1
1150 AD, the north of England
Melina avoided the eyes of her bodyguard. It was something she was becoming adept at, since her father had brought him into the household and given him the task of keeping watch over her all day, every day, and sleeping across the threshold to her chamber every night. But it was no use. Even with her head turned she could feel his dark eyes upon her.
Deep dark pools that drew her into their depths, making her skin burn and her heart flutter. The one and only time she’d made the mistake of gazing into those eyes she’d paid the price, losing her wits entirely for several heartbeats. The man was handsome in a rugged way, his body hard and strong like a warrior’s should be, but it was more than that.
There was something . . . Was it the look of him, the scent of him, the taste of him? Not that she’d touched his skin with her tongue yet, but she’d thought about it. At night, in her chamber, in her luxurious bed with its furs and curtains, all alone with him outside her door.
Oh yes, Melina had the makings of a sensual woman and that was the trouble.
Because she was promised to old Lord Saunders, her father’s ally in this bitter civil war between the cousins Stephen and Matilda, a war which had been raging now for over fifteen years and had torn England apart. Lord Saunders would help her father to hold onto his lands against Stephen’s army—lands he had taken by force at the beginning of the war—and marriage to Melina would consolidate their military union . The one thing Lord Saunders had insisted upon was that she be a virgin when she came to their bed that first time. Evidently his previous wife had lain with another man first and his heir did not resemble him at all. His lordship did not want such a thing to occur again, and he was insistent upon her maidenhead being intact. And so the bodyguard had come to keep watch on her.
The bodyguard she dreamed of holding in her arms, naked.
“Lady Melina?”
The bodyguard’s voice was deep, the timbre of it brushing against her senses. Melina did not respond, humming to herself as if she was completely unaware of him standing so big at her back in the walled garden. She felt the heat of him like a blazing fire, she smelled the spicy scent of his skin. The ache between her legs grew more urgent, as it often was at night now, when she thought of him lying upon her threshold. Some nights the ache was so urgent that she had even taken the shameful step of touching herself to ease it.
“Lady Melina.”
His hand closed upon her arm.
He wasn’t allowed to touch.
Startled, Melina spun about, a frown furrowing her brow. His head was lowered from his greater height down to hers, but even so he was over a foot taller than she. She didn’t make the mistake of meeting his eyes, not this time, directing a cold stare beyond him instead.
“How dare you lay your hand on me, Grendell!”
To her surprise his hand wasn’t withdrawn. In fact he tightened his grip and moved closer, so close that his body brushed against hers. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she felt her breasts begin to ache and tighten. Oh no, no! This was not good. She must escape him now, at once, before her body betrayed her completely and something happened that must not happen.
“Lady Melina.”
She attempted to shrug his hand off, and when that didn’t work she began to prise at it with her fingers. But still he would not relinquish her. His grip was iron, but gentle; he was not hurting her, just holding her.
“Let me go,” she hissed.
Was he smiling? Melina could see the curve of his sensual mouth, and before she could stop herself she looked up into his dark eyes. No, no, no! But it was too late and already she was sinking into the midnight pools, feeling her heart begin its heavy pounding.
Pleasurable sensations rippled through her—it was as if her body was no longer her own to command—and she struggled to maintain control. And then his mouth was on hers. Hot and hard.
She was too shocked to move. A blast of heat scolded her as if she stood in the doorway to hell. But why was hell so pleasurable? Why was she feeling as if being here, in his powerful arms, was exactly where she should be?
Her own weakness frightened her and suddenly she was struggling in earnest.
His mouth slanted over hers, his lips moving in a constant mesmerising caress. Melina twisted against him, desperately seeking escape. Not because she was afraid, it wasn’t that, but because she was weakening rapidly in her resolve not to join in.
His kisses, the press of his body to hers, was eating away at her determination. From the moment he’d been introduced to her by her father, she’d wanted him. Wanted him in a way so sensual, so carnal, it made her burn with need and shame.