Free Rising Fire by Terri Brisbin

tugged the edges of her cloak together. “Better now?”
    She nodded, knowing it was a lie. She never suffered the cold and wore a cloak only to avoid questions and inquisitive glances. She never had felt chilled, now that she thought on it. Closer to him, the fire inside her grew even more, swelling and pushing against her limits. Every step toward him made it intensify and strengthen.
    Brienne gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, hoping to keep it within. If she had doubted she could bring forth fire without a hearth or pit, she did not do so any longer. It was there, barely contained, barely restrained, waiting for a slip in her grasp. She dared not.
    She dared not.
    â€œWhy are you not at the keep?” she asked, trying to distract the heat within her from its purpose. “If you have business with Lord Hugh, surely you would be welcome there.”
    He wiped his hands against his trews and tunic and met her gaze. “Lord Hugh knows not of my visit or my business yet. I did not wish to ask for the hospitality of his house until he arrived.”
    She sensed that those few words, that short admission, cost him much.
Does he think me a risk?
    â€œAye, it is not my custom to speak of my matters with others.”
    â€œHow did you know? Can you hear my thoughts?” she asked. Then, gasping at her words, she covered her mouth with her hands.
Why did I say that to him?
    â€œNot hear them so much as sense the questions you have,” he said, shaking his head. “I cannot fathom how it happens either.” He glanced at her, and his eyesnarrowed. “Nor why I need to tell you things I should not as well. Why do you draw me as surely as if you call my name?”
    He touched her hands first, lifting them away from her face, and then he outlined her cheek and jaw with only a finger. She lost her breath, for it was the lightest of touches, but it held the power of a blow. His eyes never left hers as he turned his hand and let the back of it caress her cheek.
    Now the heat pulsing through her body had nothing to do with the fire she controlled. This heat came from a growing ache in her core, her breasts and skin. It was a different kind of heat, and he leaned in closer and touched his lips to hers.
    In that moment, Brienne knew that this was what she should fear. This power, this heat. It wasn’t the one she’d been born with that should terrify her. His mouth tasted hers in the gentlest of ways, not forcing or pressing her for more. Not yet. But she could feel his control, hear the shallow, panting breaths that spoke of his arousal, and she shook in response.
    â€œBrienne,” he whispered as he moved his mouth from hers to kiss along her jaw. “Brienne.” He touched her ear with the tip of his tongue and she shuddered from it, her body not her own.
    The loud whistling of a bird pierced the quiet of their secluded spot, and William stilled. A second one roused her from this stupor of passion he’d created. He lifted his head and canted it, listening, and then released her when a third one followed.
    â€œI . . . I must go. Forgive me if I trespassed.”
    Within a few seconds, he’d disappeared from the spot where they’d stood, sharing an intimacy she’d nevershared with any man before. The rustling of leaves as he walked away quieted, leaving her alone, confused, and filled with a feeling she’d never felt before.
    Was this desire? Her body ached and throbbed in places she’d hardly noticed before. Her skin tingled and her lips burned. And this kiss, this touching, by a stranger made her body answer his caress in a way that James’s had never done.
    There was more, too. Sharing this personal, private moment with him aroused the deeper need within her to be with another, to speak about important matters. She wanted to speak of her dreams and fears with another person.
    The cool water of the stream tempted her, and she walked to its