Page 108 of Silver Angel

She was grinning now. When he made no move to embrace her, she took matters into her own hands, slipping her arms around his neck. He was the one to resist now.

“Wait a minute—”

“Shh.” She began nibbling at his chin. “Have you forgotten so soon how easily passion can flare between us?”

“So that’s it? All you want is my—”

“Silly man. All I wanted was your love. All you had to do was tell me.”

He turned the tables on her, grabbing her hips to press them into his own. “I thought I was always quite demonstrative in that area.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“Didn’t you?” he teased. “What about this?” And he captured her lips until her legs gave out from under her.

“That was always nice,” she said breathlessly, “but I wanted the words.”

“Silly woman.” He gave her back her own words. “I knew you loved me. Why weren’t you as intuitive? If I didn’t love you, would I have put up with your willfulness, your temper, your jealousy?”

“I was never jealous!” she retorted.

“Of course not.” His chuckle was warm and caressing. “Are you sure you want the words, love? You’re going to hear them so often you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“That’s what you think. We know who always ends up begging for mercy, don’t we?” But then she sighed, holding him close, so happy she could barely stand it. “Oh, Derek, I love you so much. How soon can we be married?”

He grinned at her impatience. “Not until morning, at least. I have other plans for tonight.”

“Do you, my lord? So do I, now that you mention it.” And she brought his lips back to hers.

Enter the World of Johanna Lindsey

Welcome to the world of Johanna Lindsey, and enter into a fantasy of your choosing. Immerse yourself deep into times when men were warriors, tamed only by very special women, and romance reigned supreme. Whether it is against the backdrop of glamorous Regency England society, the pageantry of a medieval court, the wild wilderness of the American West, or any other you can imagine, Johanna Lindsey knows how to make a love story come alive. Enjoy!

Captive Bride

Johanna Lindsey touched deep into the soul of her readers with her first romance. The world knew a new star was born with this tale of an arrogant Arab prince cut down to size by a strong-minded English miss.

Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn’t expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.

He sighed, cursing the lack of time. But perhaps Christina Wakefield was just playing hard to get. After all, young women came to London to look for husbands. And he wasn’t such a bad catch. But still, with only one day’s acquaintance, the odds were against him. Damn, why hadn’t he met her sooner?

Anne Shadwell drew Christina toward Philip. “Miss Wakefield, I would like to introduce—”

She was cut off abruptly.

“We’ve met,” Christina said contemptuously.

Anne Shadwell looked startled, but Philip made an arrogantly graceful bow, took Christina’s arm firmly, and walked her out onto the balcony. She resisted, but he was sure she wouldn’t cause a scene.

When they reached the railing, she whirled to face him defiantly.

“Really, Mr. Caxton! I thought I made myself quite clear last night, but since you don’t seem to understand, let me enlighten you. I don’t like you. You are a rude, conceited man, and I find you quite intolerable. Now if you will excuse me, I am going back to join my brother.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Christina, wait,” he demanded huskily, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.

“I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Mr. Caxton. And please refrain from using my first name.” She turned to leave again, but Philip still grasped her hand in his. She faced him once more, stamping her foot in fury.

“Let go of my hand!” she demanded.