His eyes were a hard, glittering smoke. “I would rather,” he ground out, “you have the sense not to go out alone in a snowstorm. I warned you about the dangers here. Goddammit, do I have to play nursemaid to you every minute of the day?”

The words erupted between them with soft violence.

Despite her shudders, Heather stiffened, her spine going rigid. Backhanding the tears from her cheeks, she turned her face away. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

“No,” she managed hoarsely, “you are not required to play nursemaid.”

Forcing her feet to move, she retrieved her coat from the wall peg. When she went to the door, Sloan gave a start.

“Dammit, where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere where I’m wanted—where I’m n-not considered a th-threat to your daughter…”

Behind her, Sloan cursed. Moving swiftly, he put a hand against the door and shoved it shut. Heather struggled to open it again, but he was too strong for her, and she was too weak with fatigue and cold.

“Dammit, duchess, don’t be a fool. You can’t go back out there. You’ll freeze to death.”

“What do you care?”

Her voice caught on a sob. She was shaking; her head was bowed.

He steeled himself against her tears. At her back, his hands rose to her shoulders, gripping tightly.

She flinched. “Damn you, leave me be!”

She tried to draw away, but he forced her to turn around. The tears streamed down her face, yet she refused to look at him.

Those tears kicked him square and hard in the chest. Sloan inhaled a sharp breath, surveying her beautiful face, vainly trying to ignore the heat that surged through him. He tightened his grasp and found himself bringing her closer, imprisoning her. He wanted to erase those tears. He wanted to shelter her, to hold her, to warm her with his body, his lips … even as he wanted to punish her.

With another vivid curse, he brought his mouth down hard on hers.

Chapter 9

HEAT LEAPT BETWEEN them, shocking and primal. Relief, anger, need, all came pouring out of Sloan, into his kiss. His temper was frayed from the strain of weeks of wanting her, from the emotions that fought and tangled inside him… fear and passion and pent-up desire.

He felt Heather attempt to pull away as his mouth took hers fiercely. It triggered in him a primal, violent response to subdue and conquer. He deepened his kiss, refusing to release her—until she made a soft, despairing sound that broke through his blind haze of lust and anger and tore at his heart.

Lifting his head, Sloan took a deep breath, fighting the savage heat of his body. It was like a knife in him to see those tears on her face.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Don’t cry.”