was consumed by the struggle to breathe, until a huge shudder racked her and her stunned lungs finally expanded. With the battle for breath won, she channeled her energy against the weight pinning her to the tree. Twisting and shoving, she managed to turn and face her attacker, whose hand clamped hard over her mouth. As he drew back to look at her, she found herself staring up into a pair of hot black eyes framed by an angular face and a mane of unruly dark hair.
“You!” he snarled quietly, trying to contain her. “I should have known.”
There was no mistaking the owner of that irritable voice, but it was a moment more before she would trust her senses and cease struggling.
“What—”
“Hush!” he whispered, raising his head to examine the darkness around them, evaluating every rustle, sway, and chirp in the now-quiet forest. He was pressed so tightly against her that she could feel the tension coiled in his big frame and the control he exerted over every breath.
“Have you no sense at all?” She felt a contraction tighten his loins and ripple its way up through him. “You were attacked in these woods mere hours ago, and here you are wandering around alone in the dark!”
“And what are
you
doing out here?” She matched his furious whisper, wishing her crazed heart would slow and hoping he couldn’t feel the way it was pounding. “Skulking around the woods at night—”
“I was posting a night watch, and Mattias reported that one of the ‘Sisters’ came out into the trees and hadn’t returned.”
“So you came charging out here like a lunatic, chased me, and knocked the very living breath out of me?”
“You could have been one of the brigands, back for another try.”
“Do I look like an outlaw?” She grabbed the edge of her veil and held it up. “How many brigands do you know who wear a religious habit while stealing and pillaging?”
“I couldn’t see your cursed hab—”
“I nearly broke an ankle back there.” Her bodily complaints and outrage both grew. “I’m scratched all over … my habit is picked and torn and probably filthy … and my face …” She reached up to feel for additional damage and realized her hand was stinging. “Owww.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I must have found a patch of briers along the way.”
He seized her hand, and when she complained, his touch gentled.
“I don’t feel any blood.” He slid his fingers over her palm, sending a shiver up her arm. “You’ll survive.”
“You sound disappointed,” she snapped, trying to pull her hand away.
“On the contrary,” he said with a sneer that was not quite up to his usual standard. “I can’t afford to … to have one of you … ‘matrimonial pearls-of-great-price’ … damaged while in my care.”
Standing there in the dappled moonlight with him pressed emphatically against her body and rubbing slow, deliberate circles on her palm with his thumb, she grew confused. Then she looked up and his shadow-softened features began to brand themselves into her impressionable senses. Lisette’s and Alaina’s words came back to her. Tall … strong … courageous … dutiful … he was the paragon of knightly perfection. Her awareness broadened to include the sensation of his battle-seasoned body molded against hers. The overwhelming warmth and hardness of him were so new and compelling that for a time they distorted her thinking. Handsome … intense … physically gifted and stirring to watch … he was also a prime slice of masculinity. And here he was in the dark with her … pressed tightly against her … filling her vision … breathing his strange, spicy heat into her head and lungs …
Why?
Out of nowhere came the voice of a little “abbess” inside her.
Why was he still pressed against her? Especially when he’d made it so clear that he found her objectionable?
Did it matter? She silenced that inner abbess. He was here with her and this bodily contact with him was so pleasurable.
“You!” he snarled quietly, trying to contain her. “I should have known.”
There was no mistaking the owner of that irritable voice, but it was a moment more before she would trust her senses and cease struggling.
“What—”
“Hush!” he whispered, raising his head to examine the darkness around them, evaluating every rustle, sway, and chirp in the now-quiet forest. He was pressed so tightly against her that she could feel the tension coiled in his big frame and the control he exerted over every breath.
“Have you no sense at all?” She felt a contraction tighten his loins and ripple its way up through him. “You were attacked in these woods mere hours ago, and here you are wandering around alone in the dark!”
“And what are
you
doing out here?” She matched his furious whisper, wishing her crazed heart would slow and hoping he couldn’t feel the way it was pounding. “Skulking around the woods at night—”
“I was posting a night watch, and Mattias reported that one of the ‘Sisters’ came out into the trees and hadn’t returned.”
“So you came charging out here like a lunatic, chased me, and knocked the very living breath out of me?”
“You could have been one of the brigands, back for another try.”
“Do I look like an outlaw?” She grabbed the edge of her veil and held it up. “How many brigands do you know who wear a religious habit while stealing and pillaging?”
“I couldn’t see your cursed hab—”
“I nearly broke an ankle back there.” Her bodily complaints and outrage both grew. “I’m scratched all over … my habit is picked and torn and probably filthy … and my face …” She reached up to feel for additional damage and realized her hand was stinging. “Owww.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I must have found a patch of briers along the way.”
He seized her hand, and when she complained, his touch gentled.
“I don’t feel any blood.” He slid his fingers over her palm, sending a shiver up her arm. “You’ll survive.”
“You sound disappointed,” she snapped, trying to pull her hand away.
“On the contrary,” he said with a sneer that was not quite up to his usual standard. “I can’t afford to … to have one of you … ‘matrimonial pearls-of-great-price’ … damaged while in my care.”
Standing there in the dappled moonlight with him pressed emphatically against her body and rubbing slow, deliberate circles on her palm with his thumb, she grew confused. Then she looked up and his shadow-softened features began to brand themselves into her impressionable senses. Lisette’s and Alaina’s words came back to her. Tall … strong … courageous … dutiful … he was the paragon of knightly perfection. Her awareness broadened to include the sensation of his battle-seasoned body molded against hers. The overwhelming warmth and hardness of him were so new and compelling that for a time they distorted her thinking. Handsome … intense … physically gifted and stirring to watch … he was also a prime slice of masculinity. And here he was in the dark with her … pressed tightly against her … filling her vision … breathing his strange, spicy heat into her head and lungs …
Why?
Out of nowhere came the voice of a little “abbess” inside her.
Why was he still pressed against her? Especially when he’d made it so clear that he found her objectionable?
Did it matter? She silenced that inner abbess. He was here with her and this bodily contact with him was so pleasurable.
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