historical-romance

It's a jump, Minuette, that's all it is. A jump out of this world, straight into my arms."Incredibly, she managed to smile. "You will catch me?"He pressed his lips against hers. "Always.

A fire burned in her chest. A fire that both terrified her and compelled her to lean into him and take everything he would give her. She trembled with the force of these strange emotions. "Shona." He lifted his hand to gently tilt her chin up and caress her cheek. His breath teased her lips and his nose touched hers briefly. "Aye," she responded. His masculine scent and that of spices from the mulled wine stole her thoughts. When his lips touched hers like a light brush of silk, she was ensnared and her breath remained trapped in her chest. Some instinct within her surged to the surface and she pressed her lips firmly against his.

She was riding a camel, in the most beautiful desert, in the kingdom belonging to this most beautiful man. A man who thought she had the most delightful rear. A man who wanted to kiss her every bit as much as she wanted to kiss him. "I know that I will regret saying this, but at this moment in time, I think I could manage anything.

Susanna, I'm not exactly sure how to begin. Where to start. I know I was in the wrong by not telling you sooner, but I was in an incredibly tight spot." She crooked her brow. "I'm still in an incredibly tight spot?" She nodded.

To secure his king's trust, his family's future, and perhaps even his own happiness, he needed to convince her he was more than a mercenary -- in fact, a man who would stand by her side.

Catherine bristled at the amusement in his voice. He could laugh all he wanted when he stood tied to a wall utterly naked. A little humiliation might do him good.

Our glass train, on fragile tracksBeneath bombs that fall like the floodTo wash away the shards__ut all this sorrow will recedeAnd we will leaveTwo by twoAnd until then, I will only think of you.

Blessed desire gripped her nether parts as her passion inflamed. Helen shamelessly rocked her hips from side to side. "My, you have turned me into a wanton woman." "And that's a bad thing?" His voice grew deeper with each word.

to want any woman so badly was unwise, let alone his enemy's daughter." An Artful Seduction

He inclined his head toward a fallen log. "Come. Let us break our fast." She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples as if she had an ache in her head. "I need a cup of coffee." William sat on a log. "What is this ye say ... coffee?" She looked at him and arched one brow as if she considered him daft. "It's a hot drink that helps me wake up in the morning." "But ye are already awake.

She didn__ have a hat or a veil or anything in her hands. No one had offered so much as a single dried-out flower; she had nothing to hold onto to steady her shaking fingers. Her head pounded as hard and as painfully as her rapid heartbeat. She stood there, unable to move, staring at the man who waited at the end of the aisle. This unpredictable knight who hours ago had touched her, kissed her, caressed her in a way that still made her tremble, then sworn he would never do so again. This dark lord who despised her. This man she was about to marry.

Barely able to breathe, Eva's tongue slipped across her lips. He moved a bit closer. "Every time ye walk past, I want ye. Your scent sends my insides into a maelstrom of need." She closed her eyes and drew out the moment, wishing he'd say that again. Oh, how delectable to listen to a medieval Scotsman declare his desire.

Before her, with sharp blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blond hair, was Josephine Marie Elizabeth Cavendish, Her Grace, the Duchess of Durham, widow of the fifth duke, and aunt to the Cavendish siblings.One did not call her Josie. Amelia had asked.

You tempt me beyond reason." Her heart sped up. Indeed he tempted her beyond reason too.

Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non words ever not spoken.

How could he live never knowing what it would be like to hold her close and sleep with her the whole night through?

Did I catch ye looking at me?" He knelt beside her and covered her with the plaid... "I couldn't help myself," she mumbled. He gave a low chuckle and slid in beside her. His naked arm pulled her close so her head rested on his solid chest. "Good answer." The smile was evident in his silky voice.

Antonia Valleau cast the first shovelful of dirt onto her husband__ fur-shrouded body, lying in the grave she__ dug in their garden plot, the only place where the soil wasn__ still rock hard. I won__ be breakin_ down. For the sake of my children, I must be strong. Pain squeezed her chest like a steel trap. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of loam and pine. I must be doing this.She drove the shovel into the soil heaped next to the grave, hefted the laden blade, and dumped the earth over Jean-Claude, trying to block out the thumping sound the soil made as it covered him. Even as Antonia scooped and tossed, her muscles aching from the effort, her heart stayed numb, and her mind kept playing out the last sight of her husband. The memory haunting her, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow, her face hot from exertion in spite of the cool spring air.Antonia touched the tips of her dirty fingers to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of Jean-Claude__ mouth on hers as he__ kissed her before striding out the door for a day of hunting. She__ held up baby Jacques, and Jean-Claude had tapped his son__ nose. Jacques had let out a belly laugh that made his father respond in kind. Her heart had filled with so much love and pride in her family that she__ chuckled, too. Stepping outside, she__ watched Jean-Claude ruffle the dark hair of their six-year-old, Henri. Then he strode off, whistling, with his rifle carried over his shoulder. She__ thought it would be a good day__ normal day. She assumed her husband would return to their mountain home in the afternoon before dusk as he always did, unless he had a longer hunt planned.As Antonia filled the grave, she denied she was burying her husband. Jean-Claude be gone a checkin_ the trap line, she told herself, flipping the dirt onto his shroud.She moved through the nightmare with leaden limbs, a knotted stomach, burning dry eyes, and a throat that felt as though a log had lodged there. While Antonia shoveled, she kept glancing at her little house, where, inside, Henri watched over the sleeping baby. From the garden, she couldn__ see the doorway.She worried about her son__hat the glimpse of his father__ bloody body had done to the boy. Mon Dieu, she couldn__ stop to comfort him. Not yet. Henri had promised to stay inside with the baby, but she didn__ know how long she had before Jacques woke up. Once she finished burying Jean-Claude, Antonia would have to put her sons on a mule and trek to where she__ found her husband__ body clutched in the great arms of the dead grizzly. She wasn__ about to let his last kill lie there for the animals and the elements to claim. Her family needed that meat and the fur. She heard a sleepy wail that meant Jacques had awakened. Just a few more shovelfuls. Antonia forced herself to hurry, despite how her arms, shoulders, and back screamed in pain.When she finished the last shovelful of earth, exhausted, Antonia sank to her knees, facing the cabin, her back to the grave, placing herself between her sons and where their father lay. She should go to them, but she was too depleted to move.