Free Knight's Prize by Sarah McKerrigan Page B

at someone's
jest, and the blend of that delightful sound and the sweet wine flowing down
her throat caused a fuzzy, buzzing feeling to wash over her like warm rain.
Everything seemed so pleasant. The great hall was bright and cheery. The food
was tasty and plentiful. Everyone was perfectly content. She didn't know what
she'd been so worried about.
    She
giggled happily, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Holy Rood, had that burp
come out of her?
    Rand
grinned at her, and she grinned back. Lord, she thought, looking askance at him
and running a finger lazily around the rim of her flagon, he was a handsome
man. His eyes looked like polished topaz. The dimples in his cheeks were
adorable. And his mouth...
    Sweet
Mary, she wanted to kiss him.
    She
was going to tell him so.
    She
leaned close to whisper in his ear, balancing herself with a hand atop his leg.
The sudden flare of his nostrils told her 'twas more than his leg she touched.
    She
should have snatched her hand back at once. But the wine must have slowed her
reflexes. And ruined her judgment.
    His
loins felt warm and yielding beneath her palm, and her lips curved up as she
remembered how dark and mysterious, forbidden and beautiful he'd looked to her
when he'd unlaced his trews in the forest. Nay, she didn't want to unhand him
just yet.
    ************************************
    Rand
felt pure lust shudder his bones. Surely Miriel hadn't meant to touch him
there. 'Twas only a slip of her hand. But the naughty lass didn't seem in a
hurry to remove that hand.
    Not
that he wanted her to. There was naught quite as thrilling as the brazen touch
of a desirable woman. Her palm cradled his rapidly swelling loins with gentle
coaxing as she seduced him with her sultry gaze.
    Still,
'twas neither the time nor place for such play, not with a dozen pairs of
watchful eyes studying Rand's every move.
    'Twas
his own fault, he supposed. It had been his idea to get her drunk in the hopes
of loosening her tongue. There was something unnatural and highly suspicious
about the way Miriel had snatched that flagon in midair, and he intended to
find out how she'd acquired such reflexes.
    But
Miriel was a wee lass, and a half dozen cups of wine were apparently enough to
do more than loosen her tongue. Indeed, it seemed to have transformed the
mild-mannered maid into a wild and wanton she-beast.
    Not
that he minded. Especially when she gazed at him, as she did now, with fiery
longing.
    But
her father need only glance down, and her sisters need only glimpse Miriel's
expression, to determine what was afoot.
    With
great reluctance, he caught her stray hand and moved it, gently but firmly,
back to her own lap. As soon as he did, her brow furrowed with bewilderment,
and her lower lip began to tremble.
    Her
wide blue eyes filled with tears, and her delicate chin started quivering. He
feared at any moment she might burst into loud sobs. Deirdre frowned, noticing
her sister's distress. Even at a distance, Sung Li's accusing stare burned into
Rand.
    He
had to do something.
    He
lifted her hand again to press it fondly against his cheek. "Miriel, my
love," he said in concern, "you look weary. Would you like me to
escort you to your chamber now?"
    She
blinked at him as if he'd spoken to her in another language, then gushed
hopefully, "My chamber?"
    Of
course, that brought the table to silence. Several sets of expectant eyes
suddenly glared at him. And the gleam of desire that flared anew in Miriel's
eyes didn't help. Her family no doubt imagined he'd offered to ravish her.
    "Miriel?"
Deirdre asked.
    Miriel
wasn't going to help matters, not with her lusty gaze. He'd have to clarify his
intentions himself.
    "After
all," he told her, loudly enough for everyone to hear, including that
prying Sung Li, "you have a busy day on the morrow. You need your
sleep."
    "Sleep?"
Miriel complained. "But I don't—"
    Quickly,
sure she was about to say something incriminating, Rand helped her up from the
table.
    Before
he could make