Authors: Nicole North
Laird of Darkness (9 page)
“Are you coming?”
Her suggestive voice stirred carnal longings within him. ’Twas the tone she used when she lay beside him in bed.
The great hall was so silent he scanned the room to see if everyone was asleep, or dead. Nay, their eyes were riveted upon him. Some of the men tried to hide their knowing grins.
“Carry on,” he told them, then followed Alana up the narrow steps.
He paused at the door to his chamber then slowly proceeded inside. She waited in the center of the floor, watching him expectantly.
“Why did you return, then?” He could not think clearly for the excitement humming through him.
“I will not marry Kinnon MacClaren. Instead, we have worked out an arrangement, a trade of sorts.”
This made no sense. Was it a ruse?
“Why would you not wish to marry MacClaren? Is he not handsome and wealthy, the perfect husband and laird?” he asked, more bitterly than he’d intended.
“I don’t love him. I love you!” she snapped.
Och.
Duncan frowned, searching her face. “What do you mean?”
“Do you not know what love is, Duncan?” she asked in a softer tone.
He closed his eyes, unsure what to say, think or feel. Maybe she was only an illusion conjured by his fevered mind. But nay, he opened his eyes and she was still there.
Tears glistening in her eyes, she moved forward and slipped her arm around his waist. “Love means I want you and I need you,” she whispered.
His breathing stopped and his chest tightened.
“I must be with you always.” She kissed his neck. “I want you to make love to me. I have an excited pounding in my chest when you are near. And when you are not near, I can think of naught but you. I want to kiss you and run my fingers over you. I want to hold you.” She embraced him tighter.
By the gods, was she speaking the truth? The hope alone made him wrap his arms around her.
“Do you feel that way?” she asked. The expectation in her lovely blue eyes as well as the mist of tears told him more than her words. He kissed her and received further confirmation. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness and her love. Aye, she was his.
When finally he pulled back to again examine her expression she asked, “Do you, Duncan? Can I stay with you?”
“Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Indeed.”
“You’ll never run away again to MacClaren?”
“Of course not. I love you, and only you.”
“And I love you, lass.” Joy rushing through him, he picked her up, carried her to the bed and laid her upon it. “I wanted naught but you to return to me, but I’d given you your freedom. You deserved what you wished for most.”
“The only thing I wish for is you! But what about the bow?”
“I don’t care about the bow. I only care about you, and having you by my side always.”
She kissed him and the rest of his thoughts fled, chased away by happiness, the first he had experienced in his life.
Nicole North’s erotic romance novellas have been described by reviewers as “exciting, high octane, captivating, scintillating, sinfully delicious and pure romance.” Her stories contain “heart and heat, killer love scenes, magic and extraordinary characters.” She has sold four stories to Red Sage Publishing.
Laird of Darkness
is her first novella for Carina Press. Nicole’s stories usually focus on her favorite things: Scotland, Highlanders and hot men in kilts. She and her husband live in the Southeastern U.S., but she wishes she lived in the Scottish Highlands at least half the year. As she puts it, Scotland is a beautiful, magical and enchanting place where anything seems possible. She teaches online workshops about various aspects of writing, including sexual tension and how to write great love scenes. Though she has a degree in psychology, writing romance is her first love.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9136-6
Copyright © 2011 by Nicole North
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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