone with the slain boar.

    I’m sorry.
    He lay back and contemplated the sparkling cape of night, only vaguely aware that the ground was damp and the air unseasonably cold. The physical discomforts of the body had never bothered him much, and tonight he was far too preoccupied to give them any notice whatsoever. Flora’s star was smaller this evening, and the light it cast was sad and flat. At first Alex had had trouble finding it amid all the others. He had wondered if she was so injured by his betrayal that she would not show herself to him at all. If so, he could not blame her. But long after the camp rumbled with the sounds of sleep, he finally found a pale glimmer in a distant corner of the sky. Of course he knew Flora’s spirit did not actually dwell within that shimmering silver orb.
    Her soul was all around him, watching over him as he tried his damnedest to live out the rest of his shattered existence without her.
    The night his fragile wife finally died, Alex had stumbled blindly into the courtyard and raged at God, cursing him for stealing away the woman who meant more to him than