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Oh lord. A rush of wetness spilled from between my legs, thinking of his hand on my bare behind.
Smacking. Stinging.
Stop.
Somehow, he connected with the drumbeat of desire his words drew from me, because he responded with that low growl again which only made the situation worse.
I was angry at my body for betraying my better sense. Sexy though he may be, I wasn’t going anywhere with him. That was definitely not a part of my plan to escape a hateful marriage to his brother. Where he planned to take me, I had no idea, and I wasn’t about to find out. It was time to fight. With everything I had.
Fight I did. I fought him with all my might, wriggling out of his hold just enough to loop my arm around his muscular neck. I’d never actually completed a carotid hold until my opponent blacked out, but if ever there was a time, this was it. The strong thrumming pulse of his jugular vein pattered away against the inside of my forearm.
I should scream. It would end this right now. Yet, I did not.
Why did I not?
“Fuck,” he gasped, clawing at my arm with his hands.
Making someone lose consciousness isn’t a feat of strength. Though I was half his size, I knew what I was doing. I tightened a little more, feeling both intoxicatingly powerful and damned glad I paid such close attention during my grappling arts classes.
Not for the first time, I said a silent thanks to Saint Theodora. I might just get out of this after all.
But before I knew it, with a single grip of his left hand, he thrust me off him and I heard him gasp for air as I was dropping from his arms to land on the rug, no longer over his shoulder but held firmly by a giant hand with a vise-like grip on a twist of fabric from my nightdress. Either I stayed where I was, or it would be torn from me as I ran.
In an instant, he was kneeling beside me, checking to make sure I was alright. He still looked mad as hell, but in those dark eyes there was a concern, too.
“I didn’t know you’d be such a hellcat,” he said, placing his thumb just below my eyelid to check my pupils, as if the fall from a height of about six inches might have permanently damaged me. He grabbed my hand to help me up to sitting, but I knew I had to fight him once again.
Not for my freedom, but for my consciousness. I shoved him hard, batting at his face, trying desperately to loose his grip on my nightdress.
“Just knock that shit off,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He had no idea I was fighting not him, but the fact that my head was now above my heart, but my blood pressure was still sky-high. I was now sitting upright and I knew from the way the world was closing in that I was in trouble.
Not because I was injured, but because I had, very unfortunately, inherited one incredibly inconvenient trait through my mother’s side of the family.
We were strong, fierce, headstrong women.
But we were also fainters.
The tell-tale rush of nausea and coldness took hold of me.
No, no, no, no, no.
I tried all the tactics I’d learned over the years.
Hold my breath.
Don’t blink.
Clench every muscle.
But it was no use. The shock of seeing him, the effort of fighting him, and the damned inconvenient way my body was responding to his scent, were working against me. It was embarrassing… but it was happening.
I looked up at his eyes, desperate to explain. But it was too late.
I was on the way out, and then the world went black.Chapter 8ValeriaWhen I regained consciousness, I was on horseback, moving through the night, wrapped tightly in several blankets against the almost endless cold of the long Praque winter.
Vasile sat behind me in the saddle, his thighs pressing against mine, and embracing me from behind to hold the reins. He was an experienced rider, and he and the horse moved as one, familiar and comfortable with one another.
We were moving down a small woodland path that went from stand to stand of pine trees. Though the hoofprints up ahead of us were faint, slightly windblown and difficult to make out precisely, I guessed they were from Vasile heading the other direction earlier in the day, moving toward the valleys and away from the mountains. But it was too dark to be absolutely sure. Wherever we were, he knew exactly where we were headed.
I most certainly did not.
I gave him no immediate signal that I was awake. Instead, I carefully assessed the situation.
Judging by the moon, we were heading east.
Wiggling my toes, I realized I was now wearing socks and slippers, which I hadn’t been when he arrived. Thoughts of what else he may have done while I was unconscious had that now familiar tension growing in my center.
