Free Rexanne Becnel by Dove at Midnight Page A

and prickly heather, but pressed to the earth as they were, the impending storm seemed to surround them yet still not quite touch them. His dark hair lifted around his face, flying in the strong gusts. But he seemed oblivious to it. He only stared down at her with that same perplexed expression as he coiled one of her ringlets around his finger.
    As the moment stretched out almost unbearably between them, Joanna felt an involuntary current of heat well up inside her. From the deepest recesses of her belly it surged outward, warming her blood and causing her skin to flush a rosy pink. For an instant she wasn’t afraid—at least not in the same way she had been. A fragmented memory of Winna and the fowler flashed through her mind, but those two were swiftly forgotten as she stared up into the midnight blue of his eyes. He seemed to be devouring her with his dark inscrutable stare, and her heart’s pace sped up even more. Then his head lowered and she gasped.
    “What—what are you doing?” she cried, trying her best to hold him back. Against her hands she could feel the pounding of his heart, and it seemed a dreadfully intimate discovery.
    At her words he stopped, but his face was so near hers she could feel the warmth of his breath and the brush of his hair. Then he pulled back and a scowl replaced his previously unfathomable expression.
    “What I’m doing,” he muttered in a voice gone low and husky, “is taking you to Blaecston.” He rolled off her and took a harsh breath. “Once you leave the oppressive surroundings of that priory you’ll change your mind about being a nun.”
    “I’ll never change my mind!” She lunged away from him, but he had her in a moment, with one hand around her wrist. Though she jerked her arm frantically, his hold was implacable.
    “Don’t make it harder than it has to be, Joanna,” he warned as he sat up.
    Joanna rose to a crouch, leaning as far away from him as their outstretched arms would allow. “What you are suggesting is unthinkable,” she vowed furiously. “You cannot just abduct me this way. I won’t go! I won’t!”
    “Oh, you’ll go, all right. And one day when you are well wed with a babe in arms, you shall thank me for saving you from that miserable place, my little gray dove.”
    She stared at his face, seeing the hard determination there, and sudden despair overwhelmed her. “You may drag me away from here,” she whispered, stricken anew by unwanted tears, “but you will never succeed in this. I’ll not marry some minion of yours. I’d sooner fling myself in the sea!”
    His brow lowered at her softly worded vow and his eyes burned into hers. “And risk the fires of hell? I think not.” His hand tightened almost painfully on her wrist as he rose to his feet. Then, ignoring her furious struggles, he dragged her relentlessly toward his waiting horse.

5
    J OANNA RODE STIFFLY, TRYING hard to avoid any contact with her captor. She was seated sideways before him, balanced most precariously with her bottom nestled between his thighs and her two legs resting over one of his. Under the circumstances any attempt to lean away from him was hopeless, yet her fury would not allow her to react in any other manner. How dare he treat her this way! How dare he lay in wait for her, hunting her down and dragging her off like some prize hart!
    She gasped as the horse lurched down a sharp incline and her balance was threatened. Rylan’s arm tightened around her, preventing her from falling, yet she could not feel an ounce of gratitude toward him. If not for him she wouldn’t be perched on this frightening animal, terrified for her very life. If not for him she wouldn’t be riding through the forests while a storm threatened.
    As the horse resumed its steady pace, Joanna pulled away from Rylan, unwilling to rest against his chest no matter how sturdy it was. But he clearly had other ideas. His arm tightened, keeping her pressed against him, and his head lowered nearer to