A Dark Champion by Kinley MacGregor Page A

his lips curl under her hand and it was then she became aware of the fact that her flesh was touching his. That his lips, unlike the rest of him which was rock hard and steely, were soft. Tender.
    Swallowing, she dropped her hand.
    Stryder’s breath caught as he watched the uncertain look on her face. The lass was beautiful with her veil askew while tendrils of her hair curled around her face. Her skin was mottled by their run and her eyes light.
    Her lips slightly parted….
    It was those succulent lips that he focused on. Lips that begged for a taste. A nibble.
    And before he could stop himself, he pulled her closer to him. Closer. Close enough so that her curves were pressed up against the hardness of his chest.
    Aye, he wanted her.
    Wanted her insanely. Before he could think better of it, he dipped his head and took possession of that mouth. Stryder moaned the instant he tasted her. The instant her ever vexing tongue swept into his mouth where she hesitantly tasted him in turn. The innocence of that kiss made his head spin.
    Rowena was completely breathless as the strength of the earl overwhelmed her. The last thing she had expected was this overload of sensation that electrified her entire body.
    The strength of his hands pressing against her…the feel of his hard, muscled body.
    It was truly divine.
    No wonder women chased him down! He cupped her face with his hands as he deepened their kiss. Would she swoon? Surely no mere woman could feel this and not pass out.
    An image of him naked flashed in her mind and for the first time in her life, she understood desire. Physical attraction. Most of all, she understood lust.
    What she felt for him made a mockery of what she had ever felt for one of the troubadours who had come calling in Sussex. Lord Stryder was exceptional.
    He pulled back slowly and looked down at her.
    “Do all men kiss like that?” she asked quietly.
    One corner of his mouth lifted up. “I know not since I have never kissed a man.”
    She laughed in spite of herself. Lord Stryder was so unexpected. Who would have thought that a man like this could be funny and warm?
    Compassionate?
    “Would you do me a favor, milord?” she asked as she stepped back. “Be a boorish ass again.”
    He looked baffled by her request. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You’re much easier to hate when you’re being arrogant rather than charming.”
    He tilted his head to study her. “Do you wish to hate me?”
    “I would much rather hate you than be attracted to you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I don’t want to bury another man I care for when some lunatic takes it upon himself to attack him from behind and cut his throat. If, God forbid, I am to marry, I would rather it be to someone who has no enemies. Someone who never feels the lure of battle and all its dangers.”
    Stryder’s blue eyes were gentle as he took her handinto his. “Men die, Rowena. I am just as likely to trip and break my neck while walking across this yard as I am to fall in battle.”
    “Nay,” she said, her voice thick with pain and sorrow that not even all the past years could diminish. “There’s no real danger here. No one is running at you with an ax, trying to take your head from your shoulders.”
    “And Cyril was asleep in his bed. Far from the battlefield.”
    “But he was killed because he was a knight. Just as my father was. Nay, I want no more fear or strife. I want only to feel safe in my heart. To know that when I close my eyes, my husband will be by my side and not off to foreign lands to fight and die. I have no wish to live my mother’s hellish life.”
    “Your mother’s life was hellish?”
    Rowena found herself confiding in him. “Aye. My father was a good man. But they were placed together by their parents and had nothing in common. Ever. My father all but ignored my mother whenever he was home. He spent most of his time away from us.” Tears welled as she recalled the day of his death. “When my uncle came to tell us he