A Knight's Vengeance by Catherine Kean Page B

He could not conquer her will, so he would subdue her body instead.

This man was her sworn enemy.

She betrayed her father by wanting de Lanceau's touch.

Resentment drowned her last glimmerings of pleasure.

De Lanceau hesitated. He lifted his lips from hers and stared down into her face, his heavy-lidded gaze intense.

Protecting her bruised arm, she braced her palm against his chest and shoved with all her might. She kicked his shins and scratched with her nails. He swore, yelped, and she broke free.

Elizabeth darted behind the bed. "You rogue!" With the back of her wrist, she scrubbed her mouth, desperate to erase the taste and feel of him.

"I did not hear you protesting a moment ago." He dragged a hand through his mussed hair and glared at her.

"You will pay for your boldness. My father will see you punished."

De Lanceau's eyes glinted like steel. "Consider what happened fair warning, damsel. Next time, you will not escape unscathed."

Chapte r Eight

Geoffrey strode into the hall, his clipped strides shattering the near silence.

Dominic glanced up from where he sat by the hearth. "The first adventure, milord?"

With a savage roar, Geoffrey slammed his fist down on a trestle table. Stoneware mugs bounced into the air with a dissonant clink. The scullery maids setting out bread for the evening meal shrieked and glanced at one another. He scowled in their direction, and, after frantic curtsies, they disappeared into the stairwell.

Aware of Dominic's grin, refusing to acknowledge it, Geoffrey grabbed a mug, sloshed in some ale, and downed it in one gulp. The drink cooled his burning throat.

Every muscle in his body felt taut as a drawn bowstring.

Because of her.

Dominic rose from a carved oak chair. He raised an eyebrow and his gaze dropped to the scratch marks on Geoffrey's jerkin.

"What happened?"

Geoffrey swore. He did not use the vulgar oath often, but he embellished it with other expletives.

Chuckling, Dominic shook his head. "Send the ransom demand now. If the lady is that much trouble, you are best rid of her."

A silent bellow exploded inside Geoffrey. He wished the solution were that simple. His blood pounded with a need that only a woman could assuage. In the musty hall, tempered by the tang of old rushes and smoke, he still smelled Elizabeth's perfume that clung to her skin and hair.

He had gone to her chamber intending to frighten her and subdue her into respect for his authority. The moment he strode in and saw her gilded by sunlight, he longed to kiss her. She was stunning, a woman who would tempt him wearing naught but rags.

His fingers had itched to plow into her hair and feel its silk. Her bewitching blue eyes had challenged him to taste her, woo her, and coax back the radiant smile which had faded when she turned from the window and saw him.

He should never have given in to the urge to taste her lips. He should have guessed the experience would be as frustrating as her sharp tongue.

She was the daughter of his enemy, the man responsible for his father's death. Forbidden.

He was a fool to crave her.

Geoffrey released his breath on a hiss.

"Take my recommendation," Dominic insisted. "Send—"

"We keep to the original plan." Shrugging tension from between his shoulders, Geoffrey stalked toward the solitude of the hearth. He sprawled in one of the chairs facing the fire and cursed; his carelessness with the mug had caused a slosh of ale, which soaked his thigh.

He did not glance up when Dominic sat in the other chair. Logs had recently been added to the blaze, and the flames crackled and shot sparks across the tiled hearth. Geoffrey leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and stretched his legs toward the inviting warmth.

Ah, for a moment of quiet.

In the space of three heartbeats, he sensed a powerful feminine presence stroll into the gap between the chairs.

The rustle of silk identified her, along with the scent of rosewater. Veronique. He would never mistake the signature fragrance of