Mystic Mountains

from her delicate face. Although her beauty might not be of the classical sort that made artists swoon there was something about her that drew him like a moth to a flame.
    She was pressing her body to his, unknowingly offering what he knew was not his for the taking. Why had he broken with Selena? If he needed a woman why didn 't he go to her? But perhaps his fate had been decided when he'd finished with his mistress; perhaps this had been ordained. Why had he picked this woman out of the bunch on the wharf that fateful day? Nothing could have warned him he would have such a lust for her.
    Unable to help himself he pulled her hard against his body. A groan wrenched from him at the feel of her softness. It had been a long time since he 'd had such an urgent desire for any woman, a desire that would never be sated. He pressed his mouth on hers, ignoring her small whimper of surprise, or was it acquiescence, kissing her with a demanding force. He knew he should be gentle with her, but desire roiled inside him, seething and hot. Her lips had the sweetness of spring and the heat of a summer's afternoon. To know she returned his desire was like an aphrodisiac, goading him on.
    "No," she protested on a small cry as he lifted his head a fraction to gaze down at her.
    By the carriage light he saw that her mouth was swollen from his kisses, and he sighed as he touched it, stepping back a pace and loosening his hold on her.
    "Perhaps you 're right," he said. "Go to bed, Bella. Go, while you can. I'll settle the horse."
    Abruptly he turned away, combing his fingers through his hair. They were shaking so much he clenched them tight as he waited for her to leave.
    Isabella ran up the path. Inside the house she pressed her back against the door and took a few heaving breaths, her hot cheeks cupped in her shaking palms. Someone had left a candle alight, and by its flickering glow she sat on a high backed chair, breathing a tired sigh. Her foot was throbbing. It hadn't ached all evening; or she hadn't been aware of it. Slipping her feet out of the soft dancing slippers, she crossed her bad foot over her knee and began to rub it, closing her eyes as she massaged the tired toes.
    "Let me," Tiger offered, and her eyes shot open in dismay.
    "I didn't hear you come in. I was just going to bed." She made to rise, but Tiger's hand, firm but gentle on her shoulder, pushed her back down.
    Going down on his haunches he lifted her foot with infinite tenderness. As he began to rub, working up from the arch to the top of her deformed toe a glow seeped into her, warmth flowing from where his fingers touched her going right up to her belly, then onwards until it filled every part of her.
    "Please don't," she whispered, but he shook his golden head, glancing at her with eyes that held a strange intensity.
    "Why not? Doesn 't that feel better? Don't you like it?" he asked, his tone one she'd never heard before, deep and somehow strained.
    Like it? She was burning inside; melting with a kind of warmth that seeped into her bones at the delicious sensations his touch evoked. His movements, begun as impersonal, changed, growing seductive as his fingers worked over the top of her foot, then lingered on her ankle. Those hands, which she'd seen put to heavy tasks about the farm, now touched her with a kind of soft reverence that made her skin quiver with sensuous pleasure.
    His hair fell forward as he bent to his task and Isabella fought the urge to push the strand back. Then, of their own accord, her fingers lost the battle and she reached out. He looked up, as with trembling fingers she touched it.
    He dragged in a sharp breath, then gave her a slow smile that sent her stomach tumbling.
    "Yes, you like it."
    Momentarily she felt a stab of annoyance at his supreme arrogance, then as he moved, stroking his fingers further up her ankle, over her calf, lingering on her knee, she forgot everything but the touch of his fingers, and the warm brush of his breath on her skin.
    A moth fluttered round the lamp, and in the quiet all she could hear was its wings flapping, Tiger's breathing, and her heart pounding, drumming through her head. Her lips parted on a small sigh and his eyes rested on them as if he'd fallen under a trance.
    Tiger knew he should stop, but his hands moved with a will of their own over her skin. Her body drew him on like some nymph, luring him to taste her irresistible charms. Her eyes mesmerized him like refreshing pools on a scorching day,