brilliant pigments. She could not resist sketching her future name, Brianna de Beauchamp, surrounded by hearts and flowers. A shiver of delight ran through her body when she thought of her betrothed and recalled the intensity of his turquoise eyes when they had gazed into hers at Berkhamsted.
Suddenly Brianna gasped aloud, “Turquoise … aquamarine!” She realized Robert de Beauchamp must be the knight of her dreams; the unusual shade of his eyes was identical! She let out her breath in a sigh of longing. Could this really be happening to her? Was she fortunate enough to become the bride of the irresistible phantom knight of her dreams? If it was so, she thanked St. Agnes with all her heart for sending the vision. She moved dreamily toward the bed and turned back the covers with impatient fingers. Would he come to her tonight? The sooner she was abed, the sooner the dream would unfold. When at last her excitement calmed enough to allow sleep to claim her, the first knight to enter her dream was Warrick. He loomed large and fierce as ever, but she was not afraid. “I am well pleased you are agreeable to a match with my son.” The vision of Warrick faded and his son stepped forward.
Brianna’s breath caught in her throat as the tall figure beckoned to her. As always, desire overwhelmed her. She went to him willingly, wanting him to touch her, to kiss her, to carry her off to a secret place. She was giddy with joy as their hands touched and she laughed up at him, gazing deeply into the compelling aquamarine eyes.
“You are mine at last … I have come to claim you.” His voice was deep and thrilling; his eyes smoldered with desire. He was large and hard and powerful, everything she’d ever wanted in a man. His face was so fiercely proud she could not resist tracing her finger over the wide, bold planes. She touched his cheekbones, ran her finger along his strong jawline, then dipped it into the cleft of his chin. When she succumbed to the temptation of touching hislips, he bit her. A deep thrill ran all the way up her arm and straight into her breast as if she had been pierced by Cupid’s arrow. Her sensual laughter floated all about them, teasing him, tempting him, begging him to take further liberties. His lips hovered above the beauty mark upon her slanting cheekbone. “Will you permit me to taste your witch-mark?”
Her mouth curved with pleasure and she lifted her face to receive his kiss of homage. His powerful arms swept about her, his palms cupped her bottom, and she felt one of his fingers touch her other beauty mark. “This is the one I want to taste.”
She saw his white teeth flash in a bold grin. No one had ever spoken so wickedly and intimately to her before, yet she loved it. Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she met boldness with boldness. “I’ll let you taste it on our wedding night.”
“If you make me wait until then, I’ll devour you,” he vowed.
Brianna’s voice turned husky. “If you make me wait longer for your kiss, I’ll scream.”
His mouth swooped down possessively, stopping a heartbeat from its goal for the pure pleasure of heightening her desire. Her lovely eyes flashed with an answering challenge as she opened her mouth to scream. The moment her lips parted his own closed about them in an act of total possession. His hot mouth branded her, claiming her as his own, now and forever. Brianna moaned in her sleep. The sound awakened her. Her eyes flew open. She was breathless. Her body tingled with her first arousal. The delicious dream lingered in her memory, its details so vivid she could still smell his male scent of sandalwood and almond. Her phantom knight was indeed Warrick’s son. His powerful physique and aquamarine eyes had proclaimed him a De Beauchamp, but her lover had not the golden coloring of Robert. His face had been fierce and swarthy. He had the dark, dangerous, and compelling beauty of Lucifer.
The Banqueting Hall at Windsor was impressive. A great
Suddenly Brianna gasped aloud, “Turquoise … aquamarine!” She realized Robert de Beauchamp must be the knight of her dreams; the unusual shade of his eyes was identical! She let out her breath in a sigh of longing. Could this really be happening to her? Was she fortunate enough to become the bride of the irresistible phantom knight of her dreams? If it was so, she thanked St. Agnes with all her heart for sending the vision. She moved dreamily toward the bed and turned back the covers with impatient fingers. Would he come to her tonight? The sooner she was abed, the sooner the dream would unfold. When at last her excitement calmed enough to allow sleep to claim her, the first knight to enter her dream was Warrick. He loomed large and fierce as ever, but she was not afraid. “I am well pleased you are agreeable to a match with my son.” The vision of Warrick faded and his son stepped forward.
Brianna’s breath caught in her throat as the tall figure beckoned to her. As always, desire overwhelmed her. She went to him willingly, wanting him to touch her, to kiss her, to carry her off to a secret place. She was giddy with joy as their hands touched and she laughed up at him, gazing deeply into the compelling aquamarine eyes.
“You are mine at last … I have come to claim you.” His voice was deep and thrilling; his eyes smoldered with desire. He was large and hard and powerful, everything she’d ever wanted in a man. His face was so fiercely proud she could not resist tracing her finger over the wide, bold planes. She touched his cheekbones, ran her finger along his strong jawline, then dipped it into the cleft of his chin. When she succumbed to the temptation of touching hislips, he bit her. A deep thrill ran all the way up her arm and straight into her breast as if she had been pierced by Cupid’s arrow. Her sensual laughter floated all about them, teasing him, tempting him, begging him to take further liberties. His lips hovered above the beauty mark upon her slanting cheekbone. “Will you permit me to taste your witch-mark?”
Her mouth curved with pleasure and she lifted her face to receive his kiss of homage. His powerful arms swept about her, his palms cupped her bottom, and she felt one of his fingers touch her other beauty mark. “This is the one I want to taste.”
She saw his white teeth flash in a bold grin. No one had ever spoken so wickedly and intimately to her before, yet she loved it. Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she met boldness with boldness. “I’ll let you taste it on our wedding night.”
“If you make me wait until then, I’ll devour you,” he vowed.
Brianna’s voice turned husky. “If you make me wait longer for your kiss, I’ll scream.”
His mouth swooped down possessively, stopping a heartbeat from its goal for the pure pleasure of heightening her desire. Her lovely eyes flashed with an answering challenge as she opened her mouth to scream. The moment her lips parted his own closed about them in an act of total possession. His hot mouth branded her, claiming her as his own, now and forever. Brianna moaned in her sleep. The sound awakened her. Her eyes flew open. She was breathless. Her body tingled with her first arousal. The delicious dream lingered in her memory, its details so vivid she could still smell his male scent of sandalwood and almond. Her phantom knight was indeed Warrick’s son. His powerful physique and aquamarine eyes had proclaimed him a De Beauchamp, but her lover had not the golden coloring of Robert. His face had been fierce and swarthy. He had the dark, dangerous, and compelling beauty of Lucifer.
The Banqueting Hall at Windsor was impressive. A great