Free Jennifer August by Knight of the Mist Page A

me?” She perched at the edge of the chair, eager to flee, both the man and the reactions he stirred.
    He paused, the shirt halfway up his stomach and raised a quizzical brow. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as her eyes helplessly followed the trail of black hair over his rippling, muscular abdomen to below the snug waist of his leggings. He let the shirt drop, and she collapsed back against the chair, draining the cup in one fell swoop. These puzzling sensations disturbed her. She could not desire this man, could not want him to remain here at Falcon Fire. He was her enemy. Wasn’t he?
    “Why do you wish to know?”
    She looked past his shoulder to the tapestry of her parents’ wedding. “You said you already owned the land and the keep. Why did you wed with me, the daughter of a known traitor, I believe you said?”
    He shrugged. “I did not wish you to be cast into uncertain circumstances, ‘tis all.”
    “Why would you care?”
    “ Stirling , this discussion will aid us in no way. Come,” he reached down, pulling her to her feet and against his warm body. The heat nearly seared her, but ‘twas so inviting she shuddered even as she urged herself to move. She did not. She looked up at him, captivated by the glint in his gray eyes. They shone bright as a ceremonial sword. “Did your mother tell you of the marriage bed?”
    She did pull away then, embarrassment lending her strength. “Aye.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, stifling the heat that surged through them as he appraised her wolfishly.
    “And what did she tell you?”
    “Lucifer’s Hooves, Sir Norman, is this required? She told me the pertinent details, all I need to know of what shall occur. If you are so anxious to bed me, then do so and be done with it!” She stamped her foot and he chuckled. Narrowing her eyes and planting her fists on her hips only made him laugh harder. She whirled and headed for the door.
    “Hold, lady-wife.” The amusement still visible on his face now competed with a churning heat deep within his eyes. “I would have you speak my name.”
    She stiffened, not willing to give up this small rebellion, but knowing she must. Better this little thing if it would appease him, than a greater defeat. The hand restraining her gentled and he drew her to him, her back against his chest, his arm resting just above her breasts. She could not breathe. The inevitable, the unknown was nearly at hand. She tried to dissuade him one last time.
    “Please, Lord Quinn, I beg you, give me time to adjust myself to this marriage. You must admit the newness of this --”
    “Nay, lady-wife.” He turned her slowly. “The time for words is done.” Quinn slanted his mouth to hers, his kiss a slow and thorough exploration.
    His lips, surprisingly gentle, caressed hers until she sighed with confused delight. This was wrong, she could not want him. But she did. He deepened the kiss, rubbing her tongue with his and sweeping the recesses of her mouth. Though the new sensation was not unpleasant, Stirling trembled with the shocking pleasure he evoked and tried to maintain control, but his caress drove her to the brink. Suddenly she yearned for his touch even as she fought against it. Her tenuous hold shattered when he untied the laces of her gown and chemise and his warm hand splayed against her bare back. She arched against his chest, the swirling tempest growing stronger within her. A warning echoed in the back of her mind, she must not succumb to this invader, but the temptation he presented proved too strong and she closed her ears to the whisper.
    “ Stirling ,” Quinn’s voice was a low, warm growl against her mouth.
    “Aye,” she whispered, giving herself up to his tender ministrations. Though not the man of her choosing, she could not deny the fire that swept through her at Quinn’s touch. And she would not deny him – or herself – this night.
    He pushed the gown off her shoulders and past her hips until she stood in