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One rapturous hour sparks unforgettable passion between Lady Nicola and Fawkes de Cressy. The memory of their time together enables Fawkes to survive the horrors and perils of the Crusades and gives Nicola the hope and strength to endure a brutal marriage.
Fawkes returns to rescue the woman of his dreams and finds Nicola enmeshed in a dark web of castle intrigue. Fawkes is so altered by the hardships and cruelties of war, that Nicola fears to trust him with her secrets or her heart.
Surrounded by enemies, the battle-hardened knight and the aloof, wary woman must rebuild the bond between them. Only if they dare let the soul-stirring magic their bodies share grow into love can they escape the sinister plot that threatens to destroy them both.
Excerpt:
The tower
room seemed much too small. It was like being caged
with a wild creature.
Fawkes
left the table and approached her. Nicola fought the urge to draw back. He
seemed to sense her apprehension, for his fierce expression softened. “I don’t
want you to fear me, Nicola. Unlike some men, I don’t believe in striking
women. Or children. Or anyone smaller and weaker than myself. If I were ever to
feel the need the discipline you, I would choose other, more civilized means.”
Discipline
her? What did that mean? His words sounded reasonable and reassuring, but there
was an edge of warning there. She must find some way to convince him she wasn’t
his enemy. She must make it clear she would never deal with him as she had with
Mortimer.
Body
rigid, her heart pounding wildly, she said, “Milord, you must understand. Mortimer
was a brute. There were many times I feared for my life at his hands. Whatever
you may have heard of me…” Her hands trembled as she gestured and this time she
was glad he saw. “I did what I had to do to survive.” And for Simon to
survive.
His expression
softened. His dark eyes again flared with violent emotion. “You forget. I knew
Mortimer. He tried more than once to kill me. I have no sympathy for him. None
at all.”
She let
out her breath. Perhaps now they could begin again, and he would stop playing
this game of cat and mouse with her. She nodded. “I’m very grateful you
understand. I’d worried you might have heard tales of me, stories meant to
portray me as wicked and manipulative.”
He
watched her intently. “Aye, I have heard tales. ’Tis good you saw fit to
reassure me. Perhaps now, perhaps we can…” He let his words trail off and the
atmosphere between them shifted. His dark eyes no longer seemed stern and
implacable, but smoldered with frank sexual desire. The tension between them
changed, erupting with blazing arousal.
Fire
started in her loins and spread outward, making her skin ache for his touch.
She tilted her head, awaiting his kiss.
He
hesitated, as if even now he feared to take this final step and give into what
his body obviously desired. Observing his forbearance, she thought for the
dozenth time of how different he was from Mortimer. Mortimer had been a slave
to his emotions. This man sought control at all times.
But at last he brought his lips to hers. The blaze took them both.
