His Captive Princess by Sandra Jones

Mine, Gieva de Tracy, bore Henry two children, including myself. My father acknowledged my little sister’s birthright, but died before acknowledging me. Though after everything…I am for certes he never would’ve claimed me as his son if he’d lived to be a hundred.” He shrugged.
    There was nothing but honesty in his words and his resigned demeanor.
    Her breath rushed out as horror washed over her. “Oh Goddess! I’ve kidnapped a king’s son!”
    “A bastard son,” he said lightheartedly. “And now another king, my cousin, sits upon my father’s throne, so you see I have royal blood, but again naught else to recommend me, except…that which I’ve fought for.”
    He leaned back and the shadows hid his face. Eleri longed to see him better, to search his expression at the moment. She recalled his body: the scars, dark skin, muscles and calluses of a knight—aye, he’d fought hard.
    “I’m sorry, Warren,” she whispered.
    Sorry his father had passed away so recently, leaving him without making peace…sorry she’d treated him as a marauding villain, and…
    Sorry they’d started as enemies.
    She winced as another thought struck her. “So this is why you have assassins trying to kill you?”
    “Perhaps.” His voice was clipped. “There are some who hate me for other reasons.”
    Her gut squeezed. She couldn’t change her course of action—not when Lew’s life hung in the balance—but she couldn’t make herself hate Warren, either.
    Beyond caring if any priests were watching, she followed her instincts, letting go of her blanket to cup his face in her hands. The rough texture of his skin against her palms felt masculine and earthy. Natural. His fascinating eyes widened with surprise, then his gaze lowered to her lips as the sadness he’d shared dissolved into the same hunger she felt.
    Desire surged within Eleri. Unable to stop herself, she brought her mouth to his.
    His hands slid into her hair, holding her as he returned her kiss. She wouldn’t have ended it, though. Not when his touch brought such relief to her. His lips brushed over the corners of her mouth, the tip of his tongue slowly following the curve of her lower lip before she opened to him. His fingers caressed the back of her neck, sliding up and down, awakening her senses to the pure pleasure of his coarse skin against hers. She suckled his tongue, and he groaned.
    His hands floated down her body before fisting in the front of her thin chemise.
    Oh, Goddess! She’d come outside dressed in her sleeping garment.
    Panicking, she reached for the blanket, but Warren’s fingers captured her breast and fondled her flesh. “We’re alone,” he murmured.
    Her body tingled with wicked pleasure, her fear seeping away into the night.
    He lifted his head and kissed her cheek then beneath her ear and along her jaw. He grabbed her waist and urged her closer, angling his head to nibble her neck. As he descended her collarbone and dropped a trail of warm kisses along the edge of her bodice, she arched her back, giving him complete permission.
    His hand slid around her thigh and pulled her legs across his lap. Then, with his arms wrapped securely around her, he lowered his mouth to her breast and took her nipple through the fabric of her gown. Heat fanned through her.
    She gripped his solid shoulder in one hand and sank her other hand into his hair, holding him to her breast. “Warren—”
    He lifted his head, cradling her damp bosom in his hand. His thumb stroked across her hardened nipple, sending darts of delight through her as he regarded her. “Mmm…I like the sound of my name on your lips. I would like it even better if we didn’t have to whisper. Come with me.” He set her on her feet, rising as he steadied her against his chest.
    Her knees wobbled, and she was thankful for his arms around her. He took her hand to lead her toward the stables.
    “No.” She pulled against him, unwilling to end things, but also not wanting to risk