Page 75 of A Knight’s Vengeance

An icy tremor raked through her to the soles of her feet. “Let me go. When I am gone, you will forget⁠—”

He shook his head. His eyes gleamed like oiled steel. “You claim I am the annoying hornet, but you never give me a moment’s peace. You are in my thoughts every moment of every day. You taunt me with the memory of your lips. Your skin. Your scent. I do not want you there, yet you persist. I try to ignore you, but I cannot. When I fall asleep at night, you emerge in my dreams, teasing, challenging, your eyes as bright as the stars in the heavens.”

His awkward words flew from his lips like a swarm of wasps. Elizabeth’s belly tightened. He haunted her in the same way.

“Let me go,” she whispered, her tone desperate.

“And forfeit Wode? Never.”

“You do not know what you say.” Her fingers, locked onto the table, trembled with strain.

Geoffrey laughed, a sound of agony. “I rave like a mad man.”

“You are my enemy.”

Torment warred in his gaze, and the same emotion clashed within her. Elizabeth’s mind flooded with memories of his kiss, touch, and taste. She fought the rush of illicit sensations, and willed her indignant fury to return. Like dry wood added to a dwindling fire, it would refuel her determination to fight him.

The rage did not come.

In its place, came hollowness. Emptiness.

Yearning.

“I cannot change the past, Elizabeth,” he rasped.

Her arms ached to curl around him. Her body cried out for his embrace and touch, but she forced a denial between her teeth. “I will not lie with you.”

“You did not find the idea so repulsive the other evening.”

She sighed. “I did not try to seduce you. Will you ever get that into your addled skull?”

His lips twisted into a knowing smile. “While you scorn me with your tongue, your body weeps for my touch.”

“It does not!”

“I will prove it.” Before she could dart away, Geoffrey captured her wrists and yanked her against him. Cursing, sobbing, she fought him, but his fingers pushed into her hair, cupped the back of her head, and held her still. His lips covered hers. She pummeled her fists against his chest, but he did not let her go, and he did not relent.

His rough kisses claimed her mouth, as though to prove him right and her wrong. Pleasure surged. Elizabeth gasped, the sound muffled against his lips. He tasted of blackberries. As her arms slid around him, and her lips melded to his, she despaired of her own weakness.

As her resistance melted, his touch gentled. His fingers, splayed at the small of her back, slid down and cupped her bottom. With a low groan, a helpless sound torn from him, he pulled her flush against his thighs. She moaned at the intimate contact. Tongue to tongue. Chest to chest. Steel to softness.

His breathing ragged, he broke the kiss. With his thumbs, he touched her swollen mouth. “Why do you fight what we both want?” His words shimmered in the air between them, and bound her thoughts and desires to his like a silk ribbon.

She gazed up at him. Spellbound. Tempted.

A breeze cooled her arms. Voices floated up from the bailey. Cold reality snuffed the raging need inside her.

How could she desire the rogue who would destroy her father?

She moistened her lips and tasted blackberries. The sweetness soured in her mouth. Mildred was right. His revenge included taking her virginity and returning her to her father ruined, with a de Lanceau bastard in her womb. Her willing deflowering would make his vengeance all the more insulting.

His hands had again settled on her buttocks. She squirmed against his hold. “Release me.”

His breath fanned over her cheek and warmed her lips. “Lie with me, Elizabeth.”

“I would rather…” She swallowed hard. “I would rather toil in the kitchens all day.”

Drawing back a fraction, he squinted at her. “What?”