Prince of Desire (2 page)

As soon as he had said his name, she felt a tremor run through her, though it wasn't from terror. It was almost like…recognition.
 
Impossible
.
 
Or was it?
 
Her heart still pounded, but it wasn’t from fear.
 
It was from…Lucian.

Good manners or not, after her attack, she wasn't eager to trust anyone. “A stranger to our small village?
 
Where do you hail from?”

“A land far from here.”

“I hear your brogue.
 
You’re Scottish.”

A sliver of moonlight caught his grin.
 
“Oh, aye.”

There was nothing left to ask him other than to leave, but she knew he wasn't about to do that. She had no weapon. Her only defense was the forest, and though he was on foot now, he could mount his great horse and catch her before she was able to sufficiently use the forest to her advantage.

“Let me take you home,” he said and took a step toward her, his hand outstretched.

Isabelle didn't move. She had seen firsthand how quick and deadly he was with his sword and body. He was a dangerous man, a stranger, and if she wasn't careful, she might find that she had stepped from a group of attackers to one man who could do more damage than the four before him.

Though she could see part of his face from the light of the moon, the smile did not deter the power emanating from him. Was he her savior or her demise? Her decision could well cost her her life.

In response to her silence, he reached down and pulled a dagger from his boot. “Here,” he said as he handed it to her hilt first. “Take this. If I do anything that you doona agree with, use it.”

Only a fool would refuse a weapon, and Isabelle wasn't a fool. She reached out and grasped the dagger. The blade wouldn't do much damage, but it was a weapon and could very well give her the chance she needed if she had to escape.
 

“Good. Now, since you have had such a horrible night, why not allow me to escort you home? You may ride Elad, and I shall walk,” he said before she could issue a retort.

Isabelle looked around her. The men were slowly scurrying away, but who was to say they wouldn't return with reinforcements. She wanted to be away from there and in the shelter of her home. Safety was something she had always taken for granted in her small village. Never again would she assume she was safe. It was just another reason she hated living alone.
 

As always, whenever she thought of being alone, she thought of her grandparents and how much she missed them. She was tired of the loneliness, but even she knew that was all she had to look forward to for the rest of her life. The village was small, too small sometimes, for the few men to notice someone like her.

Though she knew she shouldn't trust the dark stranger, he pulled at her with invisible fingers. It was as if her body knew what her brain did not.

To her surprise she found herself saying, “All right.” She moved away from the safety of the tree to the horse and stared up at its great height.
 

“Let me help,” Lucian said just before his hands grasped her waist.

Isabelle barely had time to gasp before she was perched on top of the horse that had the gall to turn and look at her as if she were a nasty fly bothering him.
 

She was given no time to do anything but hold on as Lucian grabbed the horse's bridle and began to walk. Tension had her muscles wound tight. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn't, she became even more on edge.
 
Who was this mysterious Lucian Sinclair?
 
And why had he been in the village?

The sounds of the night echoed around them as the moon followed their path. She couldn’t take her eyes from him.
 
His clothes were as dark as the night, and his silence intrigued her.
 
Lucian didn't seem to mind the darkness or the sounds as he leisurely walked down the path after she directed him which way to go.

Once more she decided to question his origins. “Where exactly do you hail from?”
 

“Deep in the Highlands.”

Isabelle snorted, very unladylike, but some things called for a snort. Like vague answers. “Which clan do you hail from?”

For a moment, he didn't answer. He stopped and turned toward her. “I doona belong to a clan.”

She studied him silently. It was apparent by his fine clothing and speech that he was of noble birth. His brogue wasn't as deep as many Scotsmen, but it was there. How she longed to see his face. “Everyone in the Highlands belongs to a clan.”

He shrugged and gave her another smile before he patted Elad's great neck and resumed walking. By the way he evaded her question, she realized he wasn't likely to tell her anything more, which made her wonder at her sanity in allowing him to accompany her home.

But every time she thought of sliding to the ground and running away, she couldn’t do it.
 
Something about Lucian held her tightly, as if urging her to be patient.
 
Patience wasn’t a virtue, yet she couldn’t seem to leave him.

They continued in silence, the clopping of the horse's hooves on the dirt road adding to the night's sounds. By the time they reached Isabelle's cottage, she was anxious to be rid of him and the fear he instilled.
 

Fear and thrilling excitement.

She hadn’t thought her life dull until she’d met him.
 
In just a few minutes time he brought into focus how gloomy her life was.
 
He was like a full moon on a cloudless night, lighting up everything in the gray.

Shut up, she silently told herself. Just because she lived a boring life didn't mean she wanted Lucian's kind of excitement.

How do you know? You might like it.

Isabelle seriously doubted her sanity. Was it a sign that she had lived too long alone that she talked to herself? And argued with herself?

In all her years of working at the tavern, she had never feared living alone. In one night, that had changed. It would always be in the back of her mind that someone could lay in wait for her, and it would give Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald more reason to push her to move into town.

At least if she lived over the tavern she would have the MacDonalds to talk to, which just might save her sanity. But, in truth, she didn't wish to live over the tavern. She liked her home. Mostly because it was the only home she had ever known, but also because she had known love within its walls.
 

Her grandparents had given her all they had and worried endlessly of what would become of her once they were gone. Isabelle had never fretted much, thinking she had plenty of time before she had such a decision to make. And then the fever struck and taken her grandparents within days of each other.

They reached her cottage, and as always, she felt a pang at finding no candle burning in the window waiting for her as her grandmother had used to do.
 
Darkness, stillness awaited her.
 
A tremor of something profound and intense ran through her as she found Lucian staring at her.

Before she could dismount, he was there to help her. He set her on her feet and his hands lingered a heartbeat before he took a step back.
 
Isabelle drew in a shaky breath at his nearness. She tried to see more of his face, but, with his back to the moon, only shadows met her gaze.

By the way he patiently waited, she knew he wanted something. “Would you like to water your horse?”
 

He shook his head.

“Do you need oats for your mount?”

Again, he shook his head.

She wasn't about to ask him to come inside. Regardless of the fact he had saved her life, he was a stranger, dangerous and unknown to her.
 

“Then what is it you need?” she asked, trying to keep the agitation from her voice.

“Your name.”

She swallowed. It was a small thing he asked, but for some reason, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know. She glanced at the ground between them before raising her eyes back to him.
 
Though his gaze was hidden in the shadows, she felt it on her, warm and penetrating.
 
She caught a glimpse of a strong jaw and square chin, but that’s all the moonlight allowed her to see.

How could she couldn’t deny him such a simple request.
 
And she feared what else he might ask of her, because apparently she couldn’t tell him no.

“Isabelle.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” She couldn't believe the words even as they left her mouth. Hadn't she just told herself she wasn't going to invite him in? Yet, here she was doing just that.

Excitement. Admit you want it.

A smile pulled at his lips, and she had the urge to see what he looked like in the light of day.

“Another time,” he answered, his deep timbre raising chills along her skin. “Until next we meet,” he said and vaulted onto his mount.

Isabelle bit her lip as she watched him ride away. She didn't understand why she wished he had stayed.

“He's a stranger,” she murmured as she walked into her dark cottage.

But an exciting stranger.

Chapter Two

Lucian ground his teeth together. It had taken every ounce of control he had to walk away from Isabelle last eve. He had wanted to stay and tell her everything, but that would have frightened her off. She had already been afraid after her attack, and it was because of that attack that he was once more hiding in the shadows.

Watching her.

Desiring her.

Craving her.

His body knew she was the one, the other half of his soul.
 
He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
 
The small touches he’d stolen while putting her on Elad and helping her dismount hadn’t been nearly enough.

Nay, they’d only fanned the flames of his desire until he burned, blazed…smoldered with it.

He spent the day tracking the men who had attacked her to make sure they were no longer in the village. After that he stayed near her cottage and followed her into the small town. He would take no chances with her life now, not after finally finding her.

His stomach growled, and with the hours ahead until she left the tavern, he knew he needed to eat. A slow smile spread across his face as he tied off Elad and walked toward the tavern.

The anticipation of seeing Isabelle again made his hands shake as he reached for the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside to the heavenly smell of roasting meat, ale, and fresh baked bread. A quick glance showed the brightly lit room to have a few men at the bar drinking while others sat at the tables eating and conversing.

Lucian found an empty table near the door and slid into the seat. His eyes raked the room until he spotted Isabelle walk from the back, her arms laden with trenchers of food. She smiled easily to the patrons and even joked with a few.

He knew the moment she spotted him. Her body jerked slightly, and her midnight blue eyes softened in welcome.
 
He gave her his most charming smile as she finished setting down the mug of ale she and walked toward him.

“Good evening,” he said.

She swallowed and licked her lips, luscious kissable lips that he’d dreamed of sliding over his cock. “I never expected to see you again.”

Lucian had to forcibly move his gaze from her lovely mouth to her beautiful midnight eyes. “I told you last night that I’d see you again.”

“I know, I just didn't think you meant it.”

Her words, spoken so softly, hit him right in the chest.
 
He leaned back in the chair and regarded his mate carefully.
 
She had an easy smile and kind eyes, but if he looked deeper, he could see there was a hurt, deep and profound, that she kept only to herself.
 
He wanted to know what it was.
 
More than that, he wanted her to trust him.
 
“Are you still frightened of me?”

She started to deny it, then promptly closed her mouth. She stared at him a moment before she said, “I am. Strangers always make me nervous.”

“Yet we are no longer strangers.”

The smile was slow, with just a hint of sensuality, telling him she had no idea of her allure. “You’re so proper. We don't have much of that around here.”

He loved how her eyes sparkled mischievously when she teased. “I'm no’ so proper.
 
Shall I show you?”

Lucian prayed she said yes.
 
He wanted so much to wind his fingers in her long hair and pull her against him.
 
He craved to place his lips on hers and taste her, to hold her.
 
He yearned to know his mate fully.

And claim her for his own.

* * * *

Isabelle stared at the man before her.
 
Even without seeing his entire face the night before, she’d known it was him instantly.
 
It was his black clothes and the way he held himself.
 
And the way he watched her.