Silence filled the air; not even the sound of cutlery clashing against plates could be heard. Keenan felt her pulse as his palm rounded her neck, covering every inch. Her neck was smaller than his palm. Her lips parted, and she stared up at him with horror mixed with surprise.
He stared down at her, his brows furrowed and his gaze harsh. Irritation filled him at her reaction. What was so shocking about his actions? But even more, he was irritated by the sudden inclination to touch her.
She looked pathetic. The awful gray dress she wore made her look no better than a lowly servant. Yet, somehow she lacked the air of one. Even through her peasant attire, one could see she was not like any servant.
Her skin was soft underneath his rough palm; it was clearly a combination that didn't mix. Her fair skin was nothing compared to his tanned skin. He knew if he took her palms, they would be just as soft as the rest of her.
It ticked him off. Everything about her grated on his nerves.
