Tangled (Handfasting) by Becca St. John Read Free Book Online

could harm you."
    She
eyed the animal, and wondered who would protect her from it. He looked big and
mean enough to eat her. And it wasn't a dog she wanted, but Ian or at the least
another person, someone to explain away the ominous shadows.
    A
shift of focus and she froze, to stare at the fabric in Talorc's lap. A
scrunched up ball of plaid. This, his only concession to modesty, barely
covered his privates, trailed over his thigh, a train in his wake.
    She
couldn't help but stare. This was the body that taunted and teased, that made
her feel ways she had never felt. She touched his thigh with a light finger,
found it muscled, hairy.
    Her
gaze rose but only as far as his chest. That's where it took a turn, along the
path just perused.
    Fascination
washed away embarrassment and fear. She forgot her anger. She, who had grown-up
surrounded by men, could not take her eyes away from the arrow of hair that
mirrored the arrow of his body. So broad and muscled at the top, to taper down
. . . lower down, into the soft folds of fabric that exposed so much, yet hid .
. . all by itself, the cloth shifted as though a live thing were hidden
underneath it. Her eyes snapped up. His glistened with laughter.
    "You
want to peek?"
    She
clutched covers against her own nakedness, and managed a disdainful snort. "You've
nothing I've never seen before."  She lied. She was quite certain he had
something she had never, ever seen.
    "I
bet you've never seen it in this state."
    She
could barely breathe. "As if I would want to."  She lied again,
thinking of how she had felt it through layers of clothes. The curiosity to
see, to touch was strong.
    To
hide her blush, Maggie harrumphed, and flopped over, mumbled about men with
little boy humors, and gave him her back.
    The
bed shifted, cloth rustled. She would not, absolutely not, look. Not even one
quick glimpse over her shoulder. She fought the urge by staring straight ahead.
The shutter still banged, buffeted by the storm raging outside. The shadows
continued to dance. None of it alarmed her. Not anymore. Not with Talorc there,
to make it feel cozy and safe.
    "You're
all right, Maggie. Nothing will harm you at Glen Toric."  He lay beside her
so they faced each other. She wondered if he could read minds to answer her
thoughts.
    He
pulled her into his arms, held her as her brothers would. Neither spoke, as he
stroked her hair. She squirmed.
    He
did not feel like her brother. His caress did not lull her toward sleep, but
made her want to stretch, like a cat so his hands would move from stroking her
hair to stroking . . . She squelched another squirm. He kissed the top of her
head.
    How
many days had it been since he had kissed her properly?  Since he challenged
her body? Too many. He treated her like a child. She did not feel like a child.
    And
she did not know how to start the battle of the senses. He had not yet taught
her that much.
    "Are
you falling to sleep?"
    She
shook her head, and asked, "Are you waiting for me to?  So you can
sleep?"   
    He
pulled back, brushed her hair from her face, his eyes heavy lidded. "Would
you blame me if I did?" 
    She
nestled back into his hold, rather than have him see how she felt.
    Every
night before this one, whenever she woke, Talorc had been there, in the chair
beside her bed, ready to speak to her, to ease her fear, to place a cool cloth
upon her head. Always, he was in the room, to watch over her, make her feel
safe. She was better now and it was true, he needed sleep.
    If
she had a bedmate he could go to another chamber, and get the rest he needed. At
the same time, she would not have to face the fear of a strange place all by
herself.
    "It's
time I share this bed."
    She
pulled back, looked at his hand, poised for another caress, his expressive
features expressionless. She frowned.
    "It's
just that," the words jumbled in her head. "Perhaps things are
different here, but at home maidens share their beds. It leaves more room for
others. Glen Toric can't be so