Curlew Champion, master archer, has always known his
destiny. With his cousin, Heron Scarlet,
he will become a guardian of Sherwood Forest and further his people’s fight
against Norman Tyranny. But the third
member of the triad is still to be revealed, the woman who will complete the
magical circle and, perhaps, answer the longing in Curlew’s heart.
Anwyn Montfort has fled disgrace in Shrewsbury and come to
Nottingham at her father’s bidding. He
wishes her to make a good marriage and settle down. But the wildness that possesses her refuses
to quiet. She knows she’s been searching
for something all her life, but not until she glimpses Curlew does her spirit
begin to hope it has found its home.
Only the magic of Sherwood can bring them together, and only
their union can complete the spell woven so long ago …
“What must I do to convince you I
should stay?” Anwyn spoke before Curlew could voice the refusal she saw in his eyes.
“I can prove useful to you and your folk—I know I can. Did I tell you I am well
able to use a bow? My father taught me when I was still growing. I often shot
in company with the young folk of our town, and you know how good Welsh bowmen
are.”
A smile curved those lips of
his—warm, tantalizing lips that had explored every part of her in the dark. Desire
slammed into the pit of Anwyn’s stomach. She did not understand the power of
her longing, but oh, how she felt it!
“It makes an intriguing picture,
that—you with a bow.” The hand not fused to hers came up and touched her hair
lightly, as if he could not help himself. “But one I think we must neglect.”
Anwyn stepped closer. Now only the
swiftly falling rain separated them. She knew men and how to manipulate them.
Those games she had played at Shrewsbury and, aye, in Nottingham also were all
about manipulation. Men wanted but one thing, and a woman could get whatever
she wanted if a man thought he might win it in return. Dangerous, aye, and she
had nearly been caught once or twice. Yet she had already given this man that
prize and, besides, he was like no one she had ever met. She was sure the great
restlessness in her had sent her always, always searching for him.
What a cruel irony that this one
man appeared to be the only one ready to turn her away! She could not allow it,
not on her life.
“I can think of still another
reason for you to let me stay,” she breathed.
Desire ignited in the silver of his
eyes. Even before she pressed her body against his she felt something in him
leap to her, a reaching of pure spirit, and she yearned upward to find his
mouth even as he sought hers.
And oh, it was as she remembered
from the darkness but better, ten thousand times better, for the answer it made
to her fierce wanting. Her lips belonged on his, just as her fingers had been
made to curl into his. Every separate part of her had been formed, before birth,
to fit his flesh. And by heaven, his tongue belonged inside her mouth and the
taste of him burning through her. Her spirit needed to be at home with his until
she died, and after.
She breathed his name into his open
mouth. His hand released hers and she grieved, she grieved until his arms
closed around her hard, lifted her from her toes, and gathered her against him.
He knew who he kissed now, right
enough. Let him make any excuses he would about what had happened in the dark.
He knew who she was and she could feel him strain for her.
Available 8/8/14 from Amazon and The Wild Rose Press!
No comments:
Post a Comment