Maggie Shayne - Twilight Series 02 by Twilight Memories

Author:Twilight Memories [Memories, Twilight]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-07T07:18:17+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

She was a fool. She must be, to be here with him like this. Even with the remorse flooding his mind, he

was aware of her. His body ached to join with hers once more, to find that blissful release that had

nearly

shattered the ice coating his heart. Just looking at her hands reminded him of how they'd felt stroking

his

arousal; like silk and firm and strong. So strong. The sight of her lips elicited the memory of the heat

and

moisture he'd found beyond them, the taste of her tongue. Beneath the thin silk blouse, she wore

nothing.

He found himself wondering if the brush of the fabric over her breasts would arouse her nipples to the

hard tautness of pebbles, and if it did, whether he could stop himself from tearing it off her, and sucking

at

them until she begged him to stop.

She wore tight-fitting denims, damn her. They were pressed as snugly between her silken thighs as his

body had been. He wanted to put his face into her lap and inhale her bittersweet fragrance. He wanted

to

taste her again, to become drunk on her own potent brand of spirits.

"Roland." Her voice was but a whisper. He saw her hand reaching up to him, and he took it. She tugged

until he sat beside her against the tree trunk. "Tell me," she urged again.

He nodded. "The tale is not a pleasant one, Rhiannon." Roland drew one bracing breath and prepared

himself for her reactions. "After the battle of which I told you, I longed only to return home. To put

aside

my sword and my lust for violence forever." He paused, looking for a long moment into her fathomless

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eyes. She would, no doubt, detest him when he'd finished the tale. All the better. Perhaps she'd finally

get

some sense and leave him alone for good.

"But when I did, it was to find my father's enemies at the castle. The Baron Rosbrook and his clan had

taken it." He closed his eyes at the memory. The first sight to welcome him upon returning home had

been the crumbled outer wall, then the charred, blackened section of the castle that had been burned.

Rhiannon's hand touched his face. "Your family?"

"Murdered." The single word carried little emphasis. But words could not describe what he'd felt that

day. Looking like a man, but with the fears and the heart of a boy, he'd crossed the barren courtyard in

time to see them cut his father's limp body down from the gallows, and toss it atop the others in a

rickety

wagon. He'd stood motionless, unable to believe that what he saw was real as the wagon clattered past

him, and beneath the raised portcullis. Like a man entranced, he'd turned and followed, until the wagon

stopped near the lip of a steep embankment. And one by one, the bodies had been flung over the side.

He began to tremble again, just as he had then. He wanted to shut out the memory, as he'd wanted to

turn his eyes away from the heartrending sight all those years ago. And just as before, he was unable to

do so.

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