Then he heard her mutter something against his throat. “What?” he asked softly, and he started at her answer.

“Harder.”

She couldn’t believe she said the word once, much less twice. But she had always been a woman who knew what she wanted. And she needed him to move inside of her harder. She appreciated the time he took, the gentleness of it all, but she was over the hardest part. He had breached her maidenhead in expert fashion and now she wanted to move past that.

He paused. “Did you just say ‘harder?’”

“Yes.” She cringed. “Guess that was rude.” An accusation flung at her more than once.

He licked the hollow of her neck. “Not at all.”

He slammed into her and Annwyl felt every nerve in her body come alive. He pulled out and slammed into her again. She closed her eyes and let the pleasure wash over her.

As he moved inside of her, she ran her hands down his back. When heat spread from her loins and up her spine, she dug her nails into his back as her whole body began to tighten and she lost her breath. When the first spasm tore through her, her nails ripped across his flesh and she screamed out, her body arching against his.

He slammed into her again, his whole body shaking as he released inside of her.

Annwyl leaned her forehead against his neck. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing. His heart beat against her chest as his warm body held her close. Before she knew it, Annwyl was asleep.

He could feel Annwyl’s even breathing against his hot flesh as she fell asleep against him. He smiled as he relaxed them both against the grass. He smoothed her long hair away from her face and stared down at her. No frowns. No worries. It looked as if she were having a dreamless sleep.

He cradled her in his arms and kissed her sweat-covered forehead. He closed his eyes. When they awoke he’d tell her the truth. All of it.

Whether his mad little warlord wanted to hear it or not.

Chapter 10

Annwyl awoke to find the shadows deepened and herself naked in the knight’s arms. She turned her head, and their eyes locked. He watched her silently. And she guessed he had been for quite a while.

He started to speak and Annwyl stopped him. “Don’t.” She pulled away from him, picked up her clothes, and walked off. “See you tomorrow.”

See you tomorrow? Fearghus sat up and watched her walk off. She didn’t even look back at him as she walked and put her clothes on at the same time. She barely acknowledged his existence. She wouldn’t even let him speak.

Fearghus clenched his fists, his rage swarming around him. He needed to hurt something. To destroy something.

Fearghus’s eyes narrowed. Gwenvael.

He stood up with a growl. He needed to find his brother. He needed to kick the shit out of something and Gwenvael would do quite nicely.

Gwenvael sat in one of the chairs in Annwyl’s room, his feet up on the table. He’d done his task. He’d given Morfyd the message. And she would make sure that Fearghus got it. Now he could play. And he’d bet all his gold that Annwyl could be quite the entertainment. Sweet. Innocent. And his brother was crazy about her.

He didn’t blame him. She was a beautiful girl. Tall. Scarred. A little mean. And he’d always liked that in a female. He loved it when they were mean. But that wasn’t what really interested him. It was the fact that “Don’t bother me” Fearghus had finally fallen. And fallen hard by the looks of it. He thought his brother would rip his guts out when he saw him talking to Annwyl.

Absolutely nothing made his day more fun than when he could drive Fearghus insane. True, Fearghus might be firstborn, but Gwenvael always felt his particular birthright was to torture his siblings. And Fearghus had always been his greatest challenge, therefore his favorite. Mainly because Fearghus was the quintessential dragon. He never moved faster than he had to. He never got upset or seriously angry. He never worried. And he never seemed to care about anything except his privacy and his quiet.

Then the human came along. When he heard that Fearghus rescued a human, Gwenvael had been shocked. When he found out it had been Annwyl the Bloody, notorious sister of The Butcher of Garbhán Isle, he became intrigued. And now that he’d seen his brother desperate with lust . . . well, things just became much more interesting.

Besides, he thought with a growl, I still owe him for my tail.

He heard her coming a league away. The woman stomped like an elephant.

Annwyl stormed into the chamber and stopped as soon as she saw him.

“I was wondering where you’d gone.”

“What do you want, Gwenvael?” She wasn’t in the same mood she’d had been in a few hours before. He fought back the smile. He could smell his brother all over her. It seemed that Fearghus had finally stopped being a prat.

“I just stopped by to see you. Is there anything wrong with that?”

She sighed, heavily, and stomped across the room. She stopped in front of a large wood chest. “Where did this come from?” At his shrug, she smiled. “Fearghus.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear her. Annwyl knelt down and opened it. There were clothes inside, but she ignored them for the dagger that lay on top.

He wondered what dead nobleman’s hand his brother pried that little item from. Gwenvael watched her examine the blade and became bored. Time now to have a little fun.

“So, where’s my brother?”

“I have no idea.” She tested the weight of the blade.

“I hope you’re not . . . well, getting any feelings for him. That would be a mistake.”