He headed in the direction that she had run and soon caught sight of her slim form racing across the field in front of him. Damn, she was nicely shaped. Better than nice.
Focus on the task.
When he was only steps behind her, she glanced back, eyes flashing in fear behind scholarly glasses. He leapt, wrapping an arm around her waist, and tackled her to the ground, careful to twist and take the brunt of the fall. She struggled in his arms like a hellcat, all claws and writhing woman.
“Settle down,” he said as she nearly ended any hope of future children. He rolled her beneath him to still her struggles.
“Get off me!” Her voice broke.
“I’m here to help you.” Her struggles caused her soft thighs to part, allowing him to settle between them. He stifled a groan.
Her hair tangled around their arms as he wrestled her wrists above her head, trying to keep her neat but sharp claws away from his eyes.
Finally, he caught sight of her. Little black glasses over angry brown eyes. Sexy librarian glasses. Christ. And lush, pink lips that formed curses far more inventive than he’d expected to come from such an innocent looking face. Close up, her hair appeared to be a pale red.
At first glance, she was nothing like the woman he’d known, who’d possessed a strong, raw type of beauty. Boudica was a blur in his memory now. Had been for centuries.
But this woman was very different. Delicate and soft where Boudica had been strong and fierce. Not a beautiful face, but a compelling one. One from which he couldn’t look away.
Her struggles did nothing but make him more intimately aware of her form. Made his cock more aware of her closeness. He stifled a groan. She was curvier than he’d noticed when she’d run across the field. Too soft to be a warrior. Her panting breaths pressed her small breasts in a tantalizing rhythm against his chest. The feel of her made his heart punch against his ribs, so loudly it echoed in his eardrums.
He recognized her. Not her form, or her voice, but something in her called to him, caused long-dead desires to flood him. After Boudica’s death, women had come in a seemingly endless stream of nothing. Looking at her now drove the wisps of their memories from his mind.
Something in Boudica had connected to his soul. It had been severed when she’d died, and a part of him had died with her.
Nay, this woman was far different from the one he’d known, but it didn’t seem to matter. He’d felt dead for two millennia, but here, lying in the grass atop this woman, his woman, made him feel alive again. He would do anything to protect her. Even if he couldn’t keep her.
She heaved up and head-butted him in the forehead.
Ow! That had hurt. Right, no more head-butting.
It hadn’t even fazed the giant of a man who loomed over her, his strong jaw set. His face was cast in shadows, giving him a sinister air despite the evenness of his features. He was handsome in a rough way, with dark hair and eyes, and for some reason, it scared her even more. Evil should be visible on the surface. Diana’s heart beat so fast that it felt like it might vibrate right out of her chest.
“Let me go!” She thrashed beneath him, pushing against the broad wall of his chest. Futile. He was huge, his muscular form pinning her to the grass, trapping her like a bird in the paws of a greedy feline.
He stared down at her, searching her face as if he thought he should recognize her. Her breath caught when the confusion in his gaze morphed into desire. Don’t look at me like that. But she shivered. Visions of him kissing her flashed through her mind even as it chanted get off, get off, get off!
Did she have some type of fetish for men who scared her? It was sick. She should fight him.
But even as her heart pounded, the chill that thrilled along her nerves began to falter. She should be scared, and she was, but she could swear there was something familiar about him.
He removed his left hand from her wrist, but she wasn’t fast enough. He trapped both hands above her head with his right hand and ran his other hand down her waist to her hip. He squeezed and her stomach dipped. The smell of crushed grass wafted around her, mingling with his heady, masculine scent.
He was looking at her like he’d been waiting to see her for ages, but when he slid his hand back up her waist, she tensed.
“What’s your name?” His voice rasped over her nerve endings.
He was attacking her. She should be afraid of him. But her body wasn’t, almost as though it recognized him. No. She was stronger than her body, and this was madness.
“Get off me!” She thrust her knee upward, nailing him between the legs.
He cursed, and a grimace twisted his handsome features.
She used his shock to her advantage and funneled her anger and fear into a great shove against his chest. He’d dropped his guard, and she was able to wriggle out from under him. She scrambled on the wet grass, then heaved to her feet and sprinted down the field.
Desperate to reach the dim yellow streetlights ahead, she pumped her arms faster, breath sawing in and out of her lungs as she ran. The lights ahead glowed, beckoning. If she could just reach the lights...
Footsteps pounded behind her, sending her heart into her throat. They were coming fast. Way too fast. No escape. She was swept up into his arms before the thought left her mind.