Page 65 of A Knight’s Vengeance

His fingers moved. He had untied her braid. “Such incredible hair,” he murmured, and both of his hands threaded through her tresses. “I will never forget the day we first met. Your hair shone like black silk.”

Her pulse thudded with a wildness that excited and terrified her. Mildred’s warnings echoed in Elizabeth’s mind. “Stop. I want⁠—”

“Shh.” He pressed his thumb to her lips. His fingers claimed a ringlet and followed its shiny length to where it ended at her waist. “You smell good. Eau de Cypress?”

She shrugged. “Elena poured the fragrance into my bath.”

He inhaled a long breath, and then nodded. “I brought the scent from Acre. Once, a woman could win my favor by wearing it.”

He leaned closer. His hands spanned her waist and warmed her skin through the gown. Desire rushed through her limbs. She must stop him, before he kissed her. Or she would be lost.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he breathed against the side of her face. His breath was a caress against her skin, and heat shot down into her quivering belly.

Reason nagged at her muzzy thoughts. “I must ... return to my chamber.”

He shook his head. “I forbid it.”

“Why? What are you going ... to do?”

His smoldering gaze turned intent. Purposeful. “What I have wanted to do all evening.”

His arms went around her waist.

His mouth brushed hers.

Never before had she experienced such a kiss. His lips came down with the silken touch of a butterfly’s wings. He did not aim to possess, but entice. He did not demand that she kiss him in return. With each stroke of his lips, he offered an invitation, in an unspoken language as old as the first dawn.

Her body recognized that language. Responded. Her eager lips parted, and their tongues meshed.

Sensation shimmered, sweeter and richer than before. She must protest. Force him away. Her hand came up to push against his chest, but of its own volition, wound into his shirt.

She mewled, a cry of urgent need. Her body pressed against him. Hungry. Hungry ...

He gasped against her lips. Shuddered. He broke away from her, swearing into the darkness, and pushed her to arm’s length.

“Geoffrey?” she whispered.

Breathing like a winded stallion, he looked at her. Fury flashed in his eyes.

She touched her tingling lips and struggled against an overwhelming sense of loss.

His mouth slanted into a mirthless grin. “You will not sway me that way, milady.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You hoped to seduce me.”

“Nay!” She jerked out of his grasp as though he had slapped her.

His harsh laughter grated like a dagger against stone. “You are quite the temptress, when you put a little effort into your kiss. You would put Eve to shame. How foolish of me, to think you were innocent of such methods of deception.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You are mistaken.”

“I think not.”

The depth of her anguish confused her. This rogue meant naught to her. She should not care whether he believed her or not. “Why would I wish to seduce you?”

“You hoped to find my weakness. To make me soften toward your father.” His tone thinned. “Mayhap you thought I might decide to free you. Whatever the reason, I will never yield.”