appetite, squabbles happened frequently. Martin accepted the challenges, the wrestling. In most cases, he enjoyed the pleasure of the adrenaline of the fight…but Jane was not any woman to fight over. She was a possible mate for him, not a mere sexual release, and it remained unseen if Mac wanted more from her, too.
He had leaned against the wall in the dining hall and sipped his thick black coffee as he surveyed the situation. Her beautiful lower lip caught between her teeth. Her blond hair, down, pulled back from her slightly tanned skin, held him. She was utterly intoxicating.
What a sight they all made! Five men the size of oxen, sitting in substantial chairs dwarfed by their physical size. He’d wanted to show himself to her last night, but just couldn’t bring himself to. His sure size would have sent her screaming in the night. So he’d used his mind to block her from seeing him.
As it was, she would notice his scent if he ventured too close. Damnit! No matter how he wanted to, he couldn’t reveal his intentions in front of his brothers. She would surely leave if the claws came out, and he wanted nothing more than for her to stay…for a lifetime.
What did she think of him? Her gaze had scrutinized him as Mac introduced him. He had wanted to slip into her mind as he had last night, but his family would know the instant he did, and he couldn’t hint at his desire. Not yet.
Repressing his intentions went against every lesson his father had instilled in him. Eventually his instincts would take him, and his family would know. But, for now, he needed knowledge, so he had sat back and watched…waited to see if one of his brothers desired more than mere sexual conquest.
Jerome had then leaned in and placed a cinnamon roll in front of her, and Martin smiled. She craved him. Devon caught his grin and winked. Yes, Martin did have a chance with her. Yet Devon had no idea Martin had already tasted her.
Orin finally sat, brooding in his usual silent way.
Martin had pushed from the wall and seated himself opposite Jane. Her gaze touched his, and the hairs on his neck lifted. She would be his…had to be. His instinct never raged this strong for a possible mate. He fucked several but never wished to start the mating ritual of Orsse. Jane…. Making her his was the one thought pulsing through his brain.
Mac had leaned toward her; his hand had risen bit by bit, heading in the direction of Jane’s arm. Martin’s blood had pounded through him; teeth clenched, his muscles had strained as he tried to control the will to defend her.
He would not permit his brother to touch her. She belonged to him. Damnit! He had tasted her. She infused each breath he took. Mac’s hand landed on her forearm, and Martin’s muscles had sprung him to action. His chair had clattered to the floor in alarming speed. He had barely suppressed a raging hiss as his vision hazed.
“Sit now, boar, and behave,” his father had said from the head of the table as he feigned studying his knife.
Martin couldn’t keep his rage controlled. Every thread that he held taut quaked. “Pardon, Father.” His voice deepened and wavered in rage. “I–I need to leave.”
“Very well. Say your farewell.” Gain your control, Martin, and say your farewell with grace.
Of course, his father would test him.
His father’s cool blue gaze had slid over Martin and assessed the situation in one glance. Then his father’s eyes had shot to Jane and narrowed. What problems this caused! If either Martin or Mac were not sent from this house, another disaster like the one his father had initiated with Uncle Oscar would come full circle.
Mac had then leaned back, the corner of his lips inching up, mocking him. Damn him! Martin had wanted to jump over the table and tackle him to the floor. If he touched her again in any form, he would kill him. His fists clenched as the bone of his knuckles rose; his claws unsheathed. Damn him!
“Good day, miss.” Martin had bowed his head, swiftly absorbing her beautiful pouting lips and deep honey-colored hair. His blood pounded through his ears. He tried to control this overwhelming desire for her and smashed his teeth together, snagging his tongue in the process. The salty taste of the virgin’s blood that he had forced to flow anew last night flooded his mouth, and his semistiff erection hardened to full.
He had stepped forward. He needed her; she possessed him. His hands fisted, and his claws extended through his skin. No! Get control of yourself! The green grass, the river… He had inhaled a wavering breath in an attempt to gain control.
His muscles shook forcefully as he restrained himself from pouncing on his brother. He turned, leaving the room in haste. Striding down the hall, he picked out the tone of her voice. He stopped, anxious to know her thoughts, her feelings, and listened to her songlike tone.
“Your lordship, I—I am sorry to disrupt you and your family. I would like conveyance in your carriage. I wish to return home.”
Damn it all…. She wanted to leave. Of course she did! What sane woman would stay in this madhouse? His hands shook with the need to possess her, lock her away, and make her accept him. His inner bear cried out in pain. Leaving was the only way to control this…. He would go for a ride. The rain, the smells of nature would calm him.
Jane sat at the table and waited for his lordship to answer. He stared after Martin, a deep, worried frown etching his face.
“My lord?”
His gaze slid to her and caressed her form. “I am sorry, Miss Milton, but our carriage needs repair, and with the rain so heavy, you will have to stay with us until the storm stops.”
The same piercing cry from the night before rang out in her head. My stars! She did not think she could handle another night in this strange house.
Something of importance had happened between the twins in the moment when Martin had left the room. Her heart still sped when she thought of how fierce Martin had been; his soft eyes had changed intensity, and she’d half expected him to howl. The transformation had frightened her. All five of the men towered above her, their shoulders as wide as a door and arms as big as the trees by the river. She was so small, so helpless surrounded by them. She did not for one instant think herself safe, as the butler had said, “in this house.”
4
Devon walked Jane from the dining hall. “My brothers are a bit rough, but they are all kind.”
She tilted up her head to assess his eyes. A cavalier playfulness swirled about him. He appeared the calmest of the brothers. Her muscles relaxed. She didn’t feel as skittish alone in his presence as she had surrounded by all the brothers.
“Did you sleep well? The storm—I mean, it was something, was it not?”
“Oh, quite. I awoke a few times but briefly.” Under no circumstance would she tell him, or anyone, her dreams. He would take her first for a simpleton and then for a wanton. The first may be true, but the second…. The image of the dark figure kneeling between her legs last night returned. Her face flushed with heat, and she bit her lip. Wicked, wicked thoughts. She was a wanton. She turned her attention back to Devon.
He nodded. “We all are quite nocturnal. It is odd to have us all assembled for the morning repast.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I—I hope you were not stirred from your bed for me.”
“I
