The Warrior's Forbidden Virgin by Michelle Willingham Page A

know how he dared come closer, he moved beside her. He rested his own palms upon the wet stone wall, wishing he had the courage to say more.
    But he would only sound like a stuttering fool. And so he held his tongue.
    “My sister is going to wed Ewan MacEgan now,” Katherine said softly. She kept her gaze averted from his. “I suppose she told you.”
    He shrugged. Though he’d briefly entertained the idea of marrying Honora St. Leger, Katherine’s older, widowed sister, his courtship had lasted only a few days. Honora had been visibly embarrassed by it, claiming she didn’t want to wed any man.
    “I was never the…the sort of man she wanted.” He shielded any expression on his face, for he didn’t want Katherine to pity him. Though he’d admired Honora, she’d been unable to go through with the betrothal. At least she’d had the honesty to break things off between them, apologizing for what she’d done.
    He should have resented her for it. But he felt nothing. Only a strange sense of relief.
    A cold hand covered his, and he almost jerked away in surprise. Lady Katherine ventured a chagrined smile. “We are a pair, aren’t we? Both of us cast off by the ones we loved.”
    Out of rough instinct, his fingers closed over her small palm. Like a delicate shell, one he could crush without thinking. He felt ham-handed, awkward. And yet, he didn’t want to let go of her.
    Katherine glanced down at the stones below. Frustration tightened her features. “Which of us should jump first?”
    An unexpected laugh escaped him. “It would be a mortal sin to take our own lives.”
    “They’ve been ruined anyhow,” Katherine muttered. She started to pull her hand away, but his fingers couldn’t quite let her go.
    Palm to palm, skin to skin, he grasped her other hand. And Katherine didn’t pull away.
     
    She was going to let go of his hands. At any moment now.
    Katherine lifted her gaze to the Norman knight standing before her. Exceptionally tall, with blond hair and a tightly honed form, she wondered what in the name of Heaven she was doing with Sir Ademar. She barely knew him, though they had spent the better part of a fortnight in each other’s company. He was one of several suitors who had come to ask for her hand in marriage.
    But he wasn’t the man she’d wanted.
    Oh, Sir Ademar was a kind enough person. He rarely spoke, and he was by far one of the most skilled fighters. If she hadn’t let herself be so caught up by Ewan MacEgan, she might have considered him.
    Just the thought of Ewan made her want to strike her fist against the stone wall. He’d apologized, saying that he’d wronged her. He said he’d never meant to fall in love with Honora.
    Her sister was a woman unafraid of anything. Legendary with a sword, Honora could fight against any man and win. Katherine had envied her strength.
    Silently, she wished that she weren’t the good sister. What had that gotten her, but a broken heart? Bitterness bled through her veins like acid.
    Only last night, she’d seen her sister and Ewan embracing each other. Touching one another as though nothing else in the world existed. Certainly not her.
    Katherine didn’t care that it was raining, that her entire body was frigid with cold. Never before had she been so furious, so intent on striking out at the two people closest to her. She wanted to punish both Ewan and Honora, to do something wicked. To hurt them, the way she was hurting inside.
    Without thinking, she tore her hands from Ademar’s grip. She took his face, pulling him down into her kiss. His mouth was warm and wet, something she hadn’t expected. She tasted the wine of his breath, mingled with rain. Her skin warmed immediately, while something forbidden awakened within her.
    Ademar kissed her back, dragging her against his hard body. It didn’t seem to matter that their clothes were soaked, that he was hardly more than a stranger. A rush of longing roared inside her, wanting his touch.
    Was this what