Page 30 of One Knight in the Forest

Mutiny sparked in her eyes. “I will not sit here and wait for all to be resolved.”

“You might have to, with your injured leg.”

She scowled. She looked so endearing, he fought a tender smile.

Magdalen huffed. “Do not laugh at me.”

“Of course not.”

She squinted at him. “Why is the corner of your mouth twitching?”

He could fight it no longer. Chuckling, he smoothed his right hand down her cheek. “You are quite lovely when you are determined.”

Her gaze sharpened further, but he’d glimpsed a hint of mirth in her eyes. “Is that your way of saying that I can help you?”

“Nay.” Shifting in the chair, while maintaining his hold on her, he put his empty mug on the side table. When she offered him her mug, he set it aside as well.

“Cyn,” Magdalen said, reclaiming his attention, “regardless of what you say, I am going to—”

“Kiss me?” As soon as the words left his lips, he froze. He’d thought about kissing her more than once that morning, but had never intended to tell her of his desire.

She went very still. “W-what did you say?”

A denial of his reckless words burned on his tongue. Yet, he really did want to kiss her, to share the ache of William’s betrayal with her and find solace in the brief pleasure of a kiss. How he wanted, too, to show her just how much he’d come to cherish her.

He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine how soft her mouth would feel against his. “I…ah…said…”

A tiny smile curved her lips. Leaning forward, she caught his face in her hands. Ah, God, the wondrous contact of her skin on his…

A shudder trailed through him, but before he could say a word, she pressed her mouth to his, a light, tentative kiss. Astonishment rippled through him, even as her lips moved, hesitant and seeking and clearly hoping for a response from him.

A helpless growl tickled his throat, while strands of her hair feathered against his cheek. He shouldn’t kiss her back. He shouldn’t even begin to yield to the powerful temptation…but he couldn’t resist. He hadn’t loved another woman since Francine—hadn’t been willing to love—until he’d encountered Magdalen.

He kissed her carefully, reverently, as a knight should kiss an innocent maiden; he didn’t want to frighten her by being too eager. She sighed, her breath warm upon his mouth, and then, with one last, deeper kiss, she leaned away, her smile shy.

“Well,” he murmured. “That was quite unexpected.”

Doubt swept her lovely features. “Was I too bold?

“Not at all.”

“I really should have asked first if ’twas all right to kiss you.” Her face reddened, and she averted her gaze. “Aislinn used to scold me, and rightfully so, for not being more cautious. I am sorry—”

“No need to apologize.”

“I just…suddenly wanted to know…how a kiss would feel between us… Oh, goodness. I have made an utter fool of himself.” She turned her face away.

“Magdalen,” he said gently. When she didn’t answer, he caught hold of her chin and coaxed her to face him again. “Truth be told, I very much wanted to kiss you, too.”

Joy brightened her expression. “Is that so?”

“Mmm.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “For a first kiss between us, I would say ’twas pretty remarkable.”

She smiled. “To be honest, I have not kissed very often. I did kiss my fiancé once on the mouth—”

Cyn’s hand dropped away from her chin. “You are betrothed?” A brutal knot of disappointment plummeted into the pit of his stomach. He should have known that when he found a woman he wanted, she’d already be taken.

“I was betrothed. My fiancé died years ago.”