Page 4

He stepped away from me, making no move to take my cloak. Good, I told myself. Good. I didn’t need to be here long.

Did I?

“Is it Nan?” he ventured. “Is someone else ill?”

I often worked with his grandmother, the village healer, but I had not seen her since this morning. Mutely, I shook my head.

He opened his mouth—presumably to ask another question—then closed it and shook his head, sending the beads in his hair clanking against each another. He glanced at the table where he had clearly been working on a project, then blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Can I offer ye aught?” he finally asked. “Food? Ale?”

You had better say something, lest he think you the one who is ill .

“I—I have had enough ale tonight, I think,” I croaked.

His dark brows rose. “Ye’ve been drinking?”

Slowly, his lips—those wicked, expressive lips I hated that I loved—drew into a wry grin. Nay, a mocking grin?

“Our innocent Myra has been drinking ? What did ye need the courage for, lass?”

Innocent Myra .

I hated that he thought that about me. I hated that it was true. Mayhap ‘twas that knowledge that spurred me to stick out my jaw mulishly and blurt, “I do not want you to think me innocent any longer.”

Well, that shocked him into silence. He studied me, and as the seconds ticked by, I could feel my skin responding to his gaze. It prickled, as if I were too cold and too hot at the same time, and I shuddered, a dull throbbing beginning in my core.

I saw Vartok’s nostrils flare as the look in his eyes turned speculative.

I hated that, too.

In the months since I’d been in Bloodfire Village, in the months since Vartok had been forced to take on the role of acting chief in his brother’s absence, he hadn’t seen me as a female .

Not the way he flirted with every other female in the village, at least. To me, he was teasing, mocking me almost. How could he know my innocence? Was it so obvious?

The fact that he was only now eyeing me speculatively told me I’d guessed correctly; he’d never viewed me as a female, as a potential conquest, up until now.

And I hated that I hated that too.

“Why are ye here, Myra?” he finally asked in a low voice that seemed to reach right down to my core, making me want to shudder again.

“I want to… ”

Damn him, it was the interest in his eyes which caused me to lose my courage. Caused me to trail off and look away.

But then he was stepping toward me, stepping too close .

“What do ye want, wee human?” he all-but-purred, his movements too sensual to be allowed. “What do ye want, that ye’ve come to me in the middle of the night? What could our sweet, innocent, learned, and haughty midwife want from lowly me?”

‘Twas the mocking way he said it, as if he didn’t believe any of his words, that forced my chin up again, forced my glare to meet his eyes.

“I want pleasure,” I snapped out, daring him to say aught offensive. He towered over me, his muscles defined from years in his forge, but I wasn’t scared of him. I’d never been scared of him, had I?

“I want to learn about pleasure.”

And you are the male to teach me.

The words were unsaid in the air between us. I realized I was holding my breath.

Vartok’s expression didn’t change, but I saw his nostrils flare again. He leaned closer, just a few inches, and inhaled, his eyes never leaving mine. Had there always been that green spark in the middle of each eye? I couldn’t remember.

“Pleasure,” he repeated in a murmur, all hints of his earlier teasing gone in favor of an intensity I’d only seen from him at his forge. “I can teach ye about pleasure, lass.”

“I know,” I rasped, my throat too dry for someone who’d had three ales. “I want… ”

“I want too.” His gaze swept down my body. “I have wanted for months. But I have rules.”

Rules? What kind of rules?

My tongue darted out over my lips. Honestly, I was quite proud of my bravery in making it this far. Vartok hadn’t mocked my words, hadn’t thrown me out. He seemed to be seriously considering my request. The least I could do was pretend this was a perfectly normal conversation.

“What do you want?” I managed.

He straightened suddenly. “Everything, lass.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Ye want to learn about pleasure?” He began to move, sauntering to my side with his kilt swaying, as if he were inspecting me. When he reached up to unclasp my cloak, the movement was so sudden I gasped, and didn’t have time to reach for it as it fell from my shoulder to pool around my feet.

His voice dropped, low enough that I felt it in my stomach…and lower.

“I can teach ye about pleasure, lass. But ye will have to obey my rules.”

Now he was behind me. I struggled to keep from twisting my head, from following him.

“What rules?” I yelped, my voice too high and my heart beating too fast.

When he stopped, I could feel him right behind me. He didn’t touch me, but I knew . I felt his heat, could hear his harsh breathing, as if he struggled for control as well .

Then he stepped closer, his breath on my hair, and…and pressed against my lower back was a hard length I knew enough to recognize.

My lips parted on an involuntary moan as I squeezed my thighs together, trying to control my reaction to him. I swayed backward, then immediately forward when I realized what I’d done.

Vartok leaned down, his lips close enough to my ear to make me shiver.

“I am the one to give ye pleasure, Myra. Only me. And when I say ‘tis time, ye will agree. Do ye understand?”

“Aye,” I squeaked, my senses too overwhelmed to really understand what I was agreeing to.

“I am the one who determines when ye need pleasure. I am yer teacher. I am in control of this little…game.”

Game? Is that what this was to him? Is that what I was to him? My chin rose again, but something stopped me from complaining.

Shut up shut up shut up. You wanted pleasure, aye? Well, you are more aroused than you have ever been, and all you are doing is standing in his home . He is clearly the expert, and you are a good student. Just accept his terms!

“Do ye understand, Myra?” he purred in my ear.

Exhaling, I forced my shoulders to relax.

“Aye,” I whispered, as I pressed back against him.

His hands rose to my shoulders.

“Good lass.” He sounded smug. “Such a good little plaything, to come to me for help. ”

I wanted to hate him, but my body was clearly loving him—nay, not him ! Just his touch…and his praise.

“When will we start?” I managed to ask, trying to sound as if this was a normal relationship between a teacher and pupil.

His hands slid to my chest as his mouth lowered to the skin of my neck.

“ Now .”