Free The Queen of Swords: A Paranormal Tale of Undying Love by Nina Mason Page B

which were twisting in her lap. What might he say to make her wish him far away?
    “Have you...killed people?”
    “ Only two.” He took a breath, still hovering over her like a buzzard. “Outside of war.”
    Her heart jolted when his arm shot out, but he only reached for her cigarettes. As he lit one, she wondered about the war he’d mentioned. There had been many during his lifetime. In which had he fought? She wanted to know, but at this moment was far more interested in the murders he’d committed off the battlefield.
    “ Who’d you kill and why?”
    The question made him visibly tense. “The first was”—he stopped to heave a sigh—“well, let’s just say I’ll always regret it and leave it at that, eh?”
    She blinked at him, unsure if she should let it go. Deciding she would for now, she asked, “What about the second?”
    “That was deliberate .” His voice took on a hard edge. “And believe me, that blackheart got what he deserved.”
    Taking a pull on his cigarette, he drew the smoke deeply into his lungs before blowing it out through his nose. His eyes brushed over her, leaving tingles in their wake. She wanted him so badly, she could hardly think straight. Being under her control, he couldn’t refuse her if she commanded him to take her. Still, she’d rather wait and let things develop organically.
    Turning abruptly, he walked back to the window. Her gaze roamed over his backside. His hands were clasped over his well-shaped seat, flattered by the cut of his trousers. His shirt fit well too, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. Longing’s fire brought her blood to a boil as she imagined him for a moment without those finely tailored garments.
    “Shall I go on?”
    She licked her lips and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “By all means.”
    He got quiet as if ordering his thoughts. Several moments later, he began in a low voice. “I came into this life at Druimdeurfait, on the Black Isle, which is neither black nor an island, but that’s neither here nor there. As I said, my birth took place in the wee hours of a Friday, a time thought to be unlucky.” He tilted back his head to look at the ceiling. “I’ve often wondered if my caul was meant to cancel out my bad luck, but”—he ran a hand across his scalp as if searching for the missing membrane—“as it was sold, I shall never know.”
    He was beside the bed so quickly she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes shot to his long-fingered hand as he crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray. She imagined it between her legs doing the things she’d only ever done to herself. As desire shivered through her, he picked up the box of cigarettes and removed another.
    “You smoke a lot,” she said, handing him the lighter. “But then, it’s not as if you’ll get cancer or anything, I suppose.”
    “ Exactly.” He lit up. “On top of which, the nicotine helps curb my appetites.”
    A nother shiver went through her as he said appetites . His inflection told her he hungered for more than blood. So why was he chain-smoking? The question hovered on her lips, but she licked it away. “Why was it sold? Your caul, I mean.”
    “To cover my father’s gambling debts .” He dropped her lighter on the table with a clack. He met her gaze with haunted eyes and let out a short, bitter laugh. “I suppose you could say the sins of the father were visited upon the son. With regard both to the caul and Lord Fitzgerald.”
    The gears in her head turned like clockworks. “Did your father owe Fitzgerald money? Was that the reason he cursed you?”
    Blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, he shifted his gaze to the glowing cigarette in his hand. “I want to relay the events as they unfolded. So you’ll understand how it all came to pass.” Turning away, he added, “Though, to tell the truth, I’m not sure I understand it myself.”
    Walking back to the window, he said nothing more for the longest time. She watched