Read Online Powerful Magic by Karen Whiddon - Free Book Online Page B

shivered. Though he'd behaved like a gentleman, she knew her own wayward thoughts had been less than ladylike.   The sooner she could get away from him, the better.   But for now she needed him to help her search.   Not for Roger, as he thought, but for the gateway to her time.   She had to get home, back to the twentieth century where she belonged.  
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
               Watching her, Kenric wondered if he'd imagined the look of contempt in her beautiful eyes.   If she despised him, he could not blame her.   All women had a right to expect a man that would defend them.  
               Not that he wouldn't, he simply did not plan to kill again if he could help it.   And, as long as he was the only one who knew she was a woman, he should not have to.   No one ever bothered lowly squires.   As a boy she was safe.   Now, if only he could make his body forget the truth of it.
               Thoughts of the coming night had his blood pounding heavy and slow.   He wondered if he should hold her again, wondered if she would want him to, wondered if he dared.  
               When she came back inside, shivering from the cold, all caution left him.   Holding out his arms, he waited until she was nestled snugly against him before lying back on the saddle-blanket.   Now he had but to prove that his mind could control his body.
               She sighed, shifting once, then relaxed.   The fire burned low, the dim orange glow making nameless shadows dance on the cave walls.  
               Gradually, her shivering stopped as their bodies generated heat.   He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the floral, feminine scent of her.   A strand of her hair tickled his nostril; he brought his hand up to push it away.   Somehow he found himself caressing the silky smoothness of her boyishly short hair.  
               Her breathing caught.   Kenric found himself straining to hear her take another breath.   When she did, it was a harsh one, low and very nearly a moan.   His body responded instantly, and he cursed under his breath.  
               Still, he did not move his hand.  
               With another half sigh, she relaxed into his massage.   Eyes closed, she arched against him, a sleepy kitten under his fingers.   The thin blanket shifted, his gaze went to her breasts and his breath caught in his throat.   Her nipples were large, hard like pebbles, inviting the touch of his hand or his mouth.   If she moved again, she would know how she affected him.
               He wanted her beyond all reason.
               Yet she was the intended bride of this Roger, the man who would, for her safe return, gift him with his heart's desire.  
               Land.   He must remember that Roger would not take kindly to Kenric deflowering his woman.
               He forced himself to think of the land, always the land.   There would be other women.   There would not be another chance like this.
               Reluctant, his body straining against the front of his
    braes, Kenric deposited her gently on the blanket and pushed himself to his feet.   He kept himself turned away from her, not wanting her to see his arousal.
               "Kenric?"   Her voice sounded low, husky and sensual.   "Where are you going?"
               Though he knew he shouldn't, he could not keep from looking back over his shoulder at her.   The firelight flickered over her tousled hair.   She had the look of a woman badly in need of a man.  
               In disbelief, Kenric felt himself grow harder.   Shaking his head, he headed out the small cave opening into the blowing snow and icy air.  
               Later, much later, cold and disgruntled, he returned to find her asleep.   Disdaining the warmth of the shared blanket,