Gwen melted against him, parting her lips. There was no doubt about it; the man was an expert kisser. His kiss was demanding, aggressive, silky, hot, and hungry…and any minute now she’d feel the sizzle.
Any minute now, she thought, kissing him back with all of her heart.
He tasted of cinnamon and wine, and he kissed her with single-minded intensity, and still…no sizzle.
“Mmph,” she said against his mouth, meaning, Wait a minute, something’s not right. But if he heard her, he paid no mind and deepened the kiss.
Gwen’s head spun. Something was seriously wrong. Something about Drustan was different, and his kiss wasn’t affecting her as it usually did. Distantly, she heard the door open behind them and tried to draw back, but he wouldn’t let her.
Then she heard a roar and was dragged off Drustan by the other Drustan, with one steely arm about her waist, another around her neck.
She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she’d probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.
“What’s wrong with you?” Passion and irritation glittered in leather-trew-clad Drustan’s eyes.
“What’s wrong with me?” kilt-clad Drustan snapped. “What’s wrong with me is that this wench here, who was kissing you so ravenously, accused me of taking her virginity!” Kilt-clad Drustan dumped her on her feet between them. “I’m trying to save you, before she tangles you in her deceitful web.”
“I liked her deceitful web. It was hot and slippery, and all a lass should be,” Drustan-of-the-leather-trews growled.
Kilt-clad Drustan launched into a diatribe with a burr so thick she could scarcely understand a word he was saying, and Drustan of the trews began yelling back, and then Silvan poked his nose out of the castle to observe the fracas.
She’d lost her mind, she thought, watching with wide eyes. They stood nose to nose, arguing, while she plucked nervously at her gown, backed up a few steps, and listened, hoping to catch a word or two she might understand.
Observe. There is a logical explanation for this, the scientist insisted.
“Drustan. Dageus,” Silvan said reprovingly. “Stop your arguing this moment.”
Dageus! A ray of enlightenment pierced her confusion.
Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. It was one more thing Drustan hadn’t bothered to tell her—that he and his brother were identical twins. It seemed there were oodles of things he’d overlooked. He’d nearly given her a heart attack over this one. He certainly hadn’t made saving him easy.
She kicked the real Drustan in the shin. “You didn’t tell me you and your brother were twins.”
He continued arguing with Dageus as if she’d barely touched him, and no wonder with such flimsy little slippers. What she wouldn’t give for her hiking boots.
And now I have two problems, she thought. Dageus was still alive, which meant she had to prevent his death too. She was elated to have the opportunity to save Dageus, but she was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. Discovering the date was a serious priority, and she had to get her hands on Dageus’s itinerary. There was no way he could go anywhere near the Elliott’s estate.
Now that they were standing side by side, she could discern differences and would not mistake the two of them again. They weren’t quite identical, probably half-identical; polar body twins, giving them about seventy-five percent of the same DNA. Had the sun not been so bright behind him as he’d walked up, she might not have erred in the first place. Dageus was indeed an inch or two shorter, which still made him at least six foot four. His hair—which she hadn’t been able to see when he’d been walking toward her—pulled back in a thong as it was—was much longer, falling to his waist, and so black it was nearly blue. And their eyes were different, she thought, sidling closer between them, ducking wildly gesturing arms, to get a good look. Oh, and how, she thought, for as silvery as Drustan’s were, Dageus’s were yellow-gold.
Wow. All in all, two of the most gloriously handsome men she’d ever seen.
Drustan stopped cursing and glowered at her. “Who are you?” he demanded, finally rubbing his shin.
“I’ve been trying to tell you, but the moment you hear something you don’t like, do you ask questions to try to clear it up?” she demanded, hands on her hips and glaring back at him. “No. Not even one. You behave like a barbarian.” Not that she’d done much better, but wiser to go on the offensive than justify her own failings. “I thought you were smarter than that.”