Castle of the Wolf by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Desire, lust and longing seized Tamsin.

This was the man she dreamed of in the night, taking her to his bed and claiming her for his own. This was the man whose kisses stirred her, whose arms she yearned for, whose body she craved. This warrior, this man in his prime, not some ancient villain or heartbroken older man.

Yet there was more than lust in her heart as she returned his kiss passion for passion. For so long she had yearned to be loved, and when she had dreamed of marrying, she had hoped it would be to a man she could admire and respect as well as love.

Rheged had begun with even less than she. He’d worked and struggled and survived, overcoming deprivation, hardship and the disadvantage of his lowly birth. Yet she could see beyond the face he showed the world, to a heart as full of loneliness and longing as her own. Yes, he was hard and tough and proud, but so was she. In that, they were equals, as she was with no other.

And so she would surrender to this man, this warrior, and give herself up to the pleasure and desire and need coursing through her, at least for a few all-too-brief moments.

Sliding her hands under his shirt and tunic, her palms brushed lightly over his broad chest and around his back, his scars like ridges beneath her fingertips. His hand grazed her bodice, sending a new wave of excitement coursing through her—dangerous excitement. She wanted more; she wanted him. They were alone, with his bed behind her.

Yet she must not ask for more. If she gave Rheged her body, she would have nothing left save her title. That loss would be too much to exchange for a few moments of bliss, even with him.

“No!” she cried as she pushed him away, the command as much for her as for him. “This must stop. You mustn’t kiss me. Or touch me, ever again!”

His eyes narrowed. “What game is this, my lady?”

Game? She wasn’t toying with him like those silly noblewomen who flirted and preened and pranced about when there were men to see them. “This is no game to me, sir, nor should it be to you. I’m not free and neither are you. I have my name and reputation to think of, as you have yours. Have you not done enough to harm both of ours—and Sir Algar, too?”

Ire replaced desire in his eyes as he sat on the bed and tugged on his boots. “I have never sought to harm you, my lady, as you should know by now,” he said, then rose to finish dressing, “nor have I any inclination for flirtation and other such sport.”

He started for the door, only to turn back on the threshold and regard her with that cold reserve she had seen before. “Nor have I acted without encouragement, either here or on the road or in your uncle’s castle. Nevertheless, we shall call an end to...” Although he hesitated for an instant, his expression did not change.

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