“You are foolish if you believe that. People do not follow and obey powerful kings and rulers or warriors out of love, they follow out of fear, they submit out of fear.”
“So, you would rather I fear you than love you?”
“Love?” he said on a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. “You truly believe that you could love me?”
“Why not?”
“You will find out soon enough,” he said and released her, turning away.
“Why is everything a mystery with you? What do you hide? What do you fear?”
Rhys swerved around. “I hide what is necessary and did I not make it clear that I fear nothing? Enough of this nonsense,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. “There are other more important matters to discuss.”
“There can be no matter more important than that of your wife one day possibly falling in love with you.”
Rhys stepped closer to her. “I would prefer your obedience to love.”
“I cannot promise you either one, but I believe one would be much easier than the other for me to give you.”
Her voice was gentle, her words heartfelt, and her lips inviting.
Kiss her.
This time he did not ignore the urging. His arm hurried around her waist to pull her close and his lips settled eagerly on hers.
Heather let herself be swallowed not only by his powerful arms, but his kiss as well. She had been waiting for him to kiss her, wanted him to kiss her and did not waste time wondering why she enjoyed his kisses. She simply allowed herself to do so, for in his kiss was a mystery she intended to solve.
He commanded well with words, but more so with his lips and she had no trouble obeying what he demanded of her, for she demanded of him as well. And the deeper the kiss delved the more she sensed she drew closer to uncovering the mystery.
When he tore his mouth away from hers, she felt as if he took her breath with him and she gasped momentarily for air.
Rhys lowered her to the chair and poured her some wine, handing her the goblet. “Drink.”
She did not argue. She sipped at it as her breathing began to slowly return and the pleasurable tingle that had settled over her had begun to fade. She looked up at him at a loss for words.
“Drink,” he ordered again, though this time with firmness that warned of any protest.
It was not his demand that had her take another sip. She took it because it helped calm her, for calmness was her only shield in dealing with the fiery Dragon.
Rhys paced in front of her.Love.It had been foolish of her to have mentioned it and he let her know it. He stopped abruptly and pointed a finger at her. “There will be no more talk of love.” With that he stormed out of the room.
Heather jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. She took another sip of wine, wondering how she was ever going to manage being wed to the Dragon. She sat enjoying the solitude and quiet, and the wine.
Feeling quite calm after finishing the wine, she planned to go in search of Nessa in the hope of finding out about Glynnis and hoping the answer would not disturb her.
The door opened abruptly, and Rhys walked in. Shoving the door shut behind him, he walked over to her with a look on his face that for a moment frightened Heather. She was not sure if it was anger or passion she saw there. She took several anxious steps away from him, but he quickened his step and his arm shot out, coiling around her waist, yanking her forward, and slamming her against his hard chest.
“You want to see the beast you truly married?” he said, though did not give her a chance to respond. His mouth came down on hers so harshly that it stole her breath.
CHAPTER 11
Heather did not struggle against Rhys’ overpowering kiss nor did she respond. She was too busy trying to breathe. It did not help with how tightly he held her against him with one arm or how roughly his other hand gripped the back of her head, forcing her mouth to remain on his. If his intentions were to show what a beast he could be, he need not have bothered. His size and strength alone had done that. She was not foolish enough to think that she could ever defend herself against him and hoped she would never have to. But now?
He hoisted her up, not taking his mouth off hers and walked her to the door, planting her back against it and pressing his body tightly against hers. She felt him then. He was hard, thick, and large. And the image of what he possibly intended to do to her right here and now sent a ripple of fear through her.
When he rubbed himself hard against her, his tongue drove deeper into her mouth, and he stole the last bit of breath she was fighting to keep. She shoved at his shoulders, trying at least to push him away enough for her to breathe, but she met solid muscle and could not budge it.
Her next action was instinctive. She challenged his tongue with her gentler one and stroked the side of his face with her hand as she did.He responded more quickly than she had expected and with his kiss easing she was able to slip her mouth off his, rest her brow to his, and take his face gently in her hands as she struggled to say, “You stole my breath.”
