But the fire burned her tormenting thoughts to ash as one of Cain’s hands found her hair, his fingers climbing through the mass, guiding her lips into place as if they were meant to meld into one. Ella’s body remembered only too well the feel of his power and strength when she’d paid the price of losing the chess game. More. She wanted more.

She raked her nails through Cain’s hair. Eyes closed, only sensation mattered. Even the sound of Viola cursing didn’t pull Ella away from the molten desire raging up like a firestorm through her. She pressed the juncture of her legs against Cain’s hard jack, and he fit her intimately along his length.

With a swoop under her knees, he lifted to carry her away from the barn, his lips still on hers. If people watched, she didn’t care. None of them mattered. Hot and wet, only the feel of Cain’s kiss consumed her. It felt like a promise, a tease of something more, something she had never experienced before. And at the moment, she truly wanted to experience whatever it was that Cain’s touch could do to her.

“Shite,” someone cursed, and she heard them jump out of the way of Cain’s strides. “Sorry, chief.”

Cain broke the kiss, his gaze moving ahead of him in the dark. Ella tried to catch her wild breath and realized his breathing was just as ragged.

“Move,” Cain ordered, and a group dispersed as he marched them through the crowd. Bloody hell, everyone was seeing this. Did she care? These weren’t her people, and any women like Viola needed to know that Cain Sinclair was soon to be hers.

“Where…where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice still breathless.

“To my castle,” he said, his voice raw with unchecked hunger. He glanced down at her, but his stride remained constant, eating up the ground between them and a stone fortress of privacy. “But,” he said, and she watched him swallow, “what happens in my bloody castle is up to ye.”

Lifting her higher into his arms, he continued, his boots thudding across the first drawbridge. Guards stepped aside to let them pass, shadows falling over them.

Ella felt the heat radiating off Cain’s chest as he held her against it, her gaze rising to stare at the solidness of his jaw. His longish hair moved in the night breeze, giving him a savage look, like the ancient Vikings, their blood having flowed through both of their ancestors. With his stern features, it was almost as if he marched off to war. He growled low in his throat. “Bloody damn long way to the keep.”

There was a small scar across his cheek. Where had he earned it? She reached up, her finger touching his warm skin to slide along it. He glanced down and then back up at their path.