Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 by Heart of the Dragon Page A

chuckled.
    “Had enough?”
    Not certain her voice would work, she nodded and handed it back. This time she knew the touch of his hand on hers was no accident, for his fingers intertwined with hers for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment.
    Before she could react, he rose to his feet and started gathering up Swen’s supplies.
    “I don’t want to make this too easy for him,” he said. Using his sword, he lifted the packs high and hung them from the branches above Swen’s head.
    “I imagine he’ll see them—probably long before he can reach them.” Again she saw that fleeting smile, and again her heart raced. She looked away. Did she react so strongly to his smile because she never knew when to expect it?
    She stood so that he could take the saddle.
    “Where are your horses?” she asked. He must have left them far away, for she’d not heard his approach, nor the whickering of any horse but Swen’s.
    He hefted the saddle up into a tree, then picked his sword up off the ground.
    “I only brought one mount.”
    He kicked dirt into the fire and stomped out the embers.
    “You’ll have to ride with me.”
    She felt blind in the sudden absence of light. However, she was glad he wouldn’t be able to see her response to his comment. She knew that riding in the Dragon’s embrace would be nothing like riding with Swen. Frowning, she let Ian lead her by the arm through the thick trees.
    Now she would learn what purgatory was.
    Her other senses seemed more finely attuned than normal.
    His strong fingers held her arm in a firm yet gentle grip, sending that insidious heat winding through her veins again. Despite the piny odor of the forest, she could smell his clean, masculine scent. She’d have recognized it—and him—anywhere. The thought was strangely comforting.
    His horse stood patiently waiting, not even shifting or stomping when they approached. Perhaps warriors trained their mounts thus, for Swen’s had been the same. Whatever the reason, Lily couldn’t help but be glad of it. She’d never been around such massive beasts, and she found it reassuring that, despite their size, they were so docile.
    Ian pulled her to a halt beside his mount.
    “Let me take this,” he said, his hands sweeping the cloak from her shoulders. He tossed it over the saddle, then brought his hands to rest where the cloak had been.
    Though she couldn’t see him clearly in the faint moonlight, she could feel his gaze caress her’ face She trembled in reaction.
    “Are you cold?” he asked, leaning toward her to whisper in her ear. Another shiver coursed through her at the subtle movement of his lips against her skin, carrying fire in its wake. He slowly pulled her into his arms.
    “Let me warm you.” ‘
    He surrounded her with his touch, his scent, as he brushed his mouth over her face and neck. His tongue darted out to taste the hollow of her throat, turning her knees to jelly. But he held her steady in his arms, lending her his strength.
    Lily’s hands had been loosely clenched at her sides, but she could no longer resist the temptation to caress him, as well. She cradled Ian’s face in her hands, savoring the contrast of the rough stubble on his chin with the firm softness of his mouth. When she stroked his bruised lip, he captured her fingertip with his teeth and drew it lightly between his lips; she gasped as the sensation shot through her body to center deep within her.
    He hadn’t even kissed her—that was the act Sister Maud had warned her against, claiming it led to all sorts of licentious behavior—yet he’d catapulted her senses into complete confusion. The chills blanketing her body were not caused by cold, but by heat—a fire raging through her blood, bringing with it a burning ache only the Dragon could ease.
    The darkness enveloped them in its embrace, adding a sense of illusion. Every movement seemed destined to bring pleasure—and a yearning for more.
    Lily gave in to the unconquerable urge and raised her mouth