Page 1 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Prologue

Millenstowe Keep

Warwickshire, England

Early December, 1185

“Why did the guards leave us on our own?” Fifteen-year-old Lady Blythe Welborne folded her arms over the front of her green wool cloak. A deeper chill settled in the shadows of the towering standing stones surrounding her, for the armed men on duty had walked out of view.

They’d left her with Pitt Rutherford.

Unchaperoned.

Her heart drummed with uncertainty and excitement as wild as the winter wind whispering through the ancient site. At long last, were she and the squire alone?

With swaggered strides, Pitt closed the few steps between them. His straight, dark-brown hair, always untidy, lent a roguishness to his features. “Worry not. All will be well.”

His smile and words were doubtless meant to reassure. For years, though, her parents and tutors had impressed upon her the importance of following the rules of propriety. Ignoring the rules could ruin a lady’s reputation and her chances of a good marriage.

Blythe respected such rules were set for a reason. Her best friend Rosetta’s father, Lord Milton Montgomery, had greatly honored Blythe’s family by taking her in as his ward at Millenstowe Keep. As her mother had said, many young ladies wished to complete their tutelage in his lordship’s household, and Blythe should be grateful she’d been chosen.

At this moment, though, Blythe cared not about the honor. Finally—oh, finally!—she and Pitt were alone.

A flush tingled over Blythe’s skin as he halted a hand’s span away from her. Anticipation became a sweet, hot ache.

She’d met the squire, also fifteen years of age, weeks ago in the bailey. She and Rosetta had been walking to the gardens when Blythe’s cloak pin had come loose and fallen in the mud. Dashing away from the other squires gathered near the well, he’d retrieved her pin, wiped it clean, and they’d exchanged pleasantries. They’d become friends, and soon after, she’d dreamed of being in his arms, for his keen brown eyes seemed to see the forbidden longings in her soul.

With her leather-gloved hand, she pushed windblown hair from her cheek and gazed up at him, staring down at her. His hungry gaze sent a thrill racing through her. Now that she and Pitt were alone, did she dare to indulge her longings? Oh, how she wanted to. Rosetta had kissed Ash, her handsome squire, at the stone circle. Rosetta had told of the pleasure of that kiss, and now Blythe had the chance at such bliss, too.

His mouth ticking up at one corner, Pitt pulled off his gloves and stroked his fingers down her cheek; the gentlest of caresses. But, the glide of his warm fingertips on her cool skin set aflame every part of her body. Her eyelids fluttered, and she drew a sharp breath.

How did his touch hold such power? If he touched her like that again, she’d never be able to resist—regardless of the consequences. But, she didn’t want either of them to get into trouble.

“Pitt,” she said. “How can you be sure all will be well?”

“I am friends with one of the guards. I told him about us.”

Her breathing turned shallow; eager. She longed to throw herself into Pitt’s arms and kiss him. Really kiss him, without a single care to hold her back, and with all of the desire and joy gathered within her. Heat swirled up inside her to remember how they’d kissed in the stairwell the other day; frantic kisses with her hands clawing in his hair, his fingers running over her waist and hips. However, they’d promised to keep their relationship secret.

They had to.

Soon, she’d be wed to a well-respected lord almost forty years her senior. She’d had no say in the marriage, didn’t want to marry the man, but couldn’t defy a union arranged by the crown. Such disobedience would cast dishonor upon her family as well as Lord Montgomery. She’d not disappoint her parents or his lordship.

Dismay settled inside her; she must refuse her squire. Uncrossing her arms, Blythe glanced at where she’d last seen the guards. “Pitt—”

“I promise, we will do no more than kiss.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her brow.

She shivered. Such a tender brush of his mouth, but her body had gone deliciously tingly all over.

Her half-lidded gaze slid to his mouth, the evenness of his teeth, and her belly swooped to remember his lips crushing down on hers in the stairwell, his breath warming her cheek, his body pinning her against the stone wall.

Whatever he’d stirred up within her that day still smoldered within her like a kind of fire: hot, bright, and enticing. She wanted him to kiss her like that again. Over and over and over.

“My friend understands.” Pitt caressed her cheek again. “He remembers being young and in love.”

Do not let this chance slip away. Take it!

“When he and his colleague are returning, he will forewarn us by raising his voice.”