by J. S. Lynn
“To be continued,” he murmured.
He wanted to run his hands through her thick brunette hair and pulled out the pins that were holding it atop her head. He imagined the weight of it heavy in his palms as he raised it to his nose to smell its delectable scent. He thought he smelled lemon as they turned to process out of the church. The scent suited her. It was crisp, fresh, and authentic, which was much as his impression of her. She was beautiful beyond his expectations and her slim, curvaceous body fit perfectly against him. It was too bad that she was a McCree. This union might have had a chance if that were not the case. They left the church amid cheers from the hundreds of villagers who had not been able to enter the church. Shawn’s grand coach stood waiting to carry them back to his castle. He assisted Freya into the vehicle, then her mother and sister. A footman closed the door after he entered and they were off. There was an awkward silence in the coach as Freya sat as far away from him as the cushioned bench would allow. She smiled benignly then turned to look out of the window. He looked at her closely then memory dawn.
“I met you in the village a while ago. A youth had caused you to drop your basket,” Shawn recalled.
“And you stopped to assist me. You were very kind. I thank you again. That occurred several months ago. You have a very good memory,” Judith said admiringly.
He shrugged.
“I never forget a face,” he remarked.
“I would think that a very valuable trait. Don’t you agree, Freya?” Judith tried to bring Freya into the conversation.
“It would depend on the person of his memory. I doubt that his enemies would find it laudable,” Freya muttered.
Judith’s green eyes censored Freya fiercely. Her sister, Sabra, exclaimed and Judith elbowed her sharply. It was obvious that Judith had her hands full with her two daughters. Well, although it was against his will he had taken one of them off of her hands. Freya was proving to have a sharp tongue, which was the last thing that he wanted in a wife. But her tongue also showed that she was not docile. She had fire and that made for enjoyable times in bed, if not out of it. He looked forward to the time when he could take his bride to their chambers and shut out the revelry of the celebration. He may not have wanted to marry her but he most definitely wanted to bed her. Having her in his bed would be his reward for being an obedient servant to the king.
“We have arrived,” Shawn announced as he jumped from the coach.
END OF PREVIEW
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