Grimm stared at her through the fog.

“Wh-what?” Jillian stammered, confused by the intensity with which he studied her. When he stepped toward her, she backed up slightly, drawing nearer the stone wall that encircled the church behind her.

“What if creatures like that really existed, Jillian?” he asked, his blue eyes glittering. He knew he shouldn’t tread on such dangerous territory, but here was a chance to discover her feelings without revealing himself.

“What do you mean?”

“What if it wasn’t fantasy?” he pushed. “What if there really were men who could do the things Edmund spoke of? Men who were part mythical beast—endowed with special abilities, skilled in the art of war, almost invincible. What would you think of such a man?”

Jillian studied him intently. “What an odd question. Do you believe such warriors exist, Grimm Roderick?”

“Hardly,” he said tightly. “I believe in what I can see and touch and hold in my hand. The legend of the Berserkers is nothing more than a foolish tale told to frighten mischievous children into good behavior.”

“Then why did you ask me what I would think if they did?” she persisted.

“It was just a hypothetical question. I was merely making conversation, and it was a stupid conversation. By Odin’s spear, lass—nobody believes in Berserkers!” He resumed walking, gesturing with an impatient scowl for her to follow.

They walked a few yards in silence. Then, without preamble, Grimm said, “Is Ramsay a fine kisser?”

“What?” Jillian nearly fell over her own feet.

“Ramsay, peahen. Does he kiss well?” Grimm repeated irritably.

Jillian battled the urge to beam with delight. “Well,” she drawled thoughtfully, “I haven’t had much experience, but in all fairness I’d have to say his kiss was the best I’ve ever had.”

Grimm instantly held her trapped her against him, between his hard body and the stone wall. He tilted her head back with a relentless hand beneath her chin. By the saints, how could the man move so quickly? And how delicious that he did.

“Let me help you put it in perspective, lass. But doona think for a minute this means anything. I’m just trying to help you understand there are better men out there. Think of this as a lesson, nothing more. I’d hate to see you wed to Logan simply because you thought he was the best kisser, when such a mistaken perception can be so easily remedied.”

Jillian raised her hand to his lips, barring him the kiss he threatened. “I don’t need a lesson, Grimm. I can make up my own mind. I loathe the thought of you putting yourself out, suffering on my behalf—”

“I’m willing to suffer a bit. Consider it a favor, since we were once childhood friends.” He clasped her hand in his and tugged it away from his lips.

“You were never my friend,” she reminded him sweetly. “You chased me away constantly—”

“Not the first year—”

“I thought you didn’t remember anything about me or your time at Caithness. Isn’t that what you told me? And I don’t need any favors from you, Grimm Roderick. Besides, what makes you so certain your kiss will be better? Ramsay’s positively took my breath away. I could scarcely stand when he was done,” she lied shamelessly. “What if you kiss me and it’s not as good as Ramsay’s kiss? Then what reason would I have for not marrying him?” Having thrown the gauntlet, Jillian felt as smug as a cat as she waited for the breathtaking kiss she knew would follow.

His expression furious, he claimed her mouth with his.

And the earthquake began beneath his toes. Grimm groaned against her lips as the sensation stripped his waning control.

Jillian sighed and parted her lips.

She was being kissed by Grimm Roderick, and it was everything she’d remembered. The kiss they’d shared so long ago in the stables had seemed a mystical experience, and over the years she’d wondered if she glorified it in her mind, only imagining that it had rocked her entire world. But her memory had been accurate. Her body came alive, her lips tingled, her nipples hardened. She wanted every inch of his body, in every way possible. On top of her, beneath her, beside her, behind her. Hard, muscled, demanding—she knew he was man enough to sate the endless hunger she felt for him.

She twined her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, then lost her breath entirely when he deepened the kiss. One hand cupped her jaw; the other slid down the bow of her spine, cupping her hips, molding her body tightly against his. All thought ceased as Jillian gave herself over to what had long been her greatest fantasy: to touch Grimm Roderick as a woman, as his woman. His hands were at her hips, pushing at her gown—and suddenly her hands were at his kilt, tearing at his sporran to get beneath it. She found his thick manhood and brazenly grasped its hardness through the fabric of his plaid. She felt his body stiffen against hers, and the groan of desire that escaped him was the sweetest sound Jillian had ever heard.