Warrior Of Fire. Michelle Willingham

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      He reached for her hands and rubbed them between his palms. The heat of his skin felt so good, she closed her eyes, wishing for more. Then he bent down to her feet and did the same, massaging the frigid skin. She tried to stop herself from shivering but could not repress the instinct.

      ‘Do you want me to lie beside you for warmth?’ His offer meant no harm, but she questioned the wisdom of accepting his body against hers.

      ‘I don’t know.’ She met his gaze, uncertain of what he intended. This man unnerved her, and she worried about sleeping at his side.

      Raine didn’t seem to care about her wariness. Instead, he stretched out beside her, pulling her body against his. He pulled his cloak over both of them and did the same with the blanket. His gesture was only meant to help her get warm, but against her nape, she could feel his breath. A sudden rush of awareness slid over her, bringing goosebumps to her skin.

      He is not to be trusted, her mind warned. She knew that, even as she nestled closer to him. His presence was so dangerous to her good sense. Never before had she lain this close to a man. And especially not one who wanted her to act as a traitor.

      She was fascinated by the contrast between them. He was muscular, a large man with a great deal of strength, whereas she was weak and softer. The hard planes of his body offered a shelter she welcomed. Even wrapped within the coverlet, she could feel the warmth of his arms around her. For a moment, she imagined that this was what it was like to lie with a husband.

      A fragile twinge of regret caught her. At one time, she had dreamed of a life where she would be Lady of Carrickmeath with a husband and children. When her father had betrothed her to Rory Ó Connor, she’d been filled with terror and loathing. Brian had believed he was giving her a dream, not a nightmare.

      But she felt no loathing beside Raine de Garenne. Instead, his embrace was welcoming, granting a solace that made her grateful. She had needed the warmth of his body, and he had offered it to her. Though she should feel guilty about resting beside him, she didn’t. Raine was a stranger to her, a man who might escort her to Laochre Castle, and then it was doubtful she would see him again.

      She tried to close her eyes and find sleep, but the longer she remained in his arms, the more she grew aware of the heavy chain mail he wore. He could not possibly rest, wearing such armour.

      ‘You could...remove your armour if you want to sleep. It’s difficult in chain mail.’ She couldn’t imagine trying to sleep with the weight of the metal links pressing down.

      Raine didn’t answer at first, but then he sat up, pushing back the coverlet before he walked towards the fire.

      She never took her gaze from him as he turned to face her. Though he remained silent, she felt the censure in his stare. Out of courtesy, she closed her eyes. ‘I won’t look, I promise.’

      ‘Carice,’ he said quietly. ‘Would you prefer it if I left you to sleep alone?’ His stare held an intensity that made her uncertain of what he truly wanted. But it did seem that he was trying to determine whether his presence had made her uncomfortable. And that wasn’t it at all.

      ‘No,’ she answered. It made her feel safe to have him near. ‘I would rather have you stay. Unless...you do not wish to be near me.’

      ‘I will stay.’ His green eyes held her spellbound as he removed the leather corselet. ‘But trust that I will not harm you. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.’

      He set aside the corselet and reached for the chain mail hauberk. Though she knew she shouldn’t watch, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. His blond hair gleamed against the firelight, and he fixed his attention upon her as he removed the armour. Only a linen undertunic remained, but it was unlike those she had seen before. This one was worn, but made of a finer weave of cloth, like one a nobleman might wear. It hung open at his neck, and she spied angry, reddened flesh.

      ‘Are you hurt?’ She hadn’t realised it before. ‘Your skin looks as if it’s still healing.’

      His expression tightened, and he paused a moment before lifting away the undertunic. His torso was rigid, resembling the honed body of an ancient god. There were scars of battle, but the reddish markings near his throat spread over one shoulder. He turned his back to her, and she saw that the skin was red and mottled, as if he had suffered from burns.

      It hurt to look at the healed flesh, knowing how badly he must have suffered. ‘What happened to you?’

      ‘I was caught in the fire when this abbey burned. I nearly died.’ He still remained facing the hearth, not looking at her. ‘I saw the flames when my men were camped nearby,’ he said. ‘I alerted my commander, but he didn’t want to intervene. “It’s not our battle,” he told me.’ Raine rested his hands upon the stone wall, and the muscles in his back flexed. ‘I went there anyway, but I was too late to stop the raiders.’

      Carice was glad to hear that he hadn’t been responsible for the men’s deaths. But she sympathised with him, imagining what he must have endured. ‘And you were trapped in the fire?’

      He turned back and nodded. ‘One of the monks helped me escape. Then he died from the smoke. He couldn’t breathe.’ Raine’s voice was cool, as if it didn’t matter. But beneath his expression, she sensed guilt and regret.

      ‘Why did you return?’

      ‘After my wounds healed, I received permission to bury them. I do not think the bishop was notified, for the bodies were rotting when I arrived. But soon, they will come to rebuild this place.’

      She couldn’t suppress a shudder, but she now understood why he’d come back. It was the right thing to do. His actions made her wonder more about this man and who he truly was. He was keeping so many secrets, it was difficult to understand him. ‘And now? After you take me to the MacEgans, where will you go?’

      He lifted up the linen undertunic and donned it once more, setting the chain mail aside upon a chair. ‘I will return to the king’s men and my commander.’ He didn’t offer anything further but went to sit upon the foot of the bed.

      ‘What of your family?’

      There was a trace of unrest that passed over his face. ‘Go to sleep, chérie. I have no wish to speak of them now.’ He stretched out beside her, on top of the coverlet. She remained facing the fire, acutely conscious of his presence.

      But she found it impossible to sleep with him so near.

Chapter Three

      Being so close to this woman was slowly killing him. Carice’s scent allured him, tempting him to hold her close as he had earlier. She wasn’t speaking, and he knew she was only feigning sleep.

      And yet, the raw need to touch her was pushing away his good sense. He might claim that he was only intending to warm her, but the truth was, he longed to hold this woman. She was innocent, utterly fragile, like a newly-opened blossom.

      He flipped back the coverlet and slid beneath it, well aware that he should not be sharing a bed with her. Though they were alone, with no one to cast blame, he understood how dangerous this was. Already he had tasted her lips, and he knew how soft and yielding they were. He wanted to kiss her again, but it would only heighten the temptation.

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