She didn’t have a hat or a veil or anything in her hands. No one had offered so much as a single dried-out flower; she had nothing to hold onto to steady her shaking fingers. Her head pounded as hard and as painfully as her rapid heartbeat. She stood there, unable to move, staring at the man who waited at the end of the aisle. This unpredictable knight who hours ago had touched her, kissed her, caressed her in a way that still made her tremble, then sworn he would never do so again. This dark lord who despised her. This man she was about to marry.
His mouth captured hers with a strong, soft heat and Celine discovered something far sexier than this man’s voice or his body. His kiss. She never had the chance to think of a protest. To think at all. She had been kissed before, but never like this. It was neither awkward and teasing nor forceful and overpowering, but long, slow, confident, and devastating. It was as if he were binding them together, deftly drawing her soul into his.
Celine glanced up as she passed under an arch, at another of the chateau’s decorations, her personal favorite: the entwined letters G and R, carved over every doorway. Family legend had it that one of the original owners of the chateau, a knight by the name of Sir Gaston de Varennes, was responsible for that bit of artwork. Sir Gaston, it seemed, had been quite a ladies’ man—until he had met and married his wife, whom he loved so much, he had had her initial engraved with his in every castle he owned.
He cleared his throat. "I wish I could take back what I said." He looked away. "I behaved like a thoin aiseal.""What does that mean?""A donkey's arse."She glanced down at the furs, found herself fighting a smile. "And how do you pronounce that? I somehow suspect I may have need of that phrase again.
He drew her into his arms, gathering her close, and dusted kisses over her cheek, her hair. Wrapped in his embrace, Laurien closed her eyes, murmuring a sigh of exquisite satisfaction. A delightful drowsiness overtook her and she gave in to it, snuggled securely against Darach's chest, lying on a stolen wolf pelt, in the hold on a ship of thieves.
She clenched her fists. "I believe, milord, that I have endured my full limit of male tyranny." "I am afraid, milady, that you will have to become accustomed to it. It is the way of things, here in the world beyond your cloister." He turned her forward and nudged her to continue down the stairs. "This world would fall into chaos if women were allowed to do whatever they wished.
He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every part of her body had at once become brilliantly alive.His beard was a startling, silky roughness against her skin. His other hand came to rest at her waist, drawing her in tight, and her body seemed to meld to his hard, lean lines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her thoughts scattered. A sound escaped her, soft and deep, unlike any sound she had ever made in her life.Then his tongue touched her lower lip and she gave a startled little squeak.Her suddenly lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes midnight blue, his voice husky. "You have never even been kissed before, leannan. You are as innocent as the day you first set foot in the convent.
As I have said, milady, I mean to keep you safe, not harm you. And it is not my habit to force myself on unwilling maidens.""Aye, pilgrim?" she asked dubiously. "Next you will tell me you are as chaste as a monk." She backed toward the door.A grin slowly eased the hard line of his mouth. "I did not say that.
It had seemed entirely sensible at the time. A simple way to test the truth of her claim that she had lain with de Villiers. To show her that lying to him was useless. To make a point.Instead, he had ignited a desire that burned him like none he had ever felt before.He had expected Lady Laurien d'Amboise to be a timid little convent mouse. Quiet and passive and pliant. Easily manageable. Instead she was outspoken and strong-willed...and stunning in a way he could not even describe.An innocent beauty caught up in a deadly game that was none of her making....Malcolm rose to leave, chuckling."And what is there to laugh about?"Darach gave his jovial friend a dour look.Malcolm stopped just long enough to do his best imitation of Darach. "'Simple. Kidnap one French lass, hold her for a fortnight, and return her to de Villiers after he meets our demands. Perfectly simple.
... not within my memory.""All 300 years of it?"That comment earned her a frown."My apologies," she amended lightly. "I supposed I should not tease you about being so old.""Nay, feel free."His slow smile flashed in the moonlight."I would be happy to prove to you that I possess all the prowess and stamina of a man of 30. Mayhap I should demonstrate.