Page 23 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

"William?" She was looking down from the edge of the roadside.

He opened his mouth.

"William, please. Answer me!"

He tried to speak. A moan came out.

"William? I'm coming down there."

"No!" he croaked.

Too late. Her muddy slippers crept over the edge and an instant later she was sliding down the hill on her backside, a fall of flaming red hair flying out behind her. "Ouch!"

He closed his eyes and mentally cursed.

"Oh!"

He heard the sound of tearing fabric.

"Heavens!"

Gravel rained down on him.

"Uh-oh!"

He could hear Linnet crashing through the bushes and winced. Before he could take another breath, she hit him with a grunt. He lay there, eyes closed, Linnet sprawled atop him. Her chest and belly were pressed against his and her legs lay between his own. He could feel her heart beating faster and louder than thundering horses.

Her nose was against his chest and her hair fanned out, twigs and leaves tangled in it. Slowly she raised her head and shook it. Leaves flew out and a twig slapped him in the chin. She shoved her hair out of her face and stared down at him. One small hand reached out to gently cup his cheek. "Are you terribly wounded?" she asked.

"Only my pride."

She whispered his name again, relief in her voice. Her lips were there. An inch away. He told himself not yet. But her body was soft and he wanted her. God, how he wanted her! He relied on pure concentrated determination to control himself. He closed his eyes, which only heightened his sense of smell, sound, and touch. Other than sight, that left one more sensation—taste. How would she taste?

He opened his eyes. There were tears in hers. Real tears. Worried tears. God's teeth. There was only so much a man could take. His mouth was on hers an instant later, his hand splayed across the back of her head, holding her to him. She went even softer against him, as if his kiss made her weak. He stroked her lips with his tongue and she gave a quiet gasp of surprise. His tongue sank into her sweet mouth, filled it, and the kiss was just as he'd thought.

She tasted of honey, of fire, and of everything he ever could need. His other hand slid over her shoulder and slowly down her slim back to caress her bottom. She moaned against the strength of his tongue. He held her hard against him and rolled with her, pressing her back into the soft mud, his mouth taking hers sweetly but firmly, mimicking the way he wanted to take her body—in long, slow strokes that lasted forever.

With her beneath him he pressed closer, feeling her sink into the mud but not caring, because she moaned against his mouth and gripped his shoulders. She didn't push him away. She held him fast and kept her mouth open, her curious tongue moving in answer to his. He shifted his hips, rocking slowly against her in a steady rhythm as old as time.

It was happening too fast. Too strong. Too out of control. He fought with himself, fought his primal urge and reason. He drew his mouth away, his breath coming as fast as his passion did. He looked down into those eyes, those wild golden eyes that looked up at him with such pure wonder. He wanted to show her what loving was, what a man and woman could be. He wanted to love her for all the days and nights left in this lonely lifetime. He wanted to die inside this woman.

But even in his heat of passion he wouldn't take her in the mud. He moved off her and she looked up at him with a look that was half-puzzled, half-hurt. "Here." He offered her his hand and helped her up.

She looked everywhere but at him. They were covered in mud and briars and damp grass.

He started back up the hillside, gripping onto the bushes as he tried to get a foothold. Again he gave her his hand. "Come," he told her. "I'll help you." She placed her hand in his, but he slipped and so did his grip on her hand.

Down they went again. He grabbed a bush and only fell to his knees. He heard a shriek and looked behind him.

She hadn't been so lucky. She was lying facedown in the thickest pool of mud in the ravine. Very slowly she pushed herself up.

Two bright and surprised yellow eyes stared at him from a brown face dripping in mud.

He burst out laughing. Her eyes narrowed and she sat back, resting her arms on her knees. He watched the mud drip from hair, nose, everywhere.

"You look like a sow," he told her honestly, not realizing that this was a stupid time for male honesty.

The mud ball hit him square in the face.