It was only when she lifted her chin, gazed up at the ceiling of the chamber and closed her eyes that he realized he’d seen her before. Searching his memory Duncan finally remembered where and when.

In the early hours just as the sun rose, when unable to sleep, he would walk the battlements of the keep and gaze down at the sea and the village outside the walls. Several times in the last months he’d noticed her leaving the keep just before dawn and walking to the beach south of the keep.

With nothing more than curiosity to keep his attention, Duncan would watch as she would take off her clothes and fling herself into the water. Her practice was the same each time he’d watched—dipping twice under the surface of the water and scrubbing her skin as she did. Then she would plunge down and remain in the freezing waters until he thought she’d perished. Duncan remembered several times when he would begin counting how long she stayed under the water, wondering if she would rise from it at all.

Over the months he’d witnessed it, the changes within him made any tension he felt as he counted out the seconds lessen until the last time, he’d watched in complete disinterest, no matter how much he knew he should be concerned.

Now watching the way she tilted her head, it reminded him of the way she would look up at the sun as she walked, sometimes struggling, out of the waves. In the earlier times he’d seen her, he thought she might be a selkie or water spirit. But, lately, he could only observe her actions from a distance in both space and him. Until, that was, she lowered her head and gazed at him through her lashes.

That heat seared him again, letting him feel things that he’d not felt in months. Was she a selkie risen from the sea or some otherworldly creature capable of giving him back all he’d lost? His moments of disinterested watchfulness were over, for his body and his soul both knew she was more than she appeared and his mind only knew he must discover her secrets and their link to his own. Standing, his feet moved before he could think on what words to say or what he wanted. . . all he knew was that he wanted. . . her.

Unable to understand or explain what was between them, Duncan stood in front of her, his gaze never wavering from hers. He did not stop when the entire crowd noticed and quieted. He continued even when she tore her gaze from his for the slightest of moments and then met it again. And Duncan did not let the fact that every eye in the room now fell on their encounter concern him at all.

“Who are you?” he asked, unable to form his thoughts and these newly-returned needs into anything more complex while watching her.

She looked away, turning her head and her eyes this time, and he followed the direction of her gaze. The man with whom she arrived frowned at her and then looked over at Duncan, assessing him before nodding to her.

“I am called Isabel, my lord,” she said in a voice that impossibly sent chills through his numb body. She bowed her head as she spoke.

“Isabel,” he whispered, savoring the sound and feel of it on his lips—something not possible just minutes ago.

“Duncan?”

Duncan acknowledge Lord Davin with a tilt of his head, but dared not look away from her because fear had returned as well as sensations and he feared that all of it would end if he turned from her now.

“Lord Davin?” he replied in the same manner.

“Is aught well?” Davin asked. Davin kept his confidences, as both friend and lord, so Duncan had made him aware of the ongoing changes. “Has she offended you in some way?”

“Nay, my lord,” he said. From the reactions of those in the room when she entered, offended was not the word he would have used to describe her affect. Then, in a moment of clarity, the whole of the situation became clear—her entry, her dress and sensual manner, being seated away from others, the sight of her leaving the keep always in the morning before dawn, the gazes filled with lust that watched her every move, her habit of looking to the man for permission. . .

She was a harlot and the man her whoremaster.

“The lady intrigues me,” he explained. The bold guffaws from those watching and listening confirmed it. She was no lady.

Davin leaned in and explained under his breath. “She is only tolerated here because of her father’s worth to me. If she interests you, I will order him to send her to you. No coin need be exchanged for her.”

Duncan expected that finding out she sold her way from man to man and bed to bed would have dampened his interest, but it did not. Harlot or lady, his body came to life under her gaze. He felt the blood in his veins and even the fabric as it pulled against his erection—sensations gone for months now. Being a harlot made it easier somehow to want her just for the physical aspects of this.

Not daring to leave it to chance or willing to delay, Duncan looked over at the man who’d brought her in and waited for his answer. When Davin crossed his arms over his chest and turned as well, a nod was hastily delivered. Duncan held out his hand to Isabel and waited for her to accept it.

His stomach clenched even as his cock surged with anticipation and his skin ached. Duncan held his breath, unsure if the pride he saw in her eyes would allow this public declaration of what she was to happen. The moment spun out between them, drawing the silent observation of everyone around them until he could see nothing but her. He could almost hear the sound of her shallow breaths as he waited. Then, as though moving with exquisitively-slow motions, she lifted her hand and placed it in his.

A wave of heat and a shock pulsed through him in that very moment. He gasped at the intensity of it, for it burned without harming as it coursed through his body. Her matching gasp and the surprise in her gaze told him she’d felt it as well. Duncan closed his fingers around her hand, guiding her out of her seat and along the table until she could step closer.

Her scent flooded him with a mix of some hint of flowers, a hint of arousal and something else unexpected, a hint of innocence. Duncan inhaled again as he drew her to him and placed his arm around her waist. She shook her head, but he sensed it was more in confusion or surprise over the growing attraction between them. By the time they reached the corridor outside the hall, he hastened their pace. He guided her up the stone stairway to his chambers in the tower and could not help that they were almost running when they reached his door. Both out of breath, he flung open his door, surprising Ornolf who remained within.

“Out.”

 

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