She tilted her head to look directly into his eyes. Damn his beautiful, thick-lashed eyes. They turned her knees to porridge and caused peculiar flickers elsewhere too.
Come now, Brooke. You’re made of sterner stuff. Where’s your backbone?
“Why would you want that, my lord? It makes no sense at all. Is this revenge for what Duffen did to you?” She narrowed her eyes and gestured between them. “Your way of punishing me? I told you, I had nothing to do with his idiotic decision to smack you on your hard head.”
Lord Ravensdale bent nearer and trailed his fingers along her jaw. “No, I took a fancy to you immediately.”
For more Bites by Collette Cameron, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/collettecameron
If you loved this Bite, read Brooke: Wagers Gone Awry on Amazon or on iBooks
About Collette Cameron
USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author, COLLETTE CAMERON pens Scottish and Regency historicals, featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them.
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The Penance to Come…
Felicity Brandon
“This is it, my sweeting.” His voice sounds triumphant as he presses his free palm against the dark wood. “These are my private quarters.”
Something about his tone makes my insides quiver, the resonance taking on that authoritative edge that has driven me wild since he first enslaved me back in the Viking camp outside Donrose.
I blink up at him, feeling my emotions surge as my heart pounds faster and faster within the walls of my chest. “Is this where I am to stay, my Lofðungr?” My question sounds small in the shadows, my voice bouncing off the stonework and disappearing.
The corners of his lips turn at my words, and I swear I am almost panting by the time he speaks. “Well, of course, Aurelie,” he murmurs, pulling me toward him with two powerful arms. One hand rises to my dark hair, and slowly he tugs my head backwards, so that my face rises to meet his eyes. “You are mine now, and you will stay wherever I am.”
I swallow hard at the intensity in his tone.
“I trust you will be happy here,” he continues as his thumb strokes the edge of my chin with gentle caresses. “I am a prince after all, so I can keep you in the manner to which a princess should be already acquainted.”
That makes me smile, and I lower my eyes despite the hand at my face. Anders tuts at me, his hand pushing my face higher until my gaze returns to him. “You know better than to look away, Aurelie,” he warns me.
I pull my lower lip between my teeth, anxiety at the soft admonishment stirring within me. “I apologise,” I reply. “I will be happy,” I assure him. “I am happy with you.” And I mean it, his mesmerising blue eyes holding my gaze steady.
All at once the hand disappears, and he jerks the strong door beyond us open. We both move forward, my steps tentative as I peer into the darkness.
Anders drops my hand for the first time since we arrived, pacing into his old room. The musty scent of the air hits me as I follow after him. Evidently, Anders has not been here for some time.
“We’ll need a little light,” he announces, already striding past me to one of the lit candles in the hall. I stand in the middle of the space as he returns, armed with two candlesticks, now both aflame. He proceeds to light each torch in the vicinity, and soon enough the flickering lights reveal his large private quarters.
“That’s more like it,” he smiles, shifting the door closed with his left hip, as he paces back toward me. “It’s cold, and full of cobwebs,” he explains, looking around, “but it’s home.”
I look around me, taking in Anders’ private space. “How long has it been since you were last here, my Lofðungr?” I ask him, as I remove my longsword and prop it against a nearby piece of furniture.
He tilts his head as he shakes off his large furs, thinking on my question. “It has been some time,” he muses. “Several seasons have passed since I left Lundborg.”
I glance around, taking in the ornate furniture in the room. At the far end is an oversized four-poster bed, and when my eyes fall over it, Anders chuckles next to me.
“Ah, yes, my sweeting,” he agrees with a dark laugh. “That is the place where I shall have you bound and splayed.” He closes the distance between us in one stride, his large, muscular frame towering over me once more.
I look up to him, fighting to push the air in and out of my body. “My Lofðungr,” I murmur, but there are no more words. The swirling mix of panic and arousal makes me giddy, and I reach for his forearm to support me.
His face softens at the gesture, and within a moment his full lips come crashing down onto me. His kiss is demanding, possessing me and leaving me ragged as he pulls away. Now my head is spinning, the caress of his lips a temporary reprieve for my mind, which is still trying to make sense of all the changes that have occurred in my life of late.
“I understand, my love,” he purrs, spearing me with the dark intensity of his gaze. “This is all new, and it will take you time to feel settled—to belong—but belong you will, my sweeting.”
He pushes his groin into me, the evidence of his arousal clear at my belly. A reflexive groan escapes my lips at the sensation. My body, unable to resist my Viking prince, moves even closer to him, my hips rolling against his hardness.
Anders smiles, his blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, Aurelie, yes,” he murmurs. “I want you too, but first…” He pauses, a wicked grin spreading over his handsome face. “First there is the matter of your transgression in front of Olaff.”
My anxiety, so recently calmed by our rising passion, resumes full pelt. “But, my Lofðungr?” I ask, hearing the tremble in my voice.
“Aurelie?” His response is fast, and one of his dark blond brows arches as he repeats the enquiry back to me. “Do you protest?”
“I do, my Lofðungr,” I implore him. “Please, I did not mean to offend. I wanted only to offer the other side of the story?”
He nods as his large palms collect both of my hands between us. “On this point I am clear,” he replies, never breaking eye contact with me as he speaks. “Yet you spoke out when you did not have permission. You interrupted us, and were defensive, arguing against my account, and contradicting me in front of my brother. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
I hesitate, seeing the genuine feeling in his gaze. Is that what I had done—contradicted him? Yes, I muse, I suppose that I did, and yet I meant no ill by it. I had only wanted to defend Donrose, and speak for those who are no longer here to defend themselves.
He towers over me, motionless, waiting for me to think on my behaviour.
“I see I have undermined you,” I say finally, the notion clear to me for the first time. “I am sorry to have caused you embarrassment in front of Olaff.”
Anders leans in, his lips grazing my mouth again as he trails kisses over my lips. “So, now you understand?” His tone is even and I know he is not angry, and yet still my core liquefies at the prospect of what he may have in mind for my penance.
For more Bites by Felicity Brandon, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/FelicityBrandon
If you loved this Bite, read The Viking’s Possession on Amazon
About Felicity Brandon
International bestselling & award-winning writer of dark, sexy romance.
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A Most Inappropriate Suitor
Jacki Delecki
Henrietta entered the ballroom on the arm of Lucien
. Dark blue velvet and pale pink rose garlands were intertwined and draped around the ballroom’s white columns. Crystal vases filled with the same heavily-scented roses sat on velvet-covered tables throughout the sparkling candlelit room. Aware of the evening’s mission, she didn’t enjoy the room filled with merriment and grand decorations. Instead she searched the crowded room for Sir Ramston.
After greeting their host and hostess, Amelia left Henrietta and Lucien to mingle with friends. Ignoring the women’s enraptured glances and open stares, Lucien paid close attention to Henrietta.
She had attracted many men in her first season, but she found Lucien’s determined interest in her unnerving. He was trying to be a part of her daily life and tonight he was trying to claim her publicly by remaining at her side.
Pretending a thirst, she sent Lucien for champagne. She didn’t trust him. She wasn’t sure if her distrust was due to her past courtship by the deceitful Duke of Wycliffe or the result of the comte’s chameleon-like personality.
As if she had conjured him, the Duke of Wycliffe pressed through the crowd, moving toward her. She blinked her eyes to make sure she hadn’t imagined her former suitor. And right behind him was Lord Rathbourne. Could the evening get more complicated?
“Lady Henrietta. It’s been too long.” The duke brought her hand to his wet lips.
She hadn’t seen Marcus Blenseim, the Duke of Wycliffe, since his courtship four years ago. And four years wasn’t long enough.
The duke’s hawk-like features had softened over the last years, the angular lines were filled in with puffiness and bloating, likely from dissipation.
“Your Grace.” She curtsied.
He lifted his eyebrow with the affectation that at one time Henrietta had thought to be charming. She now felt otherwise.
“You’ve grown into a most beautiful woman.” His eyes remained on her décolletage. “I was sorry to hear of your loss. It must have been very difficult for you.”
Henrietta was on the verge of uttering a very unladylike response. What a hypocrite he was to pretend any concern for her or her family. He had been furious that Henrietta had chosen to retire from society and take care of her ill mother, furious that she didn’t remain in London to be courted by his grandiose self.
Lord Rathbourne stepped toward her, pressing the duke aside. “Lady Henrietta, a pleasure.” He bowed over her hand.
The heat of his hand penetrated through her glove. He smelled fresh, like the outdoors, unlike the duke who smelled of musty furniture.
Lord Rathbourne nodded toward the duke but kept his eyes on Henrietta. “I hear congratulations are in order. A second son, I believe, Your Grace? How is your duchess?”
The duke stiffened, his tone prickly. “You’re well informed, Rathbourne. Lady Wycliffe is fine.”
“Rathbourne, excuse us. Lady Henrietta and I have much to catch up on.” The duke took Henrietta’s elbow.
“I would never interfere with friends reminiscing. Lady Henrietta, may I have the honor of the next dance?” Lord Rathbourne asked.
Lord Rathbourne had left for the Continent before she returned to the country to take care of her mother, but he remembered her past relationship with Wycliffe.
Both men stared at her, waiting for her reply. “Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll return shortly.” Lord Rathbourne turned and strolled back into the crowd without further acknowledgement of the duke.
“Is Rathbourne pursuing you?” The duke’s squinted eyes followed the earl.
She pulled her arm away from him. “You assume too much, my lord. Please excuse me. I see my friend Amelia.”
When she attempted to pass by him, he grabbed her arm. “You’re ravishing, Henrietta. I was a fool to let you go.”
Bursts of his wine-sodden breath grazed her neck, causing her body to shudder in revulsion. She tried to pull her arm away. He tightened his grip.
Lord Rathbourne’s menacing voice came from behind her. “I’m sure you won’t importune the lady any longer.”
The duke immediately released her arm. Henrietta turned. She didn’t know how Lord Rathbourne managed to be behind her, but she was grateful for his presence.
“And I’m sure Lady Henrietta is too occupied for the rest of the evening to be bothered by old acquaintances.” He emphasized the word “bothered.”
Wycliffe’s puffy face contorted like some giant sea creature. He bowed to Henrietta. “I bid you good night.”
Lord Rathbourne took her arm and directed her to the open French doors leading to the balcony.
She went from one gentleman’s strong grip to another. She had been at the ball less than an hour and her entire time was spent escaping gentlemen—the comte, the duke and now Lord Rathbourne. Her purpose in attending the ball was to talk with Sir Ramston.
“I believe a breath of fresh air is needed,” he said.
They stepped out into the balmy evening.
“I wasn’t sure if you would be glad to be rid of the duke?” He pressed close to her side, his arm and leg brushed hers. “At one time you had formed a tendre for the gentleman?”
She stopped abruptly. How dare he speak to her about other gentlemen? But when she looked up at him, the moonlight had softened the hard angles of his face and his eyes were warm with concern. Was this the same authoritative man from Abchurch offices?
His voice was quiet but insistent. “I couldn’t allow him to use his past acquaintance to ingratiate himself.”
Lord Rathbourne didn’t seem like the cold and unfeeling man when she gazed into his understanding eyes. “I never developed a tendre for the duke. It was assumed that we would become betrothed, but my mother became ill.”
“You had to leave London to care for her?” He seemed genuinely interested to know about her life in the intervening years since the Chillington Ball.
“My mother developed a fever, and I took her to our country estate to recover.”
His head was tilted toward her, his full attention focused on her. He stood too close for propriety’s sake, but she didn’t move away. No one had looked at her with such intense interest.
“Your mother never recovered from the fever?”
She wasn’t intimidated by Lord Rathbourne’s large size or the way he loomed over her. She felt only his quiet concern. “I thought she would. We all did.”
He turned to face her, as if he might take her into his arms. “It must have been devastating.” His words were quietly spoken, but she felt as if he understood all that she had suffered.
“The fever was the beginning of what the doctor called a wasting disease.”
“I’m sorry.”
She had never shared with anyone the experience of the awful years before her mother’s illness—the agony of watching her mother weaken each day, the glow diminish in her eyes.
“You never returned to London to finish the season?”
“No, I couldn’t leave her.” Her mother had encouraged her to go to London and enjoy the season. The pursuit of social pleasures had never held interest for her. And she wouldn’t leave her mother alone.
“You were very young to lose your mother.”
“Not that young. I was twenty-two years.”
“I remember the night I met you at the Chillington Ball. You were young and exuberant.”
“I wish that I had the same fond memories of you.”
His deep laugh resonated in his broad chest. “You weren’t impressed, but I was entranced by you.”
She searched his face to see if he was sincere. His eyes were focused on her lips.
“I thought of you often when I was in France.”
“You did?”
“Thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” He cradled her chin in his hands.
Pinpricks of anticipation skittered along her skin like the moonlight floating on the balustrades and balcony.
He lowered his head with infinite slowness and touched his cool dry lips to hers. He tasted her as if she were a sweet to b
e savored, nibbling on her lower lip. He played and pleasured her mouth until a trembling moan rose from her throat.
She had never imagined kisses like these tender caresses, that made the lonely space around her heart swell with joyful need.
The tip of his tongue played along the edges of her lips in sweeps of moist heat. She arched her body toward him reaching for a promise of what she did not know.
Brushing the tender skin of her throat with open-mouthed kisses, he traced the edge of her gown with overwhelming care.
Shivers of white-hot heat danced on her skin. She threw her head back giving him access to her vulnerable flesh.
His mouth broke from hers. “My God, this is madness.” He dropped his hands from her quivering body. “I’m not usually this clumsy, but I’ve waited so long for you.” He sounded winded, as if he had been running.
His palpable need fed her growing desire. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her. And for once in her life, she was lost for words. “I…I…”
He stared at her as lost as she was. “I never…”
Neither moved, not wanting to break the wondrous moment.
For more Bites by Jacki Delecki, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/Jackid
If you loved this Bite, read A Code of Love on Amazon or on iBooks
About Jacki Delecki
Jacki Delecki is a bestselling romantic suspense writer. Delecki’s Grayce Walters Series, which chronicles the adventures of a Seattle animal acupuncturist, was an editor’s selection by USA Today. Delecki’s Romantic Regency The Code Breaker Series hit number one on Amazon. Both acclaimed series are available for purchase at http://www.JackiDelecki.com. To learn more about Jacki and her books and to be the first to hear about giveaways join her newsletter found on her website. Follow her on FB—Jacki Delecki; Twitter @jackidelecki.
First Kisses: a Book+Main Bites anthology Page 2
