Free A Wanton's Thief by Titania Ladley

choice.”
    “No…” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
    Yes! Her mind shouted out the contradiction. It was as if two people resided in her mind, screaming at one another in constant opposition.
    “Must I also take your voice from you, Salena?”
    She shook her head. “No. I wish to at least be able to tell you how much I hate you as you force yourself upon me.”
    His expression didn’t so much as flinch. “You can tell me you hate me all you want. You can tell me no, as well. You can deny that you want me with your voice. But we both know you only deceive yourself—do not forget I can hear your thoughts. And we both know, as well, that it will not ever be forced between us, but a fiery, passionate mating that will meld our souls into one. Yes, it is ultimately your choice whether or not you welcome me between your legs. I never have and never will force my powers upon a woman to conquer her. It never has been necessary. And this case is no different…since it is apparent your wanton soul will prevail over your prim façade of propriety.”
    Salena warred simultaneously with the hate that filled her heart and desire. It was simply alarming how easily he could ignite passion in her by his mere words. There was no eluding him, no eluding herself. In spite of her morals, of her almost-virginal state, she wanted this man to show her the delights of the flesh. She’d wanted it, she suddenly realized with shocking honesty, from the first moment she’d glimpsed him at the king’s tournament. Most certainly, she’d taken leave of her emotional senses since she’d been assaulted by the sight of him kneeling on her bed in her chamber. Deep down, she’d seen herself there with him instantly, rolling across the bed, locked in a fiery embrace she never wished to be set free from.
    So why fight a battle she could not win?
    The internal admission stunned her, yet it made it all the easier for her to rise and go to the fireplace. Her movements were slow, perfunctory. She ceased her steps and stared at the small stone mantel, wondering how one dull, ordinary night in her chambers had come to this, to a wanton surrendering to a thief, to her handsome, ruthless captor. Yes, she had the option to say no, and she somehow trusted that he would honor her wishes. But the combat with her own curiosity and depravity proved more futile than battling even the weakest of his sorcerer’s spells.
    And so, with her back to him, she slowly untied her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. Unhurriedly, almost sensuously, she laid it across the stone rise before the fire. Next came the nightrail and boots. The swish of the damp fabric preceded the sudden heat of the fire on her naked skin…and the heat of his gaze upon her bare backside.
    Already, her nipples stood in tight anticipation, while her clitoris engorged and pulsed with an aching sensation that took her breath from her lungs. Her heart thumped wildly, and she wondered if she’d still have the will to surrender if he hadn’t cast his powers over her. Yes, the ultimate choice was hers, but for now, he continued to wield his authority over her just to see her dry and safe from illness.
    Would she have disrobed from the damp clothing if not for his forced, magical order to do so? For the love of England, surely not! She could still want him, fantasize about him, but she’d never have willingly rendered herself vulnerable and given in to him if it weren’t for this wicked, carnal sorcery he wielded over her. But that small bit of self-assurance dissolved through the sieve of his next command, one accompanied by the tingle of release of the spell. No longer under his powers, it was now her choice. God, how she suddenly longed for the spell to claim her again, to give her the excuse to salvage her reputation and pride!
    “Turn around.”
    Drawing in a bout of courage, she inhaled the oddly pleasing aroma of smoke mixed with the food in the basket Lance had brought. But bravery