The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

Michelle Willingham

I’ve always loved strong, silent men, and The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin gave me an opportunity to explore a very different kind of hero. It tells the story of Sir Ademar of Dolwyth and Lady Katherine of Ardennes. They share a forbidden liaison on a night when Lady Katherine’s life is falling apart. She finds comfort in the arms of a knight who worships her, and discovers that he’s the man she’s been hoping for all along.

The story is connected to my Harlequin Historical romance novel Taming Her Irish Warrior. If you want to learn more about Lady Katherine’s dilemma with her sister Honora St. Leger and Ewan MacEgan (part of the MacEgan Brothers miniseries), the book will be available in October 2009. While each one can be read separately, I do hope that you’ll try both stories, to experience romance to the full.

I love hearing from readers and you may e-mail me at michelle@michellewillingham.com or by mail at P.O. Box 2242, Poquoson, VA 23662 USA. Visit my website at www.michellewillingham.com.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter One

She stood on the battlements, while heavy rain spattered upon the stones. The woman whose heart he had no hope of winning, Lady Katherine of Ardennes.

Sir Ademar of Dolwyth stood at the doorway, watching her. He couldn’t understand why she was alone on a night such as this. The darkened sky had unleashed a downpour, and yet she stood with her hands clenched. A torch sputtered in an iron sconce, flickering its light upon her pale face before it died out.

He could hardly form two words together when she was near, for she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Black silken hair, and eyes so deep blue they were almost violet. Innocent of the world, too, though she would soon enough become a wife. Her father had decreed it so.

And though the Baron of Ardennes had invited him here, along with the other suitors, Ademar knew Lady Katherine would never consider him for her husband. She was so far above him, it was like reaching for moonlight.

He should leave her to her thoughts. She wouldn’t want him here, stumbling idiot that he was. But the low rolling of thunder caught his attention. It was dangerous for her to remain out of doors. Especially alone.

The summer rain was cold, dampening his hair as he stepped onto the stone walkway. As he drew closer to her, he rehearsed his words, over and over. All he had to do was suggest that she come inside for shelter. Nothing more.

She turned toward him, and anger flashed in her eyes. “I’d rather be alone just now.”

There’s a storm, Ademar wanted to warn her. But his tongue grew thick in his mouth as he tried to form the words. He could only shake his head, the warning tangling up inside him.

He was a man of few words. He’d never been much for speaking, and when he did have something to say, it was an ordeal to get the words out. Often he stammered or spoke words he’d never meant to say. Were it not for his strength in battle, men would have mocked him. Even his father loathed the sight of him.

At last, he took a deep breath. “It—it’s raining.”

As if she didn’t already know that. What kind of a fool did she think he was? Heat warmed his cheeks, and he started to leave, but she called him back.

“Wait, Sir Ademar.”

He froze, almost afraid to see the pity that would surely be upon her face.

Katherine let out a heavy sigh. “You can stay. I’m just not in the mood to converse.” She folded her hands upon the stone merlon while staring out at the inner bailey below.

Neither am I, he thought. Keeping a safe distance from her, he leaned a hand against the back wall, feigning an interest in the soldiers patrolling the castle. A length of black hair slid from beneath her veil and rested against her neck. The forbidden glimpse led his imagination into places it should never have gone. Her cream-colored bliaut molded to her breasts from the rain, and he could almost imagine what it would be like to touch her.

With effort, he snapped his gaze back to the bailey.

“He doesn’t want to marry me,” she half whispered.

He didn’t ask whom she meant. Lady Katherine had lost her heart to Ewan MacEgan, the brother of an Irish king. He’d seen the infatuation in her eyes, and he’d known that she would never look at him in that way.

But what in God’s name did she mean, the Irishman didn’t want to marry her? Only yestereve, she had announced her desire to wed MacEgan.

Had the man refused her?

Ademar didn’t voice the question, for it was clear she didn’t want to discuss it. He wanted to tell her that the man was a fool, to offer her sympathy in the selfish hope that she might look upon him differently. Instead, he removed his cloak, and handed it to her.

Lady Katherine met his gaze as she accepted the garment. She wrapped the wool around herself, and he supposed it was as close to an embrace as he’d ever get. “You don’t have to stay,” she said quietly.

“I want to.” It was the truth. And though he didn’t know how he dared come closer, he moved beside her. He rested his own palms upon the wet stone wall, wishing he had the courage to say more.

But he would only sound like a stuttering fool. And so he held his tongue.

“My sister is going to wed Ewan MacEgan now,” Katherine said softly. She kept her gaze averted from his. “I suppose she told you.”

He shrugged. Though he’d briefly entertained the idea of marrying Honora St. Leger, Katherine’s older, widowed sister, his courtship had lasted only a few days. Honora had been visibly embarrassed by it, claiming she didn’t want to wed any man.

“I was never the…the sort of man she wanted.” He shielded any expression on his face, for he didn’t want Katherine to pity him. Though he’d admired Honora, she’d been unable to go through with the betrothal. At least she’d had the honesty to break things off between them, apologizing for what she’d done.

He should have resented her for it. But he felt nothing. Only a strange sense of relief.

A cold hand covered his, and he almost jerked away in surprise. Lady Katherine ventured a chagrined smile. “We are a pair, aren’t we? Both of us cast off by the ones we loved.”

Out of rough instinct, his fingers closed over her small palm. Like a delicate shell, one he could crush without thinking. He felt ham-handed, awkward. And yet, he didn’t want to let go of her.

Katherine glanced down at the stones below. Frustration tightened her features. “Which of us should jump first?”

An unexpected laugh escaped him. “It would be a mortal sin to take our own lives.”

“They’ve been ruined anyhow,” Katherine muttered. She started to pull her hand away, but his fingers couldn’t quite let her go.

Palm to palm, skin to skin, he grasped her other hand. And Katherine didn’t pull away.

She was going to let go of his hands. At any moment now.

Katherine lifted her gaze to the Norman knight standing before her. Exceptionally tall, with blond hair and a tightly honed form, she wondered what in the name of Heaven she was doing with Sir Ademar. She barely knew him, though they had spent the better part of a fortnight in each other’s company. He was one of several suitors who had come to ask for her hand in marriage.

But he wasn’t the man she’d wanted.

Oh, Sir Ademar was a kind enough person. He rarely spoke, and he was by far one of the most skilled fighters. If she hadn’t let herself be so caught up by Ewan MacEgan, she might have considered him.

Just the thought of Ewan made her want to strike her fist against the stone wall. He’d apologized, saying that he’d wronged her. He said he’d never meant to fall in love with Honora.

Her sister was a woman unafraid of anything. Legendary with a sword, Honora could fight against any man and win. Katherine had envied her strength.

Silently, she wished that she weren’t the good sister. What had that gotten her, but a broken heart? Bitterness bled through her veins like acid.

Only last night, she’d seen her sister and Ewan embracing each other. Touching one another as though nothing else in the world existed. Certainly not her.

Katherine didn’t care that it was raining, that her entire body was frigid with cold. Never before had she been so furious, so intent on striking out at the two people closest to her. She wanted to punish both Ewan and Honora, to do something wicked. To hurt them, the way she was hurting inside.

Without thinking, she tore her hands from Ademar’s grip. She took his face, pulling him down into her kiss. His mouth was warm and wet, something she hadn’t expected. She tasted the wine of his breath, mingled with rain. Her skin warmed immediately, while something forbidden awakened within her.

Ademar kissed her back, dragging her against his hard body. It didn’t seem to matter that their clothes were soaked, that he was hardly more than a stranger. A rush of longing roared inside her, wanting his touch.

Was this what it felt like, to betray someone? Wanton and hot?

He broke free, and her cheeks burned scarlet. What in the name of all that was holy had she done?

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I was angry for what happened today.” Tears thickened the back of her throat, for she wasn’t at all sorry about kissing him. The only thing she was sorry about was that she’d used him.

Thank Heaven, he didn’t speak. With his thumb, he brushed a wet lock of hair out of her eyes, guiding it behind her ear. She trembled at the touch of his hand. The rain continued to batter at both of them, clinging to her gown. It felt as though the drops were pounding against her bare flesh. Her nipples tightened, rising from the cold.

He was staring at her, as though he’d never seen her before.

“Sir Ademar?” she whispered. “What do—”

He grasped her nape, tilting her face up to meet his. He kissed her again, slowly. His lips took hers in a sensual onslaught, and she leaned in, letting him learn the shape of her mouth.

She had kissed men before, but not a man such as Ademar. He kissed her as though he couldn’t stop himself, as though he needed her. When his tongue gently edged her mouth, she opened to him.

His tongue slid inside, sleek and wet. Her body yearned for more, and she gasped as his hands moved down to her hips. He pulled her against himself, and she felt the hardness of his desire for her.

She wound her arms around his neck, and his mouth drifted down to her throat. Teasing, tasting him, she moaned. His knee nudged between her thighs, as his palms cupped her bottom. Fire. The rush of need made her desire him.

He brought his mouth to her ear, whispering, “I’ve never…kissed a woman before.”

The admission stunned her. A man as handsome as Sir Ademar? Easily one of the strongest men she knew, he’d nearly won the tournament her father had hosted.

“I find that hard to believe.” Especially given the way he made her feel. Her heart thrummed inside her chest, her body restless and unfulfilled.

But when she saw the embarrassment on his face, she realized he was speaking the truth. He’d forgotten himself, just as she had.

“Y-y-you need to come out of the rain,” he stammered. His cheeks reddened at the error in his speech, and she understood then that his usual silence was not from a stoic demeanor. In the past, he had muttered his words, struggling to speak. She’d thought it was nervous behavior, the mark of a shy man.

It intrigued her, for his kiss was anything but shy.

“I don’t want to return to my chamber,” Katherine told him. She did not want to exchange more words with her sister, nor hear Honora’s excuses. She needed time away, time to gather her thoughts.

Ademar held out his hand. “I’ll find a place for you.”

“For us,” she corrected. “You need to dry your clothing as well.” His garments were as soaked as her own, his tunic, braies, and chausses plastered to his body. Lean and muscled, his body showed the signs of training. Beneath his clothing, there would be scars as well, for all warriors bore such markings.

Even her sister. Troubled thoughts welled up inside.

You aren’t like Honora. And you never will be. You don’t have her courage or her strength.

And once Katherine chose a husband, he would see the truth: that beneath her industrious air and smooth ability to run an estate, lay a woman who let fear dominate her.

“Will you come with me?” Ademar asked, his hand still outstretched.

She hesitated, for she sensed that it wasn’t a wise decision to make. She should return to her own chamber, to her own bed. Just as a good daughter would.

Her frustration flared up again. Obedience hadn’t served any purpose. She’d lost the man she’d wanted and now faced the humiliation of having to wed a different man. Whereas Honora had defied all the rules and won Ewan for herself.

Ademar saw her hesitation and let his hand fall back to his side. Upon his face, she saw the same dejection she felt. And though it was wrong, though she would regret her actions come the morn, Katherine nodded. “I’ll come.”

Ademar wasn’t certain how he managed to build a small blaze without burning his fingers. It took all of his effort to keep his hands from shaking. He’d ordered his men-at-arms to leave, not allowing them to see Lady Katherine. She deserved a chance to warm herself without any idle tongues questioning why she was here. But even so, it was dangerous, being in this chamber alone with her.

What had possessed her to kiss him? Never in a thousand years had he expected such a thing. He couldn’t understand her reasons why.

It was true; he had never kissed a woman before. As a young man, his father had made sport of him, taunting his speech difficulties until none of the women looked upon him with desire. Due to his rank, he could have had any of them, but he didn’t want a woman who considered him an object of scorn. He had no idea what Katherine thought of him. But at this moment, his senses were captivated by her.

She stood before the fire. Her silhouette was visible under the wet gown, and her rosy nipples were hard nubs beneath the fabric. The undeniable instinct to touch her was starting to wear down his honor.

Ademar turned his back, trying to hide his physical reaction to her. God above, he needed to stand outside in the rain for another hour, just to quell the unbidden response.

Her hand moved to his tunic, which clung to his torso like a wet skin. “You should take this off.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though it meant nothing for him to bare his chest before her. But he hardly knew what he was doing here, much less what she wanted from him.

He knew exactly what he wanted from her. And nothing about it was honorable.

Right now, he wanted to peel away her wet clothing, to taste her cool flesh, kissing a path down to her breasts. His body ached to touch hers, to join with her in the most intimate of ways. Although he might not have experienced the warmth of a woman’s body, he’d heard stories from his brothers, and he’d kept the information, knowing that one day he would put it to use.

Damn it all, he wanted to lie with her, to possess her as only a husband should. And knowing that she would never choose a man like him, made it all the more difficult to keep his hands to himself.

“I shouldn’t be here with you,” Katherine said. “My father would have me beaten if he knew.”

And Nicholas of Ardennes would have the flesh flayed from Ademar’s own skin. It was worth it, he decided. Even though he’d have to let her go, he would always remember her kiss.

“I’ll leave,” he offered. “Or I can send a maid to you.”

Though he had moved toward the door, Katherine stepped in front of him, hindering his path. Her dark blue eyes studied him, as though she couldn’t quite make a decision. Her hands clasped, then unclasped before her fingers touched her lips. “I’ve never…done something like that before. Kissed a man for no reason.”

She rubbed her shoulders as if trying to ward off a chill. “I wanted you to know it. I was angry at my sister and Ewan, and I just…” Her explanation faded away.

Just what? he wanted to ask. A thousand questions rose up, but he couldn’t speak a single word without feeling like a fool. Instead, he stood before her, the unbearable silence rising up like a shield.

She flushed. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Moving aside, Katherine gave him an open walkway to the door. She stared at the floor, as though she’d humiliated herself with the admission.

She was hurting right now. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself. He wanted to tell her that the kiss she’d bestowed had been an unexpected gift. That she was a woman worthy of being loved, even if he could never be the man she wanted.

Words. He needed words right now. But he was trapped in a maelstrom of tangled thoughts and useless phrases. If he opened his mouth, nothing would make sense.

She was leaning against the wall, gripping her arms as though despair had settled over her, and he spied a tear slipping from beneath her lashes.

Had he made her cry? Or was she dreaming of Ewan MacEgan, grieving for her loss?

Ademar moved in front of her, tilting her chin up to look at him. He slid his fingers into her hair, tossing aside the wet veil, and framing her face with his clumsy hands.

He kissed her. With his mouth, he tried to tell her that she was beautiful. He savored the taste of her lips, like sweet grapes.

She lifted her arms around him once more, and he opened his mouth, dipping his tongue into her depths the way he wanted to enter her body. She was trembling now, her skin prickling with goose flesh.

Without asking permission, he pulled her into his arms and brought her near the hearth. Turning her to face the flames, he lifted the wet gown away from her skin, trying to warm it. And her.

Katherine didn’t speak, but peeled away the wet bliaud and underdress. The layers fell away until she stood in her linen shift, barefoot. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing the outline of her neck, down her slender shoulders, to rest upon her waist. Her bottom rested against his hard length, and she deliberately pressed against him.

“This is sinful,” she whispered, holding his hands in hers. “But I don’t care. I want to be wicked right now.”

She drew his arms to cross over her breasts. He could feel the plump curves of them, and he tried to distract himself with kissing her nape.

Then she moved his palms to her nipples, and he grew even harder. He could barely breathe, he knew not what she was doing. He spread out his fingers, letting them splay over the large handful. Then he gently squeezed the flesh, and she gasped.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he didn’t know what to do. This was about her, about making her understand how much he cared. He experimented with his touch, gently caressing her as though she were made of silk. He learned the amount of pressure she liked, and when she leaned in, he rubbed his thumbs over the ridged tips, responding to her sighs of need.

But he wanted more.

Ademar turned her around and laid her down upon his bed. Gently, he lowered her shift to just beneath her breasts. Exposed to the air, he saw the lovely pink nipples, blooming beneath his touch. She tried to cover herself, but he bent low and took one into his mouth, warming it with his tongue.

Her breathing quickened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held his head to her breast, her fingers sliding into his hair. He gave the same heated kisses to her other breast, and no longer did he have a coherent thought in his head. He was driven by raw need, the desire to give her pleasure. And in her responses, in the flushed skin and throaty moans, he took his own fulfillment.

She moved her palms beneath his tunic, lifting it off until she traced the muscles of his chest. His heart was racing, but he cupped her heavy breasts, kissing her mouth again with a shaking need.

“We sh-should stop,” he muttered, hating the stammer that escaped him.

“Don’t.” While there was fear in her eyes, there was also the haze of undeniable passion. She explored him with her hands, touching his skin as though she couldn’t get enough. With her bare breasts pressed against his chest, she pulled him atop her until his erection was nestled between her thighs.

It was a prelude to something else, and the idea of breaching her virginity was unthinkable. This had gone too far already.

But then, she raised up her knees, and her shift fell away, baring her legs to him. “Make me forget about Ewan,” she pleaded.

The words stopped him cold, for he realized what this was truly about. She wanted to lose herself in a moment she would regret, come the dawn. Anger he hadn’t known he could feel suddenly raged.

What had he believed, that she would actually desire a man like him? That she could look past his speech and see the man beneath?

She was using him. It was never about wanting him or desiring him.

Was she pretending he was Ewan? Had she allowed the Irishman to touch her in this way? If he fulfilled her secret longings, would she cry out Ewan’s name?

A vicious jealousy tightened in his gut. Once, just once, he wanted a woman to desire him for himself. Not to be used as a pawn.

He almost pushed her away. But then, darkness claimed his sense of reason, for she was with him now, wasn’t she? He might not be the man she wanted, but she had turned to him during this time of hurting.

He leaned over her, stroking her damp hair with a tenderness he almost didn’t feel. “When I’ve finished with you, my lady, you won’t even remember his name.”

Chapter Two

Katherine was well aware that she’d made him angry. There was a tension there, a sense that she’d struck an invisible wound.

When he kissed her again, there was a hard edge to the embrace. Ademar had become the man she’d seen fighting in the tournament, single-minded and ruthless. Though she’d known he was a purposeful man, she’d never felt that attention directed toward herself.

If his claim that she was the first woman he’d ever touched was true, then he possessed natural instincts. His roughened hands moved over her knees, sliding up her bared thighs. She was completely exposed to him, and second thoughts began to take apart her intentions.

When his mouth closed over her breast again, she lost the ability to breathe. He tasted her skin, swirling his tongue over her erect nipple. Blowing softly, he bit at the tip.

She cried out at the contact, and he soothed her skin with his mouth, seeming to understand that he’d been too rough. His large hands moved over her ribs, pressing kisses upon her skin until she shivered.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, dragging her gown lower until it tangled around her limbs. At last, he removed her shift until she was completely naked.

Cold reality swept over her as surely as his warm body covered hers. He was right. They needed to stop now, before she made an irrevocable mistake.

“Ademar,” she whispered, lifting his face to hers. With her thumbs, she traced the hardness of his mouth, trying to soften him.

His hand moved between her thighs, caressing the unexpected wetness. The touch was nothing she’d ever experienced before, and she forgot what she’d meant to say. While his mouth drifted downward, he explored her with his fingertips. Stroking her silken hair, sliding over her cleft, into the place where she would take a man. Physical frustration reared up, an aching need to be filled.

He slid a long finger into her depths, and her back arched with a sharp reflex. Katherine’s eyes flew open, and she stared into his intense gaze.

Ademar of Dolwyth, a knight who had never really caught her interest. Handsome, but awkward in speech, she’d hardly noticed him. He’d seemed so tentative.

There was nothing tentative about him now. He watched her as though he wanted to devour her. He caressed her until she was writhing beneath him, grasping the coverlet as though it would grant her the release she craved.

Her mind was shrieking for her to stop this madness, to force him to leave her. She had meant only for him to kiss her, not to become her lover.

But when his mouth lowered to the entrance of her body, she couldn’t stop the cries that escaped her. He licked her folds, teasing her mercilessly with bold strokes while she grasped his head. Ecstasy roared through her, so violent that tears escaped her eyes.

Ademar jerked her into his arms, holding her tight as the floodgates unleashed within her body. She hung onto him as though he was her haven in the midst of a storm.

When it was done, Ademar settled back to look at her, one hand resting upon her shoulder. He was still clothed from the waist down, damp from the rain. While she was utterly revealed to him. He shrank back from her, as though he’d crossed an invisible line.

What had she been thinking? Her anger had taken her past the brink of reason, until now she had nearly seduced a stranger. What man wanted a woman who threw herself at him?

“We have to stop,” she whispered.

He was still watching her, his hooded eyes giving away none of his thoughts.

Katherine pulled her shift back on, her cheeks flaming at her nudity. This act of rebellion had backfired, making her self-conscious about what she’d done. She had wanted to punish her sister, particularly since Honora had considered Ademar for a potential husband.

But instead, she’d flung herself into an uncertain future. Ademar was a man her father might ask her to wed. And right now, she couldn’t be certain if he was the one she wanted.

Ademar held the door open for Katherine. She was fully dressed, and from the composed expression on her face, it would seem that nothing had happened between them.

“You don’t have to escort me back,” she said, not looking at him.

As if he would allow her to walk alone, when it was long past midnight. Instead, he tightened his grip in what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. But as before, he couldn’t unravel his thoughts.

When they reached the single corridor leading to her chamber, he saw shadows ahead. He stopped her, keeping his hand poised upon his sword.

“Wait.”

Katherine obeyed, leaning up against the wall. He recognized the soldiers, and so did she.

“Those are John St. Leger’s men,” she whispered, her voice turning alarmed. “What are they doing outside my chamber at this hour?”

He didn’t like it either. John St. Leger was the new Baron of Ceredys and Honora’s older stepson. Ademar didn’t trust the man, and his dislike had only heightened during the last sennight.

“Honora fled Ceredys to get away from him,” Katherine confessed. “John wants her to return to the estate.”

“That isn’t all he wants,” Ademar said grimly. He’d seen the way the baron watched Honora, and though they were related through marriage, the man’s lust was evident.

Under the circumstances, Ademar didn’t like the thought of John’s men nearby, even if the soldiers had done nothing. He tried to gather the right words. “Do you want me to—that is, I could—if you wish it, I could guard your—”

Katherine covered his mouth with her hand, a faint smile upon her face. His posture went rigid, and he longed to cut out his stumbling tongue.

“I don’t need you to remain guard,” she murmured, so close to his face he could feel her cheek against his. “Send them away with a warning. That will be enough.”

He forced himself to slow down when he spoke. “It’s only…a few…hours until dawn. I’ll stay.”

Katherine stood upon her toes, her hands resting upon his shoulders. It tempted him to drag her forward and capture her lips once more. After the time they’d spent together this night, he felt himself standing upon unstable ground. In a matter of days, his future had been tossed like a handful of dice.

He wanted Katherine as his bride, now more than ever. But she was in love with another man, a man she couldn’t have. Even so, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Needing a distraction, he strode forward, glaring at the soldiers. He eyed each one of them, then drew his sword in a palpable threat. He spoke only a single word, but he made sure they heard the warning.

“Leave.”

“Our orders are to escort the Lady Honora—”

Ademar touched the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. Nicking the flesh, he repeated his command. The soldier backed away, his hands raised up in surrender. The rest of the men retreated without protest.

“Thank you,” Katherine said, touching her hand to the door. Ademar inclined his head, stepping back into the shadows. The flickering torchlight cast a golden glow against her skin. Although her clothes were dry and nothing appeared out of place, he saw the vulnerability on Katherine’s face. No doubt she was starting to form regrets.

“I won’t…tell anyone,” he managed.

“I know. You have too much honor.” A furtive smile edged her lips, before she added, “It was my fault. It won’t happen again.” Moments later, the door closed behind her.

Ademar positioned himself outside the chamber, wondering what he could possibly do to change her mind.

Katherine closed her eyes tightly against the morning sun. Last night she’d barely slept at all. Her thoughts had been tangled up in Ademar, in the way he’d touched her, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in his arms. She had felt beloved.

By the Virgin, the man could kiss. She’d never known it, never expected it. Ewan had kissed her once, and although it had been unexpected and wonderful, it hadn’t shaken her world apart. Not the way Ademar’s kiss had. She hadn’t been driven to do desperate things, nor to cast aside her virtue. For truth be told, she had nearly given the stoic knight everything he’d wanted.

The very thought made her skin flush with discomfort. She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric abrading her skin.

How could she face him later today? Though Ademar had claimed he would say nothing to anyone, she didn’t know if he would stay away from her.

Or if she would want him to.

What would it be like as his wife? He had earned his knighthood and was an earl’s son, albeit the second born. Certainly, he had land of his own and modest holdings. An accomplished fighter, he had the strength and means to protect an estate.

Blessed saints above. Why was she even thinking about Ademar in this way? She didn’t know him well enough. And…he wasn’t Ewan.

Katherine clenched the sheets, wishing she could rip out her feelings and let them go. She wanted to forget about MacEgan and her girlish infatuation. But it hurt to know that she wasn’t wanted. Her best efforts to be the perfect match for him had met with nothing but failure.

She heard Honora awaken and rise from the pallet on the floor. Though her sister had shared her room since returning to Ardennes, last night they had kept their distance from one another. Katherine had wanted to lash out at her sister, to strike her down and punish her. But it would not change the fact that Ewan loved Honora.

It would have been easier to hate her sister, if her sister had deliberately set out to take Ewan away from her. Instead, Honora had offered to give him up, to travel to Normandy to stay with their mother’s family.

“You won’t go to Normandy,” she’d told her sister. “Go with Ewan.”

“I can’t. Not after what I did to you—” Honora protested.

“This isn’t about me anymore. He told me he thinks of me like his sister.” Bitterness and rage flared up inside her. “Do you know how I felt? The man I fell in love with doesn’t want me at all.” Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. “If I can’t have him, at least I can be sure that he’s happy without me.”

Katherine dried her tears, trying to gather up the shreds of her pride. “Go with him, Honora. And don’t return here again. I’ve no wish to see you.”

But that had been a lie. She’d always been close to her sister. As young girls, they had spent many nights talking long past midnight, sharing secrets in the dark. Honora had been her dearest friend. And while the betrayal had sliced her heart open, she didn’t truly want her sister to suffer.

The bleakness she felt wasn’t only from the loss of Ewan. It was from the loss of her sister.

With a brief glance, Katherine saw that Honora was red-eyed, her shoulders slumped forward in misery as she packed her belongings.

“I am sorry,” Honora whispered.

Katherine kept her eyes closed, not responding. Her sister’s apology was weighted with guilt. And though she wanted to say something, she couldn’t quite bring herself to bridge the distance. When she thought of Ewan and the way Honora had embraced him, silent tears burned her cheeks.

She was going to let herself grieve, and then she would let Ewan go. She would find her own happiness, somehow.

She thought of Ademar’s strong arms and the way she had felt safe within them. Right now, she wanted to rest her cheek against his chest, to breathe in his masculine scent and know that at least someone cared about her. It consoled her to think of him. He wouldn’t let her be alone.

Honora left their chamber, and Katherine sat up, needing to say something. She wanted to tell her sister that she hadn’t really meant the angry words. She didn’t want Honora to leave without at least trying to mend things between them.

Katherine pushed the coverlet aside and drew near to the door, fumbling to find the right words. An apology was the best start, she decided. And then…she would bid Honora a safe journey and happiness. It was the right thing to do, though she had no doubt the words would taste bitter upon her tongue.

The sounds of muffled voices caught her attention. Men’s voices, mingled with her sister’s. The arguing grew louder, and abruptly, her sister cried out for help, “Katherine!”

Her heart fearing the worst, Katherine threw open the door. Two men were dragging her sister away, while Sir Ademar fought off a third.

She tore down the hallway, racing after her sister. A moment later, Ademar ran toward John’s chamber with his sword drawn, but it was too late. The door closed in their faces, and she heard the unmistakable sound of someone lowering the heavy wooden bolt.

“You have to help Honora,” Katherine insisted, raising her fist to strike out at the door.

Ademar caught her wrist and gently pressed her up against the wall. “Go back, Katherine.”

“No. I won’t let John hurt her.”

“And neither will I. But look.” He stepped back, and Katherine realized she was still wearing her shift and nothing else. “You cannot confront him h-half clothed.”

He removed his cloak and gave it to her. Katherine wrapped herself in the garment, feeling the heat of his body through the wool.

“I’ll get your sister out. I promise you.”

She met his gaze and saw the warrior’s intensity. His vow was not made lightly.

“Protect her,” Katherine pleaded. The thought of her sister coming to harm was unthinkable, regardless of what Honora had done. Ademar caressed her cheek, and she covered his fingers with her own.

“You have my vow.”

Chapter Three

Katherine forced herself to return to her chamber, murmuring silent prayers for her sister. Ademar was right—she could do nothing yet. The best way to help Honora was to alert their father and ask for his intervention. Surely Nicholas would come to Honora’s assistance.

She dressed quickly and was about to leave, when she spied her sister’s chest. Although Honora had already taken her belongings, perhaps she’d left behind a weapon.

Reaching for the secret latch, Katherine removed the false bottom and revealed a chain-mail suit of armor. She was the only one who knew of her sister’s secret fighting talents.

And though she admitted her jealousy, she wasn’t entirely defenseless. She knew how to use a blade, though perhaps not with Honora’s skill.

After a thorough search, there was still no dagger or sword to be found. Katherine let out a curse, but likely Honora had her weapons with her. It was just as well; her sister needed some means of defending herself.

Her chamber door opened without warning, and Ademar stood there. His form seemed to fill up the doorway, and her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him.

“Your father is out hunting. I sent one of my men to fetch him.” He entered the chamber, and Katherine saw a length of rope in his hand.

“What is that for?”

After Ademar had haltingly finished explaining, Katherine stared at him. “You’ve gone mad.”

There was a stubborn glint in his eye that suggested he didn’t agree. “It will work.”

“It won’t. She’ll be hurt, and then she won’t be able to—”

Her throat grew tight, but Ademar prompted gently, “Won’t be able to do what?”

“Catch up to Ewan,” she finished. “He was leaving at dawn. I told her to go with him.”

Ademar hefted the rope over one shoulder. “Did you?” His voice was soft, holding a hint of curiosity.

“He loves her. The way he doesn’t love me.” The words were full of self-pity, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Ademar stared at her, and in his blue eyes, she saw a hunger. A shiver ripped through her as though he had physically touched her. “Then he’s a fool, isn’t he?”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, and as before, she found herself responding to him. Confusion warred with her purpose, and her fingers closed over the edge of the chest.

“Do you really think you can get her out?” she asked. “It’s a great risk.”

He nodded. “She’ll h-have time to catch up to Ewan on horseback.” Seeming to read the doubts on her face, he added, “Trust me. And John will… face the penalty when your father arrives.”

Katherine used both arms to lift the armor, straining under its weight. “Take this to my sister. She can use it to disguise herself and get out of the castle.”

Ademar accepted the chain mail, but caught her by the nape. His fingers slipped beneath her veil and into her hair. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly. “Wait for me here.”

The brief touch of his lips wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste more of him, to lose herself in his kiss and feel his hard body pressing against hers.

When Ademar left, her mind imagined all the things that could go wrong. And though it might not be wise, she waited a brief moment and then followed him.

Ademar tied the thick rope to one of the stone merlons, above the window where John was holding Honora prisoner. He lowered himself down, praying that the woven hemp would hold his weight. When he was above the battlements, he dropped the armor for Honora to retrieve. Though he doubted if she could manage the weight of the suit, it was her best hope of escaping the castle grounds undetected.

His muscles strained as he lowered himself over the side wall. Almost there…

A twinge of guilt pricked him, for he hadn’t told Katherine everything he’d learned. According to the seneschal, Nicholas of Ardennes had indeed granted John permission to escort Honora back to Ceredys.

By any means necessary.

The baron was furious with Honora for ruining Katherine’s marriage hopes, and this was his punishment to a headstrong daughter. Though Ademar couldn’t understand why Lord Ardennes would turn his back upon his daughter, he would do his best to free Honora. With any luck, no one would be hurt.

He reached the window and jerked in surprise when the shutters clattered open. Honora stared back at him. “What are you doing?” Her dark hair was cut short against her neck, and it stood out in wild disarray.

Ademar swung inside the chamber, holding onto the rope. He saw Honora’s guard lying unconscious on the floor, along with a length of linen wrapped around the man’s throat. “Your sister told me what…happened. She thought you might need help.”

“Why didn’t you alert my father?”

There was a desperation in Honora’s eyes, and Ademar struggled to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit the truth. Honora was distraught enough without him revealing that her own father had advocated such a punishment.

“This way was ah—that is to say, I found it would be…m-more interesting. Get you out without anyone kn-knowing about it.”

He glared down at the floor, wishing he could have explained himself without sounding quite so foolish.

“More interesting?”

“Less trouble. And, no—no one gets hurt.” His cheeks burned, and he hoped she would hurry up and take the rope. There wasn’t much time before John would return.

Honora looked uneasy. “How do you suggest I get down?”

“I’ll help you…to the battlements,” he said. “We need to move now.”

Though she reached for the rope, terror lined her face. “I’d rather fight the guards outside the door.”

As if in answer to her comment, the door started to open. Ademar slammed his weight against it, and ordered, “Go!”

She wasn’t moving fast enough, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep the guards from entering. He struggled to bar the door.

“Swing toward the battlements. You’ll find what you need to g-get out of the castle.”

He gritted his teeth, and finally managed to lower the bar amidst the pounding of the soldiers. “Ewan will b-be miles from here by now.”

Honora crawled through the window, balancing on the sill before she reached for the rope once more. Glancing back at him, she sent him a thankful smile. “You’re a true hero, Sir Ademar.”

He didn’t answer, for his motives weren’t at all innocent. He’d done this for Katherine, because he wanted her gratitude.

He made certain the rope was steady for Honora and watched her lower herself down. Only when she was dressed in the armor did he turn back.

Damn. The fallen guard had regained consciousness. Before he could stop him, the man lifted the bar and opened the door. Ademar had only a moment to unsheathe his sword before John’s men came pouring inside the chamber.

Katherine’s arms burned with the effort, but she managed to lower herself down the rope. When she neared John’s chamber, she heard the clanging of swords and the sounds of fighting.

Oh, saints. When she glanced inside the window, she saw Ademar surrounded by three men. John was not among them, and she prayed he would not find her sister.

Like a berserker, Ademar swung his sword at his enemies, blow for blow. Katherine slipped inside, keeping her back to the wall and her eyes upon the men. She needed a weapon of her own, some way to help him.

Her gaze fell upon the soldier closest to her. He spied her and reached out, likely planning to use her as a hostage. Katherine threw herself to the floor, rolling under his feet to trip him. When his sword slipped free of his palm, she reached for it.

Honora was not the only one who knew how to wield this weapon.

Katherine slashed upward, the blade cutting into the soldier’s flesh. His eyes widened as the blade ended his life.

Just as she stood up, Ademar roared a warning. As Katherine sidestepped, he dove forward with his sword, taking the full impact of the blade against his own weapon. The third soldier spun, slicing at Ademar’s head. Katherine tried to block the attack, but the blade tip sliced Ademar’s temple, and the knight sank to his knees. The soldier fled the chamber without looking back.

Blood poured from Ademar’s wound, and the sight of it made her dizzy. Not now, Katherine prayed. She loathed blood, and the idea of having to sew up his wound made her stomach pitch. “Are you all right?”

He grimaced, reaching his hand to his head. “I think so.”

The blood continued to stream downward. “It’s not…too bad.” He stumbled forward, easing onto a chair. “What in God’s name were you thinking, trying to use a sword against those men?”

“You needed my help. And I knew how to use the weapon.” Katherine took off her veil and pressed it to his head, trying not to look at the blood. She sent up another silent plea: Let it stop bleeding on its own.

His blue eyes pierced hers. “You could have been hurt.”

She flushed, uncomfortable with his harsh tone. “So could you.” Gripping her hands together, she realized she was shaking.

Ademar reached out to her, as if he needed to touch her. She expelled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Don’t ever risk yourself on my account.”

She wanted to protest that she wouldn’t have done this for anyone else. But at the sight of his blood, the room was starting to sway. Below, she saw the bodies of John’s men, and her stomach lurched.

“I want to leave this chamber,” she insisted. “Now.”

She didn’t wait for him to agree, but escaped into the hallway. The soft sounds of his footsteps followed her. When she reached her chamber, she grasped the wooden post of her bed, trying to force away the dizziness.

“I’d forgotten…how much head wounds bleed,” Ademar muttered. He cursed beneath his breath. “Could you help me with this?”

Katherine took a step backwards. Her knees were quaking at the thought of having to ply a needle to his flesh. She swallowed hard.

“You need a true healer, not me.” She gripped the bedpost so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “I’m not like Honora. She’s good at healing and—and—I—”

Her legs buckled, and she held fast to the bedpost. A rush of noise filled her ears, and the chamber swayed. Desperately, she tried to regain control of herself, but to no avail. The vision of Ademar’s blood overcame her, and she crumpled to the floor.

Katherine awoke with her head in his lap. She stared up at Ademar, who was still clutching her veil to his head.

Oh, saints. She was truly the most pathetic woman in all of England. How could she possibly have fainted, when Ademar needed her help?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, forcing herself to sit up. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“It’s all right.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “The bleeding has mostly stopped.”

“It’s not all right.” She pressed her hand to his temple. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Gingerly, she lifted aside the veil. His blond hair was matted with blood, the wound swollen and bruised. A small cut, the width of her finger, was bleeding, though it had slowed to a dull flow.

She should summon a healer, someone who knew how to care for the wound. But she felt responsible for what had happened. He’d been hurt while trying to protect her.

It humiliated her, that she’d fainted instead of helping him. He would think her a coward, a fact which bothered her deeply. She had to redeem herself, to somehow overcome her fears.

“I need to stitch this,” she said, getting up from the floor. Though she had never sewn a cut before, she would force herself to get through the task. Taking a deep breath, she retrieved her needle and a length of silk thread.

Ademar sat down upon the chair once more, quietly awaiting her attentions. His hands rested on his knees, which lay slightly apart. Katherine drew near, and he placed his hands on her waist, almost in an embrace.

She looked into his deep blue eyes, and saw understanding in them. “I’m afraid of hurting you,” she admitted. “I’ve never stitched a wound before.”

“It’s all right,” he said. He lowered his head to allow her to reach. His hands remained about her waist, and the light touch bolstered her courage.

You must do this. He needs you.

She bit her lip hard, determined not to faint again. She threaded the needle, then sponged off the blood and examined the cut. It would require three stitches, she guessed. But the act of piercing his flesh was unsettling.

His thumbs caressed her spine in silent encouragement. Katherine took a deep breath and steeled herself. When her needle pricked his skin, he didn’t move. Only the tension in his arms showed that she had done anything.

The slickness upon her fingers was starting to bother her, so she stitched as fast as she could, using his knife to cut the thread. She blotted the wound once more, and it remained closed.

Ademar stood up. “Thank you, my lady.”

It was done now. Relief poured over her, but her knees were still wobbly. Her uneasiness had little to do with the stitching. And everything to do with being so close to him.

She touched his face, examining him for other cuts or bruises. A small scar edged his throat, one she’d not noticed earlier.

“What are you doing, Katherine?” he murmured, his large hands stroking her spine. He brought her closer, so that she was almost sitting in his lap. And Lord help her, she wanted to rest against him, to feel the heat of his kiss and release some of her unbearable tension.

But instead, she stepped backwards. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Was that the only place where you were hurt?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze indiscernible. Rising to his feet, he towered over her.

“Thank you for helping my sister,” Katherine managed.

“She isn’t safe yet.” Ademar strode over to the window, looking out upon the inner bailey. “She still has to find Ewan. And John might pursue her.”

Katherine exhaled, hoping her sister would escape. Perhaps her father would agree to send escorts to help Honora, despite their disagreements.

She rested her hand upon Ademar’s shoulder, drawing comfort from his nearness. Though she didn’t know how it had happened, his steady presence made her feel safe.

Beloved.

He turned toward her, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he would kiss her again. His hand moved to her nape, threading through her long braid.

“I don’t trust John,” Katherine whispered. “He’s not going to let Honora go, is he?”

Ademar shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“She’s alone. Someone should escort her and ensure that she finds Ewan.” She touched his cheek, imploring him, “Will you go?”

His blue eyes locked into hers and she saw the ruthless air once more. “Only if you marry me.”

Chapter Four

It was an hour before sunset. Ademar had tracked Honora’s path toward Wales, and it wouldn’t be long before they found her. Though he’d intended to go alone, Katherine had refused to be left behind. She struggled to keep up with his furious pace, and her posture sagged on horseback.

His betrothed. He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to wed him. Not when there were men better spoken than himself, with vast holdings far beyond that of his own estate.

Ademar gripped the reins of his horse, uneasy about what he’d done. What kind of man had to coerce his bride into marriage? Was it because he’d agreed to follow her sister and ensure Honora’s safety? He’d have done so, even without Katherine’s acceptance of his proposal. Despite the chain mail disguise, he didn’t like the thought of Honora traveling alone, not with the dangers she might face.

Nervous energy twisted his gut. He wasn’t the man Katherine had wanted, while she was everything he’d dared to dream about. Risking a glance back at her, he saw the exhaustion on her face, along with resignation.

She wasn’t happy about wedding him. He was nothing but a stuttering fool, and if he had any honor, he’d release her from the agreement. He hadn’t spoken to her father yet. There was time enough for her to change her mind.

But God help him, he didn’t want that. And he hadn’t the faintest idea of how to keep her at his side.

Ahead, he spied the light of a single fire and the silhouettes of two people. Ademar signaled for Katherine to stop. When she brought her horse beside his, he pointed. “I think we’ve found her.”

Katherine shielded her eyes from the dying sunlight. “Are you sure it’s Honora?”

“These are the tracks from Ardennes. One horse, and no one followed.”

She stood staring at the fire, her face masking an uncertain expression. “They’re together, aren’t they?”

He nodded. Katherine reached out for his hand, gripping it tightly. He held her palm, offering silent reassurance. Nonetheless, she appeared tired and downtrodden. He supposed that seeing her sister and Ewan together didn’t make it any easier to bear.

“I wanted her to be safe. I did. She’s my sister, and I…told her to go with him.”

He could hear the pain in her voice, and it seemed cruel to stay any longer. It would only hurt her more. “We’re going to go back to Ardennes.”

“In a moment.” She took his hand in both of hers. “I spoke to my father earlier.”

Ademar hid the curse that came to his lips. God preserve him. Lord Ardennes would kill him for stealing away with his daughter. “What did he say?”

“He was angry for what happened to my sister.” Her shoulders lowered with satisfaction. “He ordered John and his men to leave Ardennes at dawn.”

He didn’t share in Katherine’s relief. Likely John’s men would pursue Honora, given the opportunity.

“Does your father know you followed me?” He prayed she would say no. The last thing they needed was the wrath of Lord Ardennes and his garrison of soldiers.

She blushed. “Not exactly. I told him I wasn’t feeling well, and I was planning to stay the rest of the night in my chamber. My maid knows where I am.”

Damn. If he didn’t bring Katherine safely home before anyone else noticed she was gone, the baron would have him murdered without a second thought. Although there wasn’t time to reach Ardennes tonight, he wanted to get as close as possible.

When it grew too dark to travel any further, he stopped their horses near a small river. He brought Katherine to a copse of fir trees, a small haven of privacy.

Katherine dismounted, tending to their horses while he built a fire. He’d expected to spend the night alone and had packed provisions for himself. With the last of the evening light, he set up the tent for her, placing the temporary shelter a safe distance away, but where it would still receive the warmth of the flames.

Ademar brought food for Katherine, offering her pieces of bread and cheese. It was meager fare, but he hadn’t known she would be traveling with him. She held out a portion, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch the food.

“Ademar,” she murmured. “You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She broke off a piece of the cheese and brought it to his mouth. He forced himself to taste it, but it could have been grass for all that he knew. Being here alone with her, knowing that she had given her agreement to wed him…it didn’t seem real. Almost as though he could close his eyes and she would disappear.

“It’s late,” he said, though it wasn’t at all. “You should get some sleep.” Nodding toward the tent, he waited for her to go inside.

Worry lined her eyes, and when her hand moved to his temple, she examined the wound. “Does this hurt you?” Tenderly she smoothed back his hair.

It did, but he was so entranced by her touch, he didn’t care. He caught the faint scent of eastern spices—a hint of cinnamon with the tang of cloves—an exotic perfume he didn’t recognize.

“Do you know why I said yes to the betrothal?” she murmured, letting her hand fall to his arm.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

“Because I know that you care for me…the way Ewan never did. You never look upon me as though I embarrass you.”

“You honor me,” was all he could say. And though he didn’t believe she would ever come to feel the same way about him, it was enough for now.

Her dark blue eyes were unfathomable in the twilight, and he was afraid to touch her. Afraid she would pull away from him.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked.

He wanted to, but he didn’t trust himself. A single kiss would lead to more, and it would frighten her. But he brushed an innocent kiss upon her mouth, the kiss a friend might give to another.

She faltered, her lips pursing as if she were about to say something. Instead, she whispered, “Good night.”

He heard her enter the tent, but he didn’t watch her. Instead, he granted her the privacy of a sleeping place of her own. Unbuckling his sword belt, he laid his weapon within an easy grasp, should it be needed.

“Are you going to sleep there, on the grass?”

“Yes.” He kept his gaze firmly upon the fire. At the moment, his imagination was rekindling the memory of last night, when he’d laid her down upon his bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had responded to him, and even now, his body hardened to think of her.

Grimly, he closed his eyes, trying to shut her out.

“Is this the way it will be, once we’re wed?” Katherine’s voice held a note of disappointment, but God above, what did she want from him? He was trying to respect her needs, to let her have her own space.

He rolled over, resting his head against his palm. She was sitting down inside the tent, with the flap drawn back. Her black hair was unbraided, spilling over her shoulders like a river of ink. The veil she usually wore was folded neatly beside her.

“Share the tent with me,” she offered. He couldn’t say whether she was giving him a courtesy or a true invitation.

“I’ll be fine right here.” Where he would lie awake all night, dreaming of the taste of her skin.

“Ademar,” she whispered again. His name was a seductive command, and like a siren, he could not ignore her call.

“I can’t, Katherine.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I get any closer to you, I won’t be able to stop this time. You’ll take me into your body and be a virgin no longer.”

To his utter shock, she smiled.

Katherine had never seen the knight so flustered. His face was red, and he was staring at the grove of trees as though he expected them to catch fire.

Her heart softened toward him, knowing that she had unsettled him so. He made her feel powerful, as though she could say or do anything and he would never leave her.

His marriage offer had taken her by surprise, but after she’d thought more about it, she believed it was a good match. Even when she’d fainted, Ademar hadn’t chastised her or looked upon her with disgust. He’d taken care of her.

Saints, she didn’t know her own feelings right now. She wanted to lie beside him this night. She wanted to fall asleep with his arms around her, taking strength from him.

His head wound had remained closed, and so long as it didn’t fester, she believed it would heal well enough. She was proud of having faced her fears.

But Ademar could have been killed. The thought sent a shiver through her, for she was starting to question her feelings for this man.

“I would have…have helped your sister anyway,” Ademar confessed. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself by wedding me.”

His words caught her unawares. It was as if he didn’t believe she wanted to be betrothed to him.

“It’s not a sacrifice, Ademar.” She left the shelter of the tent and went to kneel beside him. Taking his hands in hers, she settled them around her waist.

Touch me, she thought. I need you.

Especially now, for she was letting go of Ewan. She needed to reaffirm that she was desirable, that nothing was wrong with her.

Ademar bent down, leaning his cheek against her hair. “I don’t want you to have regrets.”

“We have friendship between us.” Lifting her gaze to his blue eyes, she added, “Perhaps more.”

She brought his face down to hers, kissing him again. She explored his firm mouth, trying to tempt him to kiss her back.

When he did, he made her forget what she’d been trying to do. His mouth took possession of hers, his tongue sliding inside while he plundered her. His hands moved to fill up with her breasts, caressing and teasing the nipples.

He pulled her onto his lap, and she straddled his waist, feeling his hard length between her thighs. Ademar cupped her bottom, riding her against him in a new form of torment.

Against her neck, he murmured, “You shouldn’t have…have started this.”

She was trembling with a dark need for him, the need to be taken. It didn’t matter that it would take time to finalize the betrothal and wedding. She didn’t care about the ceremonial bedding and everything expected of them.

She wanted him to lie with her this night. She wanted to seduce him, to ensnare him the way he’d tantalized her. And she had no doubt he would exorcise Ewan from her mind.

“Finish it, Ademar. Touch me the way you did last night.”

He glanced through the trees toward the fire belonging to her father’s men. “Be certain this is what you want.”

She rose, removing her garments until her shift pooled at her ankles. “I am certain.”

Ademar inhaled at the sight of her, his eyes burning with intense need. She was hardly aware of how long it took him to remove his own clothing, but he guided her inside the tent, drawing the flap closed.

The space was tiny, barely enough for one, let alone two. His large body wrapped around hers, his legs tangling up with her own. The hot male skin took her breath away, and she found herself growing wet when his hard manhood nestled against her. He lifted her leg around his waist, nudging himself at her entrance.

She shuddered at the contact, wanting him to slide deep inside her. But he didn’t. Instead, he caressed the skin of her spine, kissing her lips and face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He made her feel beautiful. She smiled in the darkness and noticed that his hands were shaking.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” she asked, sliding her palms over his torso. The soft hair of his chest brushed against her breasts, arousing her even more.

“No.” His hands moved over her bottom, reaching between her legs to the wetness of her entrance. Katherine gasped at the contact, moaning when he inserted his finger. “But I’ve dreamed of being with you.”

“What did you dream of?” she whispered, trembling when he stroked her womanhood, sliding deep inside and then out again.

He gave a low laugh. “They were nothing compared to this.”

Raising her hips, he guided the tip of himself inside. Thick and hard. Her breathing quickened when she felt him rub against her in shallow strokes.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured. “I’ll do whatever you ask. What—whatever feels good to you.”

She didn’t know how she dared to tell him. But instead, she guided his mouth to her breast, squirming against him when he sucked the nipple. With his tongue, he traced the outline, flicking it against the tip while her body took his manhood deeper. She was sliding against him, her body weight sheathing him.

Tight. So unbearably tight and hot. And yet nothing in the world would make her let him go.

His face tensed, and when at last he was buried inside her, he held her so fiercely, she could scarcely breathe.

“It…hurts a little,” she admitted. He kissed her tenderly, his mouth grazing her neck while he lifted her up a fraction. Withdrawing slightly, he eased her back down.

“You’re going to drive me mad,” he whispered hoarsely.

She pushed his shoulders back until he was lying flat. With their bodies still joined, she rose up, experimenting with the motion until she found a slow rhythm that felt good.

He endured the penetration, his eyes locked upon hers. “Faster,” he commanded.

Katherine obeyed, bouncing her weight upon his length until something hot and bold began to awaken within her. Her breathing shuddered, and then he moved his thumb upon the folded flesh above her entrance. “How does that feel?” he asked, gently nudging the hooded opening.

As he caressed it, she cried out, her voice growing pitched as she took him even deeper inside. “It makes me feel like…I need you more.” She rose up against him, and he stopped her movement.

“Stay there,” he ordered, and Katherine held herself halfway impaled upon him. With his thumb, he stroked her again, a light pressure that stimulated her arousal even higher.

“And now?” he asked, deepening the touch until she burned for him. She was shivering so intensely, she could hardly bear it.

“Too much,” she moaned, and he backed off, changing the tempo until it was softer. She let him experiment, and something built up within her, a wave of need so strong that she could scarcely stand it.

He kept up his rhythm, urging her closer until her body seized up with the fierce release. She bucked against his erection, half sobbing as he surged deep inside.

Rolling her over, Ademar filled her, again and again. She crested the wave, meeting his strokes with her hips until another wave of ecstasy ripped through her. He drove inside a few more times, until a groan escaped him, then he laid atop her, exhausted.

She felt a wetness against her womb, the evidence of his seed. As she clasped him to her body, she kissed his cheeks, his face. Anywhere.

Still inside her, he touched his nose to hers. “I’m not very good at this.”

“I didn’t notice.” Her lips curved upward, though he could not see it in the darkness.

“I’ll need to practice more. Until I get it right.”

Heavens, she hoped so. “If you insist.”

After that, Ademar was insatiable. He made love to her three more times that night, though Katherine was still sore. The last position had been a delicious one, with him entering her from behind. He had raised her bottom up, forcing her hips up to meet him, while he penetrated her deeply. She had nearly screamed, the pleasure was so intense.

And now, she was naked in his arms while the sun came up. It was time to go, before her father learned where they had gone.

Katherine pressed a kiss on Ademar’s shoulder, daydreaming about him. They would finalize the betrothal, and there were places at Ardennes where they could steal away to be together.

It startled her to realize that she hadn’t thought of Ewan at all. Perhaps it really had been infatuation, instead of love. She’d been so humiliated at his rejection, she hadn’t been able to tell whether it was her pride or her heart that was hurting.

The sound of horses approaching caught her attention. Katherine raised the tent flap and the sunlight pierced her vision. Through the grove of trees, she spied the glint of chain mail.

“Ademar,” she whispered, shaking him awake. She pointed toward the trees, and when his eyes adjusted, she saw the grim look upon his face.

He swore, reaching for his clothes. Katherine dressed quickly, fumbling with the garments and her veil until she was presentable. She packed up their belongings while Ademar went to discover what was happening.

When she reached his side, she paled. Over a dozen men were mounted with John of Ceredys. Two of the soldiers rode forward, their crossbows aimed at them.

Ademar took her hand and rested it upon his dagger grip. Meeting her gaze, he let her know without words that they would fight, if need be.

“What do you want?” Ademar demanded of John.

Lord Ceredys drew his horse closer, a smirk upon his face. “Lady Katherine. I see we have interrupted your tryst.”

She flushed. “Leave us and go back to Ceredys, as my father commanded.”

“Your father’s commands mean nothing to me,” John said softly. Eyeing Ademar, he continued, “And because of your efforts, Lady Honora has gone.”

Ademar smiled, but Katherine saw the rage glittering in his eyes. She’d never seen the knight so furious.

“I was glad to see her rid of you.”

John drew his sword, but before he could strike, Ademar blocked the weapon with his own blade. “Fight me,” he dared.

Although Ademar was at a disadvantage since John was mounted, it had no effect upon his fighting. His sword shifted from his right hand to his left, in a constant movement that John barely managed to defend. She was so engrossed, that she shrieked when two of John’s men grabbed her arms.

She hadn’t even seen them.

“Ademar!” she cried out. His attention jerked in her direction her for a split second, and John struck hard. A scream tore from her throat as she saw Ademar fall to the ground, blood staining John’s sword.

Tears blurred her eyes, and she was hardly aware of the men dragging her atop a horse. Her gaze was focused upon Ademar’s prone form, her mind begging for a miracle.

As they took her, she stared back at him, her heart dull with pain.

Let him be alive. For, God help me, I want to wed him.

Chapter Five

The first few days, Katherine had prayed for a rescue. Surely her father would send men. But no one came for her, and even more time went by. Slowly, her fear and grief transformed into anger. John had chained her wrists and ankles to a stone wall within a storage chamber, and what little food she’d received was rancid.

Lord Ceredys intended to use her as a lure for Honora. His obsession with her sister bordered on madness, and he spoke of nothing but bringing Honora back.

As for Ademar, he was likely dead. A broken hollowness seemed to swallow her up at the thought. She had let herself become so caught up in trying to let go of her feelings for Ewan, she hadn’t noticed the way Ademar had slipped inside her heart. Strong and quiet, he had been both her friend and her lover.

It didn’t matter that he struggled to speak. He’d needed no words to show her that he cared. Had he loved her?

Katherine’s throat thickened, and she wished that she could go back and tell him of her own feelings. If somehow, by the grace of God, Ademar had lived, she could think of nothing else but being at his side.

She wanted to wed him, to be a part of his life. Yet, it might be too late for that. Tears swelled within her eyes, but it would do no good to shed them. Right now, she had to find a way out of this prison.

As if in answer to her plea, she heard a soldier’s voice ordering, “Bring her out.”

A guard unlocked her chains, and Katherine struggled against his grip, trying to seize his dagger. He backhanded her, and she stumbled to the ground. With no energy to fight him, her hands were bound, each wrist by a separate rope. He jerked the two ropes behind her back, forcing her out of the storage chamber.

Outside, the sunlight blinded her for a moment. Before she could get her bearings, the soldier lowered a hood over her head. She heard him mount his horse, and he took one of the ropes. A second soldier took the other rope, and they forced her to walk between their horses. Katherine struggled to keep from stumbling, unable to see anything.

After a few minutes, she heard the screeching of seagulls and the rhythmic sounds of waves. Her heartbeat quickened. Was Lord Ceredys planning to drown her?

The guards kept her a distance away, and she heard John’s voice, along with a woman’s. Oh sweet Virgin, it was her sister. She’d thought Honora had escaped.

“Who is your prisoner?” Honora called out.

And then John laughed harshly. “Someone who tried to rescue you. A fool.”

A moment later, the hood was ripped away. Katherine blinked in the fierce light before she saw the terrified face of her sister.

Ademar couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. Though every instinct screamed for him to ride after Katherine, he forced himself to return to Ardennes.

He’d narrowly missed his own death. When he’d seen John’s sword slicing toward him, he’d thrown himself to the ground, letting the blade cut through the top of his shoulder as he rolled away. His head had struck a rock, and he’d lost consciousness.

Likely the damned stone had saved his life. When he’d awoken, Katherine was gone and his head was caked with blood. It had taken the better part of a day to reach Ardennes, but he’d recruited the baron and fifty of their best fighters.

“If Ceredys has harmed her—” Nicholas of Ardennes began, his voice rigid with fury.

“He dies.” Ademar kept up his pace, matched only by the baron.

“You should have stopped Katherine from following you,” Nicholas continued. “Or better, you should have let Honora go.”

“No woman should travel alone,” Ademar countered.

Lord Ardennes turned crimson. “Honora has defied her responsibilities long enough. I told Ceredys he could bring her back to her dower estates. Never did I suggest that he kidnap her.”

Ademar tried to separate from the baron, to ride ahead of the others. But Nicholas stubbornly kept alongside him.

“What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

“I intend to wed Katherine.” He didn’t ask permission, though it was an expected courtesy. After the nights he’d spent with her, he was not letting her go.

“And what makes you believe I would grant permission for this match?”

“Because she could be carrying my heir.” Without waiting for Lord Ardennes to voice his outrage, Ademar spurred his horse faster. They were almost at Ceredys, near Morecambe Bay. In the distance, he could see the tides moving against the vast sands.

Ademar motioned for the baron to keep his men back. Turning to him, Ademar said, “I may be able to get her out with—without your army.”

“You will have no part in this,” the baron argued. “You may have dishonored her, but I won’t let you risk Katherine’s life.”

There was no dishonor in what had transpired between them. Never would he think of it as such.

“One hour,” Ademar demanded. “And I’ll bring her back.”

Nicholas hesitated, his face tight with uncertainty. He looked as though he’d rather lay siege to the castle, but he also knew that an open attack would bring a greater risk.

At last, he gave a curt nod. “One hour. If you don’t return with my daughter, I will send men to demand her release.”

Ademar slipped inside the castle, only to face an enraged warrior with a shaved head and the stature of a giant. The man extended his sword, and his dark eyes stared into Ademar’s, as though he were eager to kill.

Behind him were almost two dozen armed men—serfs and villagers, from the look of them.

“And who are you?” the giant demanded.

Refusing to be cowed, Ademar rested his hand on his own sword hilt. “I seek Lady Katherine of Ardennes. “Lord Ceredys took—took her prisoner.”

The giant lunged forward with his blade, and Ademar defended the blow, stepping out of range. When his attacker swung again, Ademar switched hands and nicked the giant’s face. “Where is she?”

“Gone. His men took her toward the coast.” The man’s accent was familiar, with a hint of Irish.

Ademar eyed the man closer, his suspicions rising. “You’re a MacEgan, aren’t you?”

The giant’s gaze narrowed. “Trahern MacEgan is my name.”

Ademar lowered his sword, not asking how the man had arrived at Ceredys. “If you are a brother to—to Ewan, then we’ve no—reason to fight.” Gritting his teeth, he finished, “Is he here?” He’d believed both Ewan and Honora had made it to the island of Erin, but perhaps not.

“He went back to the shore to protect Lady Honora. I’m gathering these folk to fight against John. Your Lady Katherine isn’t the only prisoner here.”

“I’ve an army of my own,” Ademar admitted. He gestured in the direction of the trees, where Lord Ardennes and his men were waiting.

Trahern smiled, and there was menace in his expression. “I think John of Ceredys will no longer be lord of this castle.”

Ademar leaned into his horse, thundering toward the coast. Katherine stood midway down the hillside, between two mounted guards, her black hair whipping about her face. Her hands were bound with ropes.

John of Ceredys stood upon the shoreline with Honora, while behind him the tides rose up, the waves tipped with white.

Ademar dismounted, running toward her when he heard Ceredys call out, “Kill her!”

One of the guards held Katherine, gripping her shoulders and arms. The other soldier lifted his own dagger, prepared to stab her.

Ademar wasn’t close enough to stop them. He roared out his frustration, as he stumbled down the hill to her. A hot rage like he’d never known mingled with the fear of losing her. If anything happened to Katherine, he would give up his life to avenge her.

He was in love with her. It didn’t matter if she loved someone else. She had promised to be his. Even if she never felt anything for him but friendship, he would take whatever piece of her heart she was willing to give.

With his hand clenched around his sword hilt, he remembered there was one way she could save herself.

“Katherine, the sword!”

Whether or not she heard him, she fought to free herself, knocking her head against the soldier’s nose. The guard loosened his grip, and Katherine reached for the man’s blade.

Swinging it upward, she knocked the dagger from the other man’s hands. A second later, Ewan MacEgan broke through, killing the two men.

Jealousy ignited within Ademar, that he hadn’t been the one to save her. Damn it all, he should have been there to protect her, not Ewan.

He half expected her to fall into Ewan’s arms. And God help him, he would sooner see the Irishman dead than have him lay a single hand upon Katherine.

Ewan stared at Katherine as though he were stunned at her behavior, but she was speaking to her sister. Ademar didn’t hear the conversation between Katherine and Honora, but he sheathed his weapon and pushed his way toward her.

“Katherine,” he said softly.

She turned, and he could see the wonder dawn in her eyes. He could hardly breathe when she flew into his embrace. Ademar held her so fiercely, he was afraid of hurting her.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

She lifted her mouth to his, kissing him. He tasted salt and wiped her tears away, before conquering her mouth with his own.

Mine.

The word of possession made him soften his kiss, and he gripped her tightly. Below, on the beach, Trahern had arrived with the villagers. Behind them were Lord Ardennes’s men.

Surrounded by his enemies, John of Ceredys stepped backwards into the sea water, cursing and making demands of the people.

Ademar covered Katherine’s eyes so she would not see the bloodshed, tucking her face into his chest.

“You’re safe from him,” he told her, when it was finished. “Ceredys won’t harm you or Honora again.”

“Thank God.” Her arms wound around his neck, and when she raised her face to his, he noticed that her face was thinner. The need to take care of her, to ensure that she was all right, overrode any other thoughts.

He kissed her temple, smoothing her veil, then reaching beneath it to the dark silk of her hair. “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he swore.

The words tangled up inside, stumbling upon his tongue. “And I—that is, I want to tell you that I-I’ve always—you’re everything I dreamed—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Kiss me again, Ademar. I don’t need the words.”

He did, not caring that others were around them watching. She pressed close to him, and at the touch of her body, his desire blazed into life.

“Are you still going…to wed me?” He settled his hands about her waist, hopeful at her answer.

She nodded. “You’re the man I want. Because you love me for who I am.”

“I do.”

She’d guessed the words he couldn’t quite voice. Ademar pulled her into his arms, carrying her up the hill toward his horse. She never tore her gaze from him, and in her eyes, he saw the promise of hope.

“When I thought you were dead, it was as if part of me had been ripped apart,” she said, touching his face with her hands. “I never felt like that with Ewan. I was hurt that he loved Honora, but in the end, he wasn’t the right man for me.”

“And now?” He lifted her in front of him on his horse, still holding her close.

She smiled, kissing him again. “I’ve found the right man. And I’ll never let him go.”

Read Honora St. Leger and Ewan MacEgan’s story (part of the MacEgan Brothers miniseries), in TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR, available in print and eBook format from Harlequin Historical October 2009.

Read the rest of Michelle Willingham’s MacEgan Brothers miniseries from Harlequin Historical and Harlequin Historical Undone, always available in eBook format:

Her Warrior Slave

The Viking’s Forbidden Love-Slave

Her Warrior King

Her Irish Warrior

The Warrior’s Touch

Taming Her Irish Warrior

Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:

AT THE DUKE’S SERVICE by Carole Mortimer

HIS SILKEN SEDUCTION by Joanna Maitland

A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE by Terri Brisbin

DISROBED AND DISHONORED by Louise Allen

THE UNLACING OF MISS LEIGH by Diane Gaston

A NIGHT OF WICKED DELIGHT by Joanne Rock

PLEASURED BY THE ENGLISH SPY by Bronwyn Scott

THE RAKE’S INTIMATE ENCOUNTER by Ann Lethbridge

NOTORIOUS LORD, COMPROMISED MISS by Annie Burrows

THE UNMASKING OF LADY LOVELESS by Nicola Cornick

LIBERTINE LORD, PICKPOCKET MISS by Bronwyn Scott

THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE by Michelle Willingham

SHIPWRECKED AND SEDUCED by Amanda McCabe

Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from Harlequin Historical at www.eHarlequin.com or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Harlequin Historical UNDONE? Send your submission to undone@harlequin.ca.

Michelle Willingham grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles, Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance.

She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-3983-2

The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

Copyright © 2009 by Michelle Willingham

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text September be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.eHarlequin.com