De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer Read Online Free PDF Page B

could have been swifter, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to. He pulled her so close she could feel the softness of his breath feel the heat of his body. "The potion," he murmured. "Give it to me."
    "I don't have it," she whispered, his hands, on her waist, like hot irons. So large, so strong. She attempted once to twist free, and realizing it was hopeless, she went still. She tried to brace herself away from him with her hands on his chest. He was as hard as a rock, but warm, alive, beneath her fingertips.
    "Your waist is so small,"Rolfe said, low.
    Ceidre looked into his gaze and could not look away.
    "My fingers almost touch one another." She could not breathe.
    "You are too beautiful to be mortal," he said huskily.
    His hands, on her waist, tightened. Her own body was throbbing, her blood racing madly. "Let me go,"
    she said weakly.
    "Mayhap," he said, and his mouth was closer, his lower lip fuller than its mate, beautifully carved, "you are a witch."
    "No," she heard herself say fiercely. I am not a witch - she wanted to tell him the truth-she wanted, desperately, that he should know this and believe it.
    One of his hands moved up to her rib cage. Ceidre shuddered at the gentle-impossibly gentle-caress.
    She tried to push herself away but could not. He was unyielding. His hand paused beneath the full weight of her breast. Surely he could feel her heartbeat vibration throughout her body. Surely he would not dare touch her more intimately-or would he?
    No man had ever dared to touch her like this.
    His hand swept up with the delicacy of a hummingbird's wings, barely brushing the full, aching globe of her breast, the flesh of his palm grazing her erect, swollen nipple. A tiny gasp, half shock, half pleasure, escaped Ceidre. And then his hand slid over her back and he leaned down, his lips closing over hers.
    She forgot that he was the enemy. There was only his mouth on hers, slightly open, soft, seductive, this time, and his hand gently stroking her shoulder. So this was kissing-so this was the pleasure of the flesh.
    When he drew away she blinked at him, dazed.
    He was staring at her. He smiled, ever so slightly. Ever so smugly.
    She struck him.
    The blow was furious and reflexive, and all of her anger and desperation were behind it. He ducked to avoid her palm, so she only grazed his jaw. Her heart was thundering right out of her breast, and she Page 20
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    froze, stunned with what she had done.
    For one split instant, he froze too, shock and disbelief and incredulity written all over his face. And then
    " his lips tightened grimly and her offending hand was seized by his-and he jerked her hard up against the steel wall that was his body. His reaction had been instantaneous.
    "No!"
    His other arm imprisoned her and his mouth found hers, and this time there was nothing soft or seductive about his kiss. He was , she the vanquished. His mouth bruised hers. His mastery was total, his domination complete. Ceidre felt his teeth actually grating hers as he forced her mouth open. She struggled like a wild, snared fox, but her movements were impossibly futile. When he released her she choked on what was a sob and a gasp for air, her breasts heaving.
    "No one," theNorman said, his face flushed, his breathing harsh, "has ever dared what you have dared."
    "The devil take your soul!" Ceidre cried, fists clenched. "Damn you, damn you to hell!"
    He stared, his own fists clenched and trembling at his sides.
    Ceidre took a step back and felt the wall of the tent. Trapped. She was trapped. And although she would never show it, she was afraid, oh-so-afraid.
    Their gazes locked, warred. She would not look away, no matter what, despite her pounding terror. His lips seemed to curl up at the corners.
    And then, like lightning, his hand delved into her bodice.
    "What is this?" He held up the leather pouch. Rage swept her. "Give it back!"
    He pulled it from her