Chapter 19
Cuan woke to a crushing sense of impending doom.
He lay absolutely motionless, keeping his breathing deep and even so as to betray no sign that he was no longer asleep. He concentrated on senses other than sight; the slight press of weight on his body, the faint movement of air over his bare skin.
Assess the situation, decades of experience as a warrior told him. Size up the enemy. Make no move until you are ready to strike.
Unfortunately, this was one opponent he would never be ready to face.
Cuan opened his eyes.
As he’d feared, Angus was sitting on his chest. The dog’s beady black eyes bored into his own. Cuan was abruptly, painfully aware of the exposed line of his throat, mere inches away from Angus’s jaws.
“Tamsin,” Cuan said in the barest whisper, never taking his eyes from the hound. “Tamsin. Wake up.”
She mumbled something, snuggling closer. Her warm, soft breasts pressed against his bicep. At any other time, this would have been an extraordinarily pleasant sensation. In the current circumstances, Cuan was more concerned with the fact that she was pinning down his sword-arm.
Angus’s eyes narrowed. His jaws opened, exposing tiny but razor-sharp teeth. Cuan silently commended his soul to the Shining Ones.
The dog pounced.
“Ack!” Cuan spluttered, his face full of wet pink tongue.
He flailed, nearly knocking Tamsin off the bed. Rather understandably, she shrieked, flinging her limbs around him.
Now Cuan had a face full of slobbering hound and a naked woman attempting to attach herself to him like an amorous octopus. Again, the latter would have been much more enjoyable without the former.
“Wha? Who—Cuan!” Tamsin’s fingers clenched on his shoulder. “Are we under attack?”
“I am,” Cuan said, from underneath both her and the dog. “From multiple angles. Help?”
Tamsin sat up, straddling him. She pushed back her hair, blinking down groggily. Her position gave him a glorious view of the underside of her full, lush breasts. Alas, it was difficult to properly appreciate with a canine tongue enthusiastically excavating his ear.
Tamsin’s mouth stretched into an enchanting grin. To Cuan’s infinite relief, she captured Angus, lifting him away.
“Hi baby,” she said to the dog. She planted a kiss on his wet black nose. “So you’ve decided you like Cuan after all, huh?”
“I believe I preferred it when he hated me.” Cuan wiped his face with the nearest fur—or at least, the nearest one that wasn’t Angus. “Do I also get a good morning kiss?”
Tamsin smirked at him over the top of Angus’s head. “I thought you just did.”
“I was hoping for one that was less moist.”
She giggled and leaned down. Her nipples brushed against his chest as her mouth found his.
He wound a hand into her hair, pulling her deeper. The sweet warmth of her lips gave him an intense interest in exploring other soft, wet places, at very great length.
Angus wriggled between them, and yapped.
Cuan sighed, regretfully releasing Tamsin. “I must see to your faithful hound, much as I would like to attend to other matters first. Some things do not benefit from an audience.”
Tamsin giggled again. “Yeah, he’d probably pee on us in outrage halfway through.”
She yawned, stretching. This did riveting things to her chest area. Cuan was doubly regretful for Angus’s continued presence.
Still, horses and hounds needed to be fed before one broke one’s fast. Or attended to other appetites.
“Stay in bed,” he said, giving Tamsin another kiss as he got up. “I shall see to his needs, and bring back breakfast.”