Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] by Crystal Flame

must stand between you and your destiny as the last
    daughter of the House of the Ice Harvest.
    But she was on the brink of that destiny tonight, Kalena told herself. Surely it was too late for a man's
    passion to deflect her from her goal. She would do what had to be done. The honor of her House would
    be avenged, Kalena promised herself. But tonight belonged to her. She was filled with a wild, reckless
    energy that convinced her she could handle both her mission and this passionate encounter.
    Tonight she could have still another taste of the heady freedom that would be hers when she had killed
    Quintel. She was strong enough to risk it. Olara was wrong. She was not so weak as to be seduced from
    her task by temptations, Kalena told herself. She could sample the temptation and still do her duty.
    She felt the rough edge of Ridge's hand on the line of her jaw. If something went wrong, if she failed in
    her task, or even if she succeeded but managed to bungle somehow, she could easily be dead by this
    time tomorrow. The thought of dying without ever having known the end result of this flaring exhilaration
    was infinitely depressing. Surely she could ignore Olara's warnings tonight. It was too late for any damage
    to be done. A few hours of passionate discovery in this man's arms would not cloud her mind or turn her
    aside from the task that awaited.
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    "Do you swear on your honor that you have no intention of punishing me for disobeying you tonight?
    That only desire guides you now?" she asked softly. If she was going to defy Olara's teachings and take
    the risk of giving herself to the Fire Whip, she had to be certain that his motives were as simple and
    honest as her own. She would take the risk of surrendering to passion and freedom, but she would not
    submit to some warped notion of retribution. She might be the last daughter of a Great House, but she
    was, nevertheless, a member of that House. She would act as such.
    Ridge cradled her face between his large hands, his fingers strong and sure and curiously gentle on her
    skin. "I think, sweet farm girl, that you have been breathing the intoxicating air of freedom for the past
    couple of days. You like it, don't you?"
    "Very much," she agreed with a tremulous smile.
    "Tonight you think you have discovered just how exciting it is to be on your own, calling no man lord,
    husband, or master." His eyes gleamed. "You've had quite an adventure, haven't you? Was it fun running
    a little wild?"
    Kalena sensed the new element of indulgence in him. "Yes," she admitted breathlessly, "it was fun."
    More fun than she had ever known in the years spent under Olara's bitter, vengeful, eye.
    "I don't intend to punish you for the fun you had tonight, Kalena," Ridge assured her in a low voice made
    almost lazy with sensuality. "I plan to show you that there is more excitement to be found on my pallet
    than you'll ever discover in a tavern brawl."
    Kalena lightly touched one of his hands as he held her face. Her fingers were trembling, she realized
    vaguely. In fact, her whole body was shivering ever so slightly. She felt light-headed as the reckless
    elation that had guided her all evening surged to a new strength, a thousand times more powerful than it
    had been even in the midst of the brawl. Freedom beckoned and could no longer be denied.
    "Ridge . . ." She put her palms on his shoulders, fascinated with the heat of his skin that penetrated the
    sturdy fabric of his shirt.
    "Come with me, farmer's daughter, and let me show you how exciting town life really is." Ridge shifted,
    one arm sweeping under her knees, the other behind her shoulders.
    The moon-tinted chamber swung dizzyingly for an instant as Kalena was lifted high against Ridge's chest.
    She closed her eyes and clung to him, aware that he was striding toward the low, curtained pallet at the
    far end of the room. She would not think of the past or