Dark Seduction. Brenda Joyce

her attraction? This wasn’t helping matters—it was complicating them! “I don’t throw myself at strange men. You need to keep your distance.”

      His gaze slid over her in a very suggestive manner. “I think,” he said softly, “ye dinna throw yerself at any man, except me.”

      He was right. She was speechless.

      He looked satisfied now.

      “Did you hypnotize me in the woods?” she cried hoarsely. “Because the only other explanation for my behavior is that I have lost my mind—or it’s been altered by what has happened!”

      “Explain the word hypnotize,” he said.

      She tried to speak more calmly. “It means mesmerize, entrance, enchant! When you look at me sometimes, it is very hard to think!”

      “’Tis a small gift,” he said smugly. “And a useful one.”

      “What, from Merlin the Magician?”

      “Ye be so distressed an’ angry, lass, an’ why? Ye wanted it an’ ye were pleased. ’Tis nay important now. Or be ye mad because I ha’ decided not t’ give over to such temptation again?”

      It took her a long moment to decipher his words. “ What?“

      “I want ye, Claire. Dinna doubt me. But I be sworn to protect ye.”

      “Are you telling me you are not going to—” She stopped. She had been about to say make love, but if she did, he would laugh at her, she was certain.

      His lashes lowered again. “Fuck ye?”

      She inhaled. If a modern-day man spoke that way, it would probably be offensive. Coming from Malcolm, it only conjured up graphic and heated images of his driving his very extraordinary length into her repeatedly, with shocking power and stunning effect. If he did so now, right now, she would explode.

      She swallowed. She had been certain she was going to have to hold him off. Now he was telling her he was not interested—except he was, because even now she felt him throbbing in the room. His lust was as tangible as the wine she could smell in her mug. Was he clever enough to be manipulating her? She was confused, and damn it, she was even dismayed.

      “What would make you decide to be a gentleman?” she managed to say.

      He looked up with a brief, self-derisive laugh. “I be nay gentle, lass, an’ we both ken.” His humor vanished. His gray eyes turned black. “I dinna wish to see ye lyin’ dead beneath me.”

      Claire would have backed up if there was somewhere to go. “I don’t understand.” But the fear that had vanished during their conversation returned.

      His gaze slowly moved over her, deliberately, and then it lifted to her face. “I want ye badly, very badly, but I dinna trust meself.”

      “What does that mean?” she gasped.

      He was blunt. “I killed a maid. I willna do so again.”

      “You killed a woman?” Claire cried, backing up into the bed. The word evil went right through her mind.

      “Ye be terrified,” he said softly.

      “No!” Her heart shrieked at her. Malcolm was not evil. She would bet her life on it. He had not just said what she thought he had. “You said you wanted to protect me,” she breathed.

      “Aye.”

      Claire realized she was panting. “Please don’t tell me…!”

      His face was hard. “She died in my arms, Claire. She died takin’ her pleasure from me.”