Duncan eyed Caitriona as she plastered him with a beguiling smile that never quite reached her eyes. Her meeting with Hawkins’ officer had been more than mere polite political civility. No. If he was a betting man, he’d wager his starship on the fact that she was negotiating with Hawkins’ man for passage home. He could feel the fury explode behind his eyes. She had no idea what level of manipulative mastery Hawkins would stoop to for his own gain. Not to mention there was only one man skilled enough to maneuver a starship through a wormhole—if they could even find one. Hawkins knew this.

Duncan ran a hand through his thick black hair and sighed. He could sequester Caitriona until he could dispose of Hawkins and end the war. But he knew it was unlikely Caitriona would agree to his extremes.

“I think ye’ve had enough air for one evening,” he bristled. His arm touched her elbow with every intent of seeing her inside, but he felt her stiffen at the contact. He dropped his hand and motioned her toward the plaza, a scowl creeping across his hard features. Why couldn’t she trust him?

She arched one eyebrow at him but said nothing. Gathering her skirt in one hand, she started to brush past him, but her easy dismissal of him rankled him. Grabbing her waist, he spun her around so that she was mere inches from him. Her breath was soft and honey-sweet against his chest. Her large, green eyes challenged him, yet he thought he saw something else…regret? Disappointment? It passed quickly and was replaced with the guarded contempt that nearly always shadowed her flawless features. He inhaled sharply and steeled himself for the battle he knew was coming.

“Caitriona, don’t do this,” he whispered.

“Do what?” she hissed. “My part to end this war? I thought that’s what you wanted.” The double entendre was not lost on him as he recalled her unintentional confession the night before.

“Hawkins doesn’t negotiate,” he growled.

“Everyone has a price, Duncan.”

“What are ye hinting at, Caitriona?” he spat, tired of their game of cat and mouse. He was ending this game.

“Never mind,” she said, pushing past him once again.

“Caitriona!” His tone was sharp and he could feel the tick in his jaw that was an ever-present reminder of his carefully controlled warrior’s rage. He had never felt this much ire for one woman, but somehow Caitriona managed to get under his skin and drive him mad. It was this same passion that drove them in the bedroom. He grabbed her arm, effectively halting her exit once again.

She looked at his hand then glanced up at him, her irritation barely concealed. He needed to get a handle on this situation now. Sighing, he looked deep into the emerald depths of her eyes, trying to imagine the fear and isolation she was struggling to keep locked away.

“Lass,” he started, trying for a softer approach that belied his warrior’s posture. She shifted her weight and eyed him suspiciously.

“Just don’t, Duncan,” she snapped.

He didn’t think. He reached his arm around her waist and pulled her against his hard chest. He didn’t give her time to pull away. Placing his hand on her neck, he covered her mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue sought hers out, tasting, thrusting, until he felt her relax against him. She met his kiss, her mouth seeking his. He needed this. He needed to feel that connection with her that only they shared. She groaned and undulated against his hips. He could feel himself growing hard and he briefly considered carrying her to his rooms. He needed to bury himself in her.

His hand swept through her hair, relishing the way the soft locks glided through his fingers. Sighing, he broke the kiss, instantly missing the way her soft lips opened beneath his persistent exploration. “Damnu,” he cursed. He was somehow inextricably tied to this powerful woman and yet he could not see any scenario in which they could be together.

She placed her palm on his chest, perhaps intending to push him away, but she only stayed there, staring into his eyes. He knew she was waiting for him to say something, but anything he would have said would have been an empty promise.

Dropping her eyes, she started to push away, but he held her tight. “Leannan, ye’ve already changed the course of this war. Ye’ve stopped Hawkins once, ye’ll stop him again. Yer getting more powerful by the day, lass. Dinna give up on me. Or the freedom that should be granted to all men.” He palmed her cheek, relishing the soft, velvety texture of her ivory skin. “Dinna give up on us, lass.” The last was barely more than a whisper.

“Duncan, we’ve had this conversation a hundred times. I’m not what you need.”

“Nay. Ye can stop this war, Leannan. Ye’ve proven that. Because of yer visions, Castle Dunrobin still stands. Because of yer visions, hundreds of Dwellers are safe. Because of yer visions, Hawkins’ armies were pushed back...”

“You fight a war where there can be no victory,” she interrupted.

“I fight for ye, Leannan, for my people, for future generations of gifted…I canna see any other way, can ye?”

“Nothing you’d care for,” she quipped.

He arched one eyebrow. “Try me, lass.”

He saw the heat rise to her face. Yes, my love, I know what yer planning, he thought, willing her to divulge her plan. He wanted her to trust him. He didn’t want there to be secrets between them and yet somehow, he knew that even as he hoped it, she wasn’t about to tell all. And, if he was being honest, neither could he. Oh, what a mess this was, he thought.

“There’s nothing,” she said, stepping away from him.

He started to protest but was interrupted by a young messenger. “Seńor,” the boy said, bowing low. “Your presence is requested for the second round of intercession.”

“I thought we’d agreed to reconvene tomorrow,” Duncan said, irritated by the interruption.

“Si, Seńor. But Seńor Hawkins said he has new information that he wants considered and has requested to immediately reconvene. He said it is his right.”

Duncan sighed. “Tell them I will be right there. I’m going to escort Caitriona to her quarters.”

“Seńor LaFelle asked me to stay with the lady until he arrived. He was coming from the estancia and said he would be here within minutes. He sent the guards as well.” The boy nodded over his shoulder where two armed guards stood with hands on weapons.

Duncan glanced at the two men. They didn’t look familiar to him, but their ranks had recently grown with the inclusion of several more bordering countries. It was nearly impossible to know each man personally—not like his own army, he thought.

“Dinna move,” he said to Caitriona. “Stay put until Nicolas gets here.”

“I’ll be fine, Duncan.”

He locked eyes with her and squeezed her hand. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, but his presence at intercession was a necessary part of the charade Hawkins had triggered. He kissed her cheek. “I mean it. Stay put.”

She gave him a lopsided grin.

Glancing once more at the guards, he nodded at Caitriona and took off in the direction of the council, the dark shadow of déjà vu settling once again around his heart.