Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)

by Catherine Kean, Anna Markland, Elizabeth Rose, Laurel ODonnell, Barbara Devlin, SueEllen Welfonder, Amy Jarecki

  His hand shifted. With gentle pressure, he slid his palm underneath hers to entwine their fingers, and then pulled her toward him.

  Her stomach swooped. “Edouard—”

  “Come to me, Juliana.”

  Her arm stretched taut, drawing her torso toward him. Losing her balance, she began to fall toward the pallet. For one panicked moment, she thought to pull away.

  With a swift tug, he levered her forward. The breath rushed from her lips as she collided with the broad, solid heat of his chest.

  His breath stirred her hair. “You are here,” he said. “At last.”

  ***

  Edouard stilled, waiting for Juliana to gain her balance. Her free hand banged into his jaw.

  “Oh! I—”

  Her fingers were like icicles. Even as he acknowledged their coldness, her hand skated across his cheek, not a deliberate touch, but an instinctive reaction, no doubt, to her body sliding down against his, guided by his embrace.

  Not such a bad way to be with a woman.

  Her finger jabbed his right eyeball.

  “Ah!” His eyelids clamped shut. Just what he needed, to be half blind as well as chained. Of course, she hadn’t meant to poke him.

  “Sorry. Oh, goodness, w-was that—?”

  “My eye.” Edouard blinked away moisture.

  Her hand bumped against his shoulder. “Did I hurt y-you?”

  “Nay.”

  “Thank the Saints.” She laughed, a nervous warble. “This close, and I still c-cannot see you.”

  Nor I you, his mind answered, while he eased his fingers from hers to allow her to better recline. But I can hear you breathe, feel the softness of your warm chemise, and smell the perfume of your hair. God above, Juliana, how you entice me.

  Even as he struggled to squash that thought, his hardened loins swelled further. Damnation. He’d vowed to keep control of his desire. He’d offered Juliana comfort, and he meant to honor his words. Either he regained command of his lust, or he’d spend the entire night in aroused agony.

  He concentrated on quelling the fire in his groin. Straw shifted as Juliana settled beside him. He guessed that she was lying on her side, heard the faint rasp of wool as she covered herself with her blanket. When she fell quiet, he sensed she was looking at where she knew him to be.

  A silent growl of pleasure unfurled inside him. He still couldn’t see her, but in the small gap separating their bodies, her heat reached out to him like a bonfire beacon in the night. How he longed to bring her flush against him, to feel her supple curves against his hardness . . .

  Edouard, you wretched fool! Quit such thoughts, or you will drive yourself mad.

  He frowned, determined to conquer his disgraceful weakness. Be gallant, Edouard, and think about her comfort. Sliding his hand up the pallet, he found the chain running between them and pushed it closer to him. She needn’t lie on it and be uncomfortable. Then he tugged his blanket, barely large enough for one, back up over his waist, painfully aware that even the slightest movement caused the chains to make noise.

  “Do they hurt?” she asked.

  They. Several answers to this question leapt to mind, the most inappropriate rising to the fore. Managing to keep his tone calm, he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “The iron bands around your wrists.”

  Ah. “A little,” he said. “Fetters are not designed to be pleasant. Are you comfortable enough?”

  “Aye, but I am still cold.”

  He settled his cheek upon his bent arm, just as her hand moved, mayhap to adjust her blanket. Her fingers knocked his chin; one fingertip touched his lips.

  Purely on instinct, he turned his head and sucked that fingertip into his mouth.

  Juliana gasped. “Oh!”

  Cease, Edouard! You must! Somehow, though, the shock and delight in her voice held his will captive and forced him on.

  Grazing her skin with his teeth, he drew in more of her finger, until his upper lip touched the knuckle bone where her finger joined her hand. He twirled his tongue around her flesh, while savoring her shocked shivers.

  Her skin tasted sweet. Deliciously so. He inhaled her alluring scent that reminded him of lavender and honey. Mmm . . . Never had he known a woman to smell so good.

  “What”—Juliana breathed—“are you doing?”

  He stilled, aware of the merciless throbbing of his groin. What was he doing? He certainly wasn’t going to seduce her, although knowing Veronique, ’twas exactly what she’d intended by returning Juliana to the drafty tower after a perfumed bath.

  With a wry chuckle, he drew back, releasing her digit. “I was . . . ah . . . warming your finger.”

  The air stirred between them as she snatched her hand away. “Well, I—”

  “’Tis feeling warmer?”

  “Aye, but . . . Do you normally warm fingers that way?”

  She peered at him. He knew it. How readily he pictured her face, set in a winsome expression of both fascination and uncertainty.

  “Not always.” He smiled into the darkness. Before he could stop the reckless words, he said, “Shall I continue?”

  Her startled squawk brought silent laughter welling up inside him.

  “Thank you, but nay. For you to heat up all of my fingers would . . . take awhile.” She sighed. “There must be better ways to get warm.”

  Ah, but there were. He knew plenty that weren’t just efficient, but highly pleasurable . . .

  No more bawdy thoughts. He hadn’t coaxed her over to this pallet to spend a lusty night together, but to offer solace, and thus, persuade her to trust him. Together, they had a better chance of surviving the ordeals ahead and escaping this tower.

  The pallet rustled, and he sensed her yanking on her blanket.

  “I know of a way for both of us to get warm,” he said.

  “I am not sucking on your fingers whilst you do so to mine.”

  He chuckled. “Nay. I will put my arm around you and draw you close.”

  “Is that wise?” Her voice sounded muffled by her blanket.

  Probably not, considering your arousal, his conscience answered. Ignoring the inner warning, he said, “Of course. By sharing our bodies’ heat, we will both become warm. ’Twill grow colder, I vow, before dawn breaks.”

  She shuddered. Her teeth were still chattering. He rose on his elbow and set his arm around her, just as she wriggled up against him.

  As he lowered his head back down onto his forearm, her breath swept against his throat. Her hair glided over his arm at her back, the softness of her tresses a stark contrast to the bite of his restraints.

  Did the iron links trailing across her waist bother her? He hoped not. There wasn’t much he could do about the wretched chain.

  “I feel warmer already,” she murmured.

  “Good.” Gladness swirled up inside him.

  She fitted her body more closely to him, an innocent gesture that, despite the blankets between them, stirred his blood and made his manhood harden all the more. How he wanted. If she realized the physical effect she had upon him, though, she’d likely scramble back to her pallet to spend the rest of the night freezing and alone.

  Carefully shifting his weight, he raised his arm, moving the right chain up and away from her, and rolled onto his back. The links settled beside him with a muffled thud; the chain now trailed along his right arm.

  Juliana followed his change of position to rest her head on his shoulder. With a breathy sigh, she snuggled against him. More than one of his lovers had lain that way after a satisfying coupling. He abruptly shoved the inappropriate thought aside.

  As she settled to stillness, her hand shifted over the front of his tunic; she was likely trying to find a comfortable resting position for her arm. Edouard savored the warmth of her cheek seeping through his tunic to his skin . . . an instant before her fingers flitted over his groin.

  A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  At the feather-light touch, Edouard gas
ped. Shock whipped through him, and he might have heaved upright, except that Juliana lurched away from him.

  Her knees rammed against his leg, while her hand pressed to the center of his chest. He sensed her sitting beside him in the blackness. A groan broke from her, a sound akin to a woman lost in ecstasy.

  Before he could clear his mind of astonishment and lust and form a coherent thought, she moaned. “My head. I should not have sat up so quickly, but . . .”

  But. Aye. His face burned. Chains clinking, he dragged a hand over his jaw, very glad at that moment of the darkness. Did she realize she’d touched his privates? Or would he have to answer awkward questions about what, exactly, she’d felt hidden beneath his tunic? God’s blood, he’d better have a good explanation as to why he was aroused by her.

  “Edouard,” she said softly.

  “Aye?” He braced himself for the first question.

  “What did I . . . touch?”

  “My left thigh.” Edouard, you are a rotten liar!

  “Oh. It did not—”

  “’Tis a buckled scar,” he said hastily. “A wound I got years ago while practicing swordplay.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. He did have a small scar somewhere on that thigh.

  “I did not mean to cause you pain.”

  A startled grunt scratched his throat. Is that what she’d assumed from his gasp?

  “I was trying to get settled. I clearly touched you where it hurt, and I am sorry.”

  He stifled a curse. He hurt all right, but not in the way she imagined. “’Tis all right, Juliana. Lie back down and get warm.”

  She didn’t move, probably because of his gruffness. He hadn’t wanted to sound surly, but his discomfort over the situation had seeped into his tone.

  “I really am sorry, Edouard. You have been kind to worry about my well-being, and truly I . . . would never intentionally hurt you.” She sounded close to tears, no doubt because of exhaustion.

  “Lie down,” he urged, patting her hand flattened to his torso. With a breathy sigh, she nestled against him, taking great care, he noted, not to rest any weight on his left leg.

  “You cannot imagine how frustrating ’tis not to remember my life.” Her voice shook. “When I try to think of my past, I see only a void.”

  He couldn’t bear it if she wept. “Juliana, listen to me—”

  “I want to remember, Edouard.”

  “You will.”

  She sniffled. “When? I cannot wait to recall every bit of my life. Especially what we were, and are, to one another.”

  His stomach twisted. He, too, wanted her to regain her memories. When she did, though, she’d be mortified to remember she’d lain in his arms. She might even accuse him of beguiling her while she suffered a weakened mental state.

  Thus, he must be honest with her now. “As I told you before, we were not lovers.”

  He felt her posture stiffen. “Close friends, then?”

  “Acquaintances.”

  “Never! Edouard, my feelings for you . . .”

  “There are unresolved matters between us. Important ones you will remember one day.”

  She fell silent a moment. “Did you reject my affections for another lady’s?” A pause. “My sister’s?”

  The very thought made him want to spit out vile curses. “Nay, Juliana. I never chose Nara over you.” He struggled against a surge of ever-present resentment.

  “Did you and I have an argument?” she pressed.

  “We had . . . disagreements, for which I am entirely to blame.”

  “Surely we are both partly to blame.” Her hand, settled now in the middle of his chest, gently rubbed across his tunic. “And those matters between us? I vow they can be resolved.”

  “I truly hope so.” She might feel differently, however, when she remembered all.

  “I sense your torment,” she said softly, her words muffled against his garment. “Your body grows tense.”

  He rubbed his brow, ignoring the clink and bump of his chain. Tense didn’t encompass what he was feeling now, with shame and remorse churning inside him.

  Damnation, but he had to be completely truthful with her. “You hated me, Juliana. ’Tis why you feel strong emotion toward me.”

  “I could not hate you.” She sounded dismayed. “Why would you believe that?”

  “’Tis difficult for me to speak of.” Purely on instinct, he turned his head toward her. “How I wish—”

  Her breath puffed against his lips.

  He froze, ensnared by the moment of possibility. Her face was very close. The sweet scent of her skin teased him.

  If he turned his head the tiniest bit more, their mouths would meet.

  At long last, they’d kiss.

  Take the kiss! Claim her mouth, as you have wanted.

  Yearning seared through him. How he wanted to taste her. To show her how much he cared for her. To answer the need driving through his whole body; the fiery ache for her, the one woman he wanted, but could never have.

  Edouard, you cannot. Do not prove yourself to be a dishonorable knave.

  He sensed her readying to nudge forward, to instinctively seal their kiss. With the last shred of his self-control, he jerked his head away.

  Juliana’s exhalation blew against his neck.

  He swallowed, his throat mercilessly tight. His lips burned, as though they really had kissed and the essence of her stayed on his skin.

  Desire and regret pulled at him as he stared up at where the roof trusses would be, listening to the wind scrape past the outside walls. He waited, his muscles taut with strain, expecting her to ask what almost happened between them, but she lay quiet, still, and after a long moment, he decided she must have fallen asleep. He shut his eyes.

  “Did you . . . almost kiss me?” Her words were a velvety whisper from the blackness.

  Aye, his conscience answered. Admitting that, though, wouldn’t be fair to her.

  He drew deep breaths and pretended to be asleep.

  ***

  Sunlight on her face brought Juliana from slumber. She stirred, savoring the divine heat against the side of her face and body. A warmth that . . . snored.

  She squinted against the morning sunshine, to find herself staring at Edouard’s chin, easily within reach if she wished to touch him. Lifting her gaze from the stubble-shadowed line of his jaw, she saw his eyes were still closed. Thick, dark-brown lashes brushed the tanned planes of his cheeks and drew her gaze to his well-defined cheekbones. How arrogant he looked even while sleeping.

  A muffled snort broke from him again, and her focus dropped to his lips, slightly parted. Her mouth tingled at the memory of his breath upon her cheek last night. His face had been very near to hers, and for one thrilling moment, anticipation had burgeoned inside her . . . before he’d abruptly turned his face away.

  Had he thought of kissing her and then decided against it? Had he craved her kiss, but forced himself to rein in his desire? Nay. He was betrothed to Nara; he’d only want such intimacy with his future wife. Juliana fought a sharp twinge of jealousy, for Nara was lucky to have won the love of a man like Edouard.

  For a moment, though, lying beside him, Juliana could secretly dream that he had, indeed, pressed his mouth to hers. The thought of his lips sweeping across hers left a strange, dragging sensation in her lower belly, and she couldn’t hold back a shiver.

  She indulged her fascination, letting her gaze wander over his muscled physique to the chains snaking along the pallet, and her smile wavered. Last night, she’d hurt him. Accidentally, but his gasp had revealed his discomfort. Now that daylight illuminated the chamber, she’d look for that scar he’d spoken of, so she’d be certain not to touch that spot again.

  Juliana dared to let her attention drift lower on his body. His left thigh, he’d said. That was close to his man’s parts . . .

  Oh. She hadn’t touched him there last night, had she?

  A stinging heat spread across her face. Surely he would have told her. Unless, like a ga
llant hero, he wished to spare her the embarrassment of knowing she’d touched his groin.

  She couldn’t be sure what to believe. Even more mortifying, his left thigh was trapped beneath her left leg that, during the night, had slid from the blanket and draped over Edouard’s legs, likely in her attempts to stay warm.

  The sight of their joined limbs stirred a peculiar warmth within her, followed by overwhelming unease. Was she hurting Edouard in the way her leg pressed against him? He didn’t appear to be in pain, but he was also sound asleep.

  She’d have to move carefully, so she didn’t wake or hurt him.

  As Juliana slowly pushed up to a seated position, sounds carried from outside the chamber door. Veronique, on a morning visit? What might she do if she discovered them lying together like lovers? At the very least, Veronique might accuse Edouard of all kinds of indiscretions; Juliana couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She eased her leg from Edouard’s and scrambled to sit up, a bit too quickly. Pain and dizziness made the room spin around her, and she froze, silently begging her mind to settle.

  That same instant, she sensed Edouard awaken.

  The chamber stopped whirling, and she glanced at him, to find his keen gaze upon her. A molten awareness rushed through her, reviving her blush.

  Before she could say a word, the key sounded in the lock.

  She scrambled to rise, but her foot tangled in her blanket. The cloth slipped on the wooden floor. With a choked cry, she dropped back to her former position, bumping against Edouard, who’d just sat up.

  “Careful.” He steadied her with his hands.

  Before she could try to rise again, the door swung inward. Tye walked in, Azarel a few steps behind with a wooden basket on her arm. The door promptly banged shut.

  Tye tsked and raised an eyebrow. “Well, well. Slept together, did you?”

  Juliana bit her lip.

  “We were both cold,” Edouard said. “’Twas the best way to keep warm.”

  “Mmm,” Tye said.

  “What Edouard said is true.” Juliana raised her chin to meet Tye’s lewd grin.

  Azarel, as before, stood silent with her gaze downward, awaiting orders.

  Today, might Juliana be able to ask the healer to contact Edouard’s father? Or help them to escape? Juliana would try to speak to her.