Chapter Twelve

Prudence jumped. She whirled around, the bundle dropping from her fingers.

Dugan tilted his head to one side, appearing perplexed with her. "Are ye truly thinking to venture out in the darkness?"

Frustration drew its sharp claws along her hopes for an escape.

"Yes," she snapped. "You should let me go."

For a moment he appeared to contemplate what Prudence believed to be an uncrossable chasm between them. The differences between Scot and English felt so very great right now.

But he looked over toward a basket of fruit. He reached past her to pick up an apple. "Should I admit that I wanted to see what ye thought of me when ye looked into the water of the Enchanted Well?"

Whatever she'd thought he might say, that wasn't it.

Dugan tilted his head to one side. "I was drawn to ye, Braylin."

Prudence's mouth went dry. She felt exposed, because the truth was, she understood exactly what he was saying. She'd felt the same way.

Dugan held the fruit in the air between them. He pointed at her. "Ye did yer own share of enchanting me at the bonfire. The way ye looked at me with those dark eyes of yers. How could I resist?"

Braylin felt her eyelids fluttering. She had never felt so…so…well, so very alive.

Dugan was watching her. In truth, he was staring at her with such intensity, she should have wanted to move away. But instead, she stared back, fascinated by the attention.

Time felt like it was standing still. Prudence didn't care what was happening outside of the storeroom. There was only Dugan and the way he made her feel. His gaze on her was intoxicating.

The semidarkness seemed to offer them permission to do…well, to be there together when it was something forbidden.

"Now that ye are here Braylin, I cannot fight the urge to keep ye," he muttered.

"That makes no sense." Her voice was raspy, sounding almost as though she was fighting herself with her protests.

"It does nae," Dugan agreed. "And yet lass, I want to see if ye tremble when I touch ye…as ye did at the bonfire."

Dugan lifted his hand. Prudence felt her breath catch in response. He was reaching for her, his hand coming closer until she felt the brush of his fingertips against her cheek.

Prudence sucked in a shaky breath.

She'd never felt anticipation, hadn't realized her body might react in such a way to just a simple brush of fingers against her skin.

She felt besotted by him, unable to look away. And she craved more of him. Much, much more.

Dugan didn't deny her. He leaned in, tilting his head to one side so that their lips might fit easily against each other. She shuddered at the first contact, pulling back to draw in a shaky breath that sounded abnormally loud. Dugan hovered near her for a moment, then pressed his mouth against hers once more.

His kiss was soft, gentle…and oh, so tempting. Her heart was thumping hard inside of her chest. She felt a rush of insane excitement, pushing her, teasing her. Prudence didn't know how to describe it—all she knew was she wanted more of it.

Dugan seemed to understand her need without her speaking. He closed the space between them, deepening the kiss. His hand cradled her face and his other arm was against her back, softly holding her against him.

As he slid his mouth across hers, teasing the delicate surface of her lips with his before increasing the pressure, a thrill of excitement surged through her. This was deeper and darker, but she didn't fear him. No, instead she was totally fascinated by Dugan, feeling as if she was being drawn deeper into the very heart of it. She could have stayed in his arms forever.

But moments later, Dugan lifted his head, severing the connection. In the darkness, his face was cast in shadows and the sound of his rough breathing filled her ears. Or maybe it was her own breath that she heard. Somehow, they had merged into one entity, making it difficult to know where she ended, and he began.

He smoothed his hand along the side of her face. "We'd best return to the hall where we do nae have privacy," Dugan said, his voice edged with frustration. "I do nae trust myself alone with ye. I believe this is going to be the longest winter of my life while I wait for our wedding day to arrive."

"I have not agreed to wed you," Prudence said.

One of Dugan's eyebrows rose.

"Do ye still mean to argue over the matter?" Dugan asked her softly. He reached out and touched her warm cheek. "Do ye not yet admit that we are very well-suited to one another?"

"Marriage is more than…reactions," Prudence replied, shocked at how husky her voice sounded.

He grinned. "Aye, it is. And yet, I believe we'll have a far better marriage because of the way we react to one another."

Prudence gasped. "Such bold words…" She struggled to admonish him even as she had to admit that his words excited her.

He opened his hands. "True words." He leaned toward her, making her breath catch. "Should I not speak the truth, lass?"

"Yes," she muttered almost too softly to hear. "But to be so brazen about something like this…" Words failed her.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Not every couple reacts to one another as we just did. Have ye not worried over just who yer father would match ye with? I confess, I have spent a fair bit of time fearing the bride my father might choose for me." Dugan studied her for a long moment. "I never would have taken ye from yer home, but ye are here now. I will not let ye leave, lass."

"But I want to go," she insisted. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"Because you kissed me back, Braylin."

Yes, she had. All of her arguments evaporated when faced with that fact. She'd kissed him back, and she wanted to do it again.

It was wanton, and impulsive, and so very…Braylin.

"I am just as guilty of going to that Samhain celebration as you are. I know full well what me father would have preferred I do. And if we are confessing, I should not leave out the fact that I willingly snuck up to make certain ye saw my face in the water because I wanted to see yer cheeks turn pink. So…it seems the enchantment of the well has bound us both solidly to one another."

Prudence felt her eyes widen. "Spells are nothing to make light of, Dugan."

His face became serious. "Ye are no longer beneath yer father's roof, lass. The tale of the enchanted well was created by my countrymen so that no one builds a house next to it. Ye see, we need the water for our horses when we are crossing back and forth."

Astonishment held her in its grip. "You started the tale?"

"No me, precisely, but other Scots," Dugan explained. "It was a Scotsman who dug the well, so it seemed we should be the ones to use it. But since it is on English ground, well, a clever man thought of a way to keep the English away from it."

"That is…" Prudence struggled to find the right word to describe her feelings.

"What it is, is effective," Dugan informed her smugly.

"I suppose you're right. About the well, that is," Prudence said.

"So, we're back to the question of wedding." Dugan didn't dance around the issue.

"Your father does not like me," Prudence said. She felt her eyes widen. "There is nobody else here. You could help me leave. No one would know." Why had she not thought of it sooner? Braylin looked at Dugan, hoping he'd agree. But instead, she found him contemplating her with a serious expression on his face.

He shook his head. "Yer family and everyone ye know will consider ye ruined, Braylin."

He was correct—Prudence couldn't deny it. But she drew in a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I will have to accept that as my just fate for being disobedient. My parents have spent a good amount of effort on trying to curb me of being impulsive."

Dugan crossed his arms across his chest, a small smile on his face—a smug smile. "I find ye to me taste, lass. Kissing ye should have proven that much to ye. I want to wed ye for more than honor's sake."

Part of her wanted to wrap herself up in his words. To simply be wanted, as she was.

It was so very tempting.

"Do not tease me, Dugan," Prudence implored him. "You have been forced to choose between your honor and being free of this scheme. I witnessed you being bent by Lady Alice."

A glint appeared in his eyes. "I've learned something new that I like about ye, Braylin. Ye do nae stand idle when injustice is being done to another."

The compliment was unexpected. Prudence discovered she liked it very much. But the knowledge that she'd be leaving made the moment almost bittersweet, and she surreptitiously studied Dugan, wanting to commit his face to memory.

One of his eyebrows rose. "Such selflessness is a fine quality to have in a wife."

"But Lady Alice is saddling you with a wife nobody will accept," Prudence exclaimed.

"Aye, it might take a while. But eventually, it will be well," Dugan agreed.

"Please take me home and free yourself," Prudence insisted.

"I doubt either of us will ever be free of one another, lass," Dugan said. "It seems the warnings about the power of the Enchanted Well are not groundless. We have both been snared."

When Prudence shook her head, Dugan suggested, "Perhaps we should test our reaction to each other again to see if wedding is a good idea or not." Then he caught her up against him in a motion that was almost too quick to register. One moment she was struggling to believe he meant what he said, and in the next, she was pressed against him.

If she'd felt besotted before, now she was entirely mindless.

Pressed against him from head to toe, she felt overwhelmed. His scent filled her senses, tempting her to curl her fingers into his clothing.

She wanted to hold him, as he was holding her.

It was an impulse far too strong to ignore. Fighting against it would have been like trying to rip off her own hand. Now that his mouth was on hers, the flame had caught. Holding back the flare of passion was utterly impossible.

This kiss was very different than their first one. His hand threaded through her hair, cradling her head so that he could hold her at the perfect angle. He knew what he was doing, moving his mouth against hers in a way that filled her with such intense pleasure, she felt as though her insides were twisting.

But she held him tightly, craving more of him. Beneath her fingertips, she detected the hard pounding of his heart. She pulled her head back…or tried to. The truth was that if he hadn't allowed her to move, his strength would have made her submit to him.

But he lifted his head, yielding to her will. She caught a flicker from the candlelight in his eyes which showed her his frustration.

"Did I hurt ye?" Dugan asked softly.

Prudence shook her head.

"Are ye frightened then? Is that why ye pull back?"

"I am…losing myself."

And she liked the way he felt against her. Words failed her as she flattened her hands on his chest, fascinated with how much she enjoyed feeling the warmth of his body against her own. No embrace had ever pleased her so very much. It was so tempting to allow him to do whatever he pleased with her.

He chuckled. "Be lost along with me, Braylin. I can think of nothing I desire more."

Dugan lowered his head, nuzzling at the side of her neck. A sound of male satisfaction rumbled out of his mouth before he pressed a kiss against her nape.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of frigid air. Prudence blinked, trying to focus on what had changed. Dugan turned her away from the door, placing himself between her and the two women who stood in the doorway.

Niamh had her hands propped on her hips. She stared at Dugan and Prudence before turning to speak to her companion.

"And here I was thinking this English girl had managed to get herself locked in the storage and needed someone to let her out."

The second woman made a little sound beneath her breath. "Seems the mistress is correct to get these two to the church doors for a blessing."

The pair of women turned and started back for the main stronghold.

"Wait—" Prudence started to argue but Dugan caught her wrist.

"Save yer breath lass. Ye should already have noticed that Lady Alice is very good at getting her way. My father put her in her place this morning, but it appears the lady is far from accepting defeat," Dugan said. "I stepped into her snare by following ye."

He sent her a determined look. "I am not sorry, for I plan to wed ye, Braylin."

At this moment, it was clear that Prudence was gone for good—she was Braylin again.

She only wished she knew how to feel about it.