Eternal Lover. Lynsay Sands

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      Alpin watched the firelight caress Sophie’s skin as she stood before the fire and washed herself. Each time she dampened the rag in the bowl of water and ran it over her skin, he felt desire tauten his insides. She was so beautiful, so graceful, it made him ache. He was not blind to the bruises upon her skin, however, and had to fight back a strong urge to hunt Sir Ranald down and kill him.

      That rage and bloodlust had still held him firmly in its grip when he had first brought her into his room. Alpin could vaguely recall stripping them both and climbing into his bed with her in his arms. He had held her while she had wept. At some point during that emotional storm, she had fallen asleep. Still holding her close, he, too, had dozed, waking when she had slipped from his arms. And, despite the fact that he wanted her back in his arms, he was thoroughly enjoying the view.

      Sophie blushed when she dried herself, turned to go back to bed, and caught Alpin watching her. She hurried to the side of the bed, gasping with surprise when he suddenly moved, grabbed her, and pulled her into his arms. The man could move with astonishing speed, she thought, as he tucked the bedcovers over them both. She wrapped her arms around him as he nuzzled her neck.

      “I can still smell him,” Alpin muttered, then tightened his hold on her when she tried to move away. “Stay.”

      “But if the smell troubles you,” she began even as she relaxed in his arms.

      “It but restirs the urge to tear him apart.”

      “He didnae, er, finish.”

      “I ken it. I fear I would be able to smell that, too, and that would stir a rage I couldnae control.”

      “Oh. Do ye ken, I think having such a keen sense of smell must be a burden at times. Some of the scents wafting through the air arenae verra pleasing.”

      He smiled against her neck, then lightly nipped the life-giving vein he pressed his lips against. There was a dark part of him that hungered for a taste of what pulsed through that vein, but he did not fear it. He knew that, as long as he retained even the smallest scrap of sanity, he would not hurt Sophie. She was his sunlight, that bright warmth he so yearned to enjoy again, but which would only bring him death now. She was the flowers that no longer grew in his shadowed world, the laughter that so rarely echoed in the halls of Nochdaidh, and the hope they had all lost but yearned to regain. And, he realized, she could reach the man still inside of him even at the height of his bloodlust.

      “I am sorry I wept all over ye,” Sophie murmured. “’Tis odd, for, whilst that fool was attacking me, I was mostly furious. Then, ye came, and I was safe, yet I wept.”

      “He hurt you.” Alpin raised himself up on one elbow and began to gently touch each bruise upon her silken skin. “And, ’tisnae how one acts after the danger has passed that matters. ’Tisnae unknown for men to collapse, trembling and terrified, after the battle is done. I heard ye call to me,” he said quietly as he lightly kissed a bruise upon her throat. “In my mind I heard ye call my name.”

      “How wondrous strange. I did call your name—inside my head. Weel, our families have been bound together by Rona’s curse for o’er four hundred years. Mayhap that has something to do with it.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close as he kissed the bruises upon her breasts. “They dinnae hurt,” she said when he frowned at a bruise as he traced its shape with his long fingers.

      “The bastard left his mark upon your skin.”

      Sophie placed her hands on either side of his head, turned his face up to hers, and brushed a kiss over his mouth. “So СКАЧАТЬ