‘Melting you.’ His voice was husky and filled with desire. ‘I want you to feel naught but me loving you this night.’
In answer, she reached for his trews, wanting to feel his length upon her bare skin. He covered her then, and the heat of his skin warmed her to her core. His erection was thick upon her stomach, and she shifted her legs apart while he continued to stroke her nipple with his tongue. She reached down to his shaft, and in her palm, she had a little of the snow she’d taken from the ledge.
He let out a hissing curse, and she laughed at him. ‘Careful, Killian. Whatever you do to me may come back upon you.’
His answer was to thrust inside her. ‘Then I’ll have to warm myself.’
She arched against him as he began to penetrate in rhythm, but it was his eyes that held her captive now.
He took her to the edge of eternity, bringing the familiar rush of pleasure as she convulsed around him. Once, she had been a woman who had hidden herself from the world, believing she was less of a person.
But Killian had changed that, making her into one who was beautiful. She held him close until he found his own release, and when she lay with him in her arms, she traced her hands over his skin. As they spent the remaining hours loving one another, Taryn lay in her husband’s arms, filled with satisfaction and joy at their future together.
The silent peace was only broken by the plaintive meow of a lonely cat, followed by a thump against the door.
She laughed and held her new husband close. ‘Harold doesn’t give up, does he?’
Killian slid his hand over her skin, their bodies still joined together. ‘He loves you. As do I.’
She breathed in the scent of this man, revelling in their closeness. ‘On the morrow, we will return to Ossoria. You’ll have everything you ever dreamed of.’
He kissed her hard once more. ‘Nay, a mhuírnín. Everything I dreamed of is right here.’
* * ***
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WARRIOR OF FIRE
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SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
If you enjoyed Lady Taryn and Killian’s story in Warrior of Ice
read on for an exclusive excerpt from
Warrior of Fire
Available December 2015
Don’t miss the second book in Michelle Willingham’s thrilling Warriors of Ireland duet!
He leaned down, reaching to touch a lock of her hair. It was not the heavy silk of other women he had known. No, it was fragile, like her. Tangled and damp from the journey. As he studied her more closely, he realized how very thin she was—half-starved. This was not a woman who had missed a meal or two. She was dangerously thin.
He’d seen folk who had starved to death before, men and women alike. And, although he shouldn’t care what happened to a stranger, he felt an invisible force drawing him closer. She needed someone to watch over her. Someone to take care of her.
His mood darkened as he went to fetch her another blanket from the chest. He laid it over her body before returning below stairs. He lit a torch and then walked outside toward the kitchens to find food for her. The monks who had once lived here had cellars with stores of food for the winter before they’d fled the invasion.
There was no bread, but he had dried meat, parsnips and some walnuts. They would have to suffice. He started to gather them up, but then he stopped short.
What in the name of the rood was he doing? Bringing her food and blankets as if she were a treasured guest? She was a stranger and an intruder. He ought to awaken her and throw her out.
But she would die if he did.
He seized the food and strode through the kitchens, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know anything about her except that she was dangerously weak, and the sight of her stole his breath.
Raine slowed his pace back to the donjon. In the morning, she would leave—he would see to it. And, yet, he knew what would happen to a beautiful woman traveling alone. He bit back a curse at the thought.
She’s not your responsibility.
He knew that. And yet, as he entered the donjon and climbed the stairs bearing a basket of food, he also knew that he would follow her. No man would lay a hand upon this woman—not while he was guarding her.
Raine pushed the door open, and the chamber was warm and inviting. The woman was sleeping, her hand slightly open, her breathing deep and even. He moved silently, setting the food down on a low table before returning to the shadows.
He knew he should be resentful that this woman had stolen his bed. Instead, he felt...grateful that he could give her a place to sleep. There was the sense that he could watch her sleep all night long, and he would enjoy the peace upon her face.
She stirred a moment, and he remained against the far wall, out of the light. But a moment later, she sat up in the bed. Her long brown hair hung over her shoulders, and he yearned to move a lock aside, tasting her throat. Making her skin shiver with the hunger that was rising within him.
“I know you’re there,” she said quietly. “You built the fire up while I was sleeping.”
She spoke the Irish language, and for once he was thankful that he’d learned their words. Though he had lived among them for years, he had feigned ignorance of the language. It was far easier to gain information when the men believed they could speak freely without him able to understand.
He said nothing, not wanting to frighten her. And, yet, he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask this woman. Who she was...why she was here?
Copyright © 2015 by Michelle Willingham
Keep reading for an excerpt from LORD LAUGHRAINE’S SUMMER PROMISE by Elizabeth Beacon.
Lord Laughraine's Summer Promise
by Elizabeth Beacon
Chapter One
‘So where is this Cataret House School you might recall if you weren’t feeling “quite so mazed” by the heat?’ Sir Gideon Laughraine, otherwise known as Mr Frederick Peters, asked the pretend idiot he’d hailed for directions.
The idler scratched his grizzled head and shrugged as Gideon bit back a curse and wondered if anyone else would be about on such a sweltering afternoon. Unless he found a field being worked close to the road, there was probably nobody who wasn’t at work or staying inside out of the sun within hailing distance, so he dug in his waistcoat pocket for a small coin and held it up to encourage the man’s memory.
‘That’s it over yonder,’ the man finally admitted with a nod towards a farmhouse on the opposite side of the valley that looked as if it had delusions of grandeur. ‘Likely you’ll find the old girl in, but young miss went down the track to Manydown a half hour ago.’
Gideon bit back a curse and flipped the coin to the knowing rogue before turning his weary horse and following in young miss’s footsteps.
‘I wouldn’t want to find the old besom in a hurry either, mister,’ the knowing idiot told him before slouching off to spend his windfall in the local ale house.
‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ Gideon muttered grimly, not much looking forward to that encounter either, then he forgot the �
��old girl’ by wondering what the young one might be up to.
Would she blench at the very sight of him and look as if the devil was on her heels, or give him that delightful smile he still remembered with a gasp of the heart all these years on? Who knew? Lady Virginia Winterley was right though; he had to find out if his wife would ever smile at him again outside his favourite dreams.
Dear Boy, his late patroness and friend began the letter that heralded the third quest on her list, left in her will to chime with every new season of the year after her death. He’d had no inkling he was one of the unfortunates she’d decided to do good to until that demand he do as he was bid for the next three months was put in his hand by the new Lady Farenze.
I am quite sure it will come as a great surprise to you when dear Chloe tells you that you have the next quest on my list.
Well, yes, you’re quite right there, my lady, he thought with a shake of his dark head to admit she’d outfoxed him once again.
It should not be, she continued, as if she were standing at his shoulder and could see the sceptical expression on his face when he finally realised why Luke Winterley’s new wife had sought him out to hand him the letter from Lady Virginia.
You are my beloved Virgil’s secret grandson, and it is only out of consideration for your cousin, Lord Laughraine, that we have not been able to claim you openly. If we did so it would take away the only legal heir he has left to carry on his titles and estates and we both love and respect Charlie Laughraine far too much to do that to him or you. I know the true facts of your birth have been a trial to you ever since you were old enough to realise what the gossips had to say about your father’s true parentage, but they are a great comfort to me.
I shall always be glad I had time to watch you grow from the haunted, unhappy boy I first encountered into the fine man you are today, even though I’ve had to do so without my darling Virgil at my side. It has been such a pleasure to see you make your own way in life, much as I know Virgil would have done if he wasn’t born the heir to vast estates and the Farenze titles.
I don’t have words to say how much I loved my husband, and finding a way to drag you into my life was a selfish act, since you resemble him so closely in ways that go beyond a purely physical likeness. You do have that, of course, although I think James favours him more in outward details than you do, dear Gideon. You also have a true heart and a kind nature to balance that sharp mind of yours and it has been a delight for me to come to know you so much better these last few years than Virgil ever could while he was alive, for all his pleading with your father to let him at least know his grandson.
I think Esmond would have done anything to hurt his true father and withholding you from him was a way to show he had the power to hurt the man he blamed for ruining his life.
Gideon stopped and stared into the middle distance. He refused to think about his vexed relationship with his father and both Virgil and Esmond were beyond his intervention now, so he could worry about his wife instead. Callie had gone a determined distance from her aunt’s house on this devilishly hot day. He managed a rueful smile at the thought of what she would have to say about his heart and even the faith in his kindness Lady Virginia made so much of in her letter, not much to his credit he suspected. Once again he wondered what was so urgent Callie needed to walk out to find it on such a sweltering afternoon. Was she meeting a lover? A jag of hot jealousy made him gasp and a shaft of pain clutched at his gut.
After her last arctic-cold letter telling him never to contact her again, then nine years of silence, she wasn’t going to welcome him, but Lady Virginia was quite right, drat her. He checked the inner pocket of his coat where it lay across his saddle brow and heard the reassuring crackle of hot pressed paper against silk lining. An unconventional lawyer like him often needed a safe place to keep important letters, but this one was a very mixed blessing and its contents were already imprinted on his mind.
I know what I am going to ask of you is more than I demanded of dear Luke and my beloved godson, Tom Banburgh. I hope you have come to know them as a true kinsman and a stalwart friend these last six months, by the way, for you have lived without either for far too long.
So, your quest is to find your wife, my darling boy, and ask her for your heart’s desire. I can’t tell you if she will listen or be generous enough to give it to you, but you have to find out if there is any chance for your marriage, or between you make an end to it with dignity. If you go on as you are, you will be a haunted and lonely man for the rest of your life and I do so want you to be happy.
I was lucky enough to find the man I could love with everything I am, even luckier to live with him as long as I did, but you two children managed to love and lose one another before you should have been out of your schoolrooms.
Seek out that unlucky girl of yours with an open heart and discover if you can live together, Gideon. If you cannot, then agree on a separation and make some sort of life apart. I believe two such stubborn and contrary people were made for one another, but there’s no need to prove me wrong for the sake of it.
What you choose to do about Raigne and the splendid inheritance you are legally entitled to, as the last official Laughraine heir, is up to you. My advice is to stop being a stiff-necked idiot and listen to your cousin. Charles Laughraine has never been in the least bit like your supposed grandfather and his uncle, and I thought Sir Wendover Laughraine one of the most soulless and heartless men I ever came across, but his nephew is a very different man. As you have called him your Uncle Charles ever since you were old enough to talk I have to suppose you realise he is very happy to consider you part of his family, whatever the true facts of the case may be.
No doubt your wife will go her own way, but as you and I both know her to be Lord Laughraine’s natural granddaughter, she owes him a hearing even if she won’t listen to you. The future of such a large estate and all the people who depend on it must be decided before many more years go by. I wish it could be otherwise and please believe Virgil would have been delighted to openly claim you as his grandson, even though your father hated any reference to his own irregular birth and would never hear of it.
Charlie Laughraine is nigh as old as I am now and time will outrun you three stiff-necked idiots if you are not careful. All I have to add is a warning never to take anything that aunt of hers says at face value and look deeper into why that young romance of yours went so badly awry.
Don’t you shake your head at me again, Gideon Laughraine, I know you long for the love of your young life with everything you have in you a decade on from losing her. Admit it to yourself, then all you need do is find out if your wife suffers the same burden and do something about it.
Gideon almost wished he could forget the last letter from his friend and one-time mentor and ride back to London as fast as this unlucky beast would go. He could carry on with the nearly good enough life he’d made without his wife and the family they might have rejoiced in by now. What a fool he was to have agreed so readily to act as an extra pair of ears and eyes during Lady Virginia’s year of discovery for her four victims, though.
How had he thought he could stay uninvolved, even without this latest bombshell? No, a strong sense of justice made him corrected himself; they weren’t victims. The first two quests made Luke Winterley and Tom Banburgh the proud husbands of much-loved new wives. Two triumphs chalked up on the slate for the Lady then and, if he knew anything about himself and James Winterley, the score would be levelled by two lone wolves beyond redemption. Would Lady Virginia had wasted her energy on a more worthy cause and let him and Winterley go to the devil in their own way.
* * *
When she set out so determinedly this afternoon Callie intended to get to Manydown as fast as possible, so she could get back before anyone noticed she’d gone, but this clammy heat was defeating her. She slowed down but carried on, despite the nagging suspicion she
should go back to Cataret House and give up on her dream for today. The sad truth was she couldn’t face another afternoon of idle boredom now her pupils were with their family or friends for the summer. After a week of this heat and being at the beck and call of her aunt with no excuse to be busy elsewhere, she felt she must leave the house before they livened up a dull summer with an argument that ended in tears and days of stony silence.
It was quite wrong of her to feel like a virtual prisoner at Cataret House when the school wasn’t keeping her too busy to notice. Aunt Seraphina had been quite right—they’d both needed to start their lives anew nine years ago. They were let down and betrayed by two very different husbands at the time, so why not pool their limited resources and hire a house big enough to start a school? It had seemed a wonderful idea back then; they could live modestly on the profits and she could help fifteen young girls of mixed ability and middling birth learn about the world, or as much of it as young ladies were permitted to know. Her life had felt blank and hopeless at the time and Aunt Seraphina’s idea was inspired, but now a little voice kept whispering is this all?
No, she wouldn’t listen. She had experienced the storm and lightning of her great love affair and all it turned out to be was a mistake that hurt everyone she had ever cared for. The school made enough and their pupils were happy. If future wives and mothers were better informed people for having passed through their hands, maybe in time the world would change and ladies would be more highly valued by a society that regarded them as the legal chattels of their husbands, fathers or brothers. Here she was busy and useful and known as spinsterish Miss Sommers, and that was enough, most of the time. Nine years ago it had been impossible to drag the failure of her marriage about like a badge of stupidity so she reminded herself why she had wanted to leave youthful folly behind and shivered even in this heat.
Living in genteel poverty as her true self somewhere out of her husband’s orbit would have been worse than waiting on her aunt when the girls were away and feeling shut into this narrow life. Most of the time she enjoyed helping other people’s daughters learn about the world; and they employed a visiting dancing teacher and music mistress to add to Callie’s more academic teaching. Knowing her niece had absorbed the late Reverend Sommers’s scholarship far more eagerly than his daughters had, Aunt Seraphina let Callie teach the girls some of the lessons their brothers could expect to learn as a matter of course and where else could she do that? She reminded herself she was always a stranger to herself during the summer when there was little to distract her from the life she’d chosen. At this time of year she must fend off memories of passion and grief that were best forgotten; the secret was to occupy herself and this was as good a way as any.
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