Jamie’s anger warred with his common sense. Dead men demanded he ride to avenge them. A scrap of plaid demanded he ride south. Yet…why? He would have given anything for more evidence. The act bordered on insanity. Was he sure of what he was doing?
The mist was rising steadily as Jamie entered the wooded glen.
Then he heard a sound, and in a flash he slid off his horse and ran for cover. But when he listened again, he recognized the sound as a giggle, a feminine giggle.
Leaving his horse behind, he moved stealthily through the bracken and trees toward the sound.
When Jamie saw her, he wasn’t quite sure he believed the vision. A young girl was standing waist-deep in a small pool, the mist swirling about her head. She looked like a water sprite, a kelpie, unreal, yet real enough.
The girl laughed again as she splashed water across her naked breasts. The sound enchanted Jamie. He was mesmerized by the girl, rooted where he was, watching her play. She was frolicking and having a joyous time of it.
She was like nothing he had ever seen before, a beauty, and no mistake about it. In a moment she faced him, and he saw nearly all of her loveliness. Pearly white skin contrasted starkly with brilliant, deep red hair. Almost magenta, it was so dark and gleaming and long. Two strands waved around her breasts and floated in the water. And those breasts were tantalizing, round, high and proud in youthful glory, the peaks sharply pointed because of the caress of icy water. Her features were unmistakably delicate. The only thing not clear to Jamie was the color of her eyes. He was not quite close enough to see, and the reflection of the water made them appear a blue so clear and bright as to be glowing quite impossibly. Was his imagination running wild? He wanted to move closer and see.
What he really wanted was to join her in the water. It was an insane idea, born of the strange effect she was having on him. What if she let him come to her, let him touch her as he ached to do? He had to leave before common sense completely fled. As if to point out his folly in tarrying, the first rays of sun broke through the glen, showing him the time he had wasted. His brother and the others would have all returned to the men by the river. They would all be waiting for him.
Jamie was suddenly sickened. Watching the girl, being transported to what seemed a sphere outside reality, he was appalled by the contrast between the lovely scene before him and the bloody one he would see in just a short while. Yet he could no more stop the one that was soon to happen than he could forget the one he was watching. Both seemed inevitable.
Jamie’s last look at the girl was a wistful one. Beams of sunlight dotted the pool, and one touched the girl and lit her hair like a burst of flame. With a sigh, he turned away. That last vision of the mystical girl would be etched in his memory for a long time to come.
Love Only Once
With Love Only Once, Johanna Lindsey introduced her beloved Malory family. The romances of these outrageous and outspoken sensualists, set in the ever-popular Regency era, are pure magic. Nicholas Eden, the rakish fourth Viscount of Montieth, is as enchanted as readers during this first encounter with Regina Ashton. Having just discovered that he has accidentally kidnapped the Malory ingenue, he is now setting her free. But if he is expecting anger from his unintended hostage, he’s in for a surprise.
She stood framed by the window, gazing at him in a startlingly direct way. There was no shyness in her look and no fear either on that exquisite, delicate, heart-shaped face. The eyes were disturbing, with an exotic slant. Such dark blue eyes in that fair face, so blue and clear, like colored crystal. The lips were soft and full and the nose was straight and slender. A thick fringe of sooty lashes framed those extraordinary eyes, while black brows arched gently above them. Her hair was raven black, too, in tight little ringlets surrounding her face, giving her fair skin a glow like polished ivory.
She was breathtaking. The beauty didn’t stop with her face, either. She was petite, yes, but there was nothing childlike about her form. Firm young breasts pressed against the thin muslin of her rose gown. He wanted to pull the rose muslin down a few inches and watch those lovely breasts spring free. He received another jolt then, feeling his manhood rise against his will. Lord, he hadn’t lost control like that since his youth!
Desperate to bring everything under control, he cast about for something—anything—to say. “Hello.”
His tone implied “What have we we here?” and Reggie grinned despite herself. He was gorgeous, simply gorgeous. It wasn’t just his face, though that was striking. There was a sexual magnetism about him that was quite unnerving.
“Hello, yourself,” Reggie said impishly. “I was beginning to wonder when you would realize your mistake. You certainly took enough time about it.”
“I am just now wondering if I have in fact made a mistake at all. You don’t look like a mistake. You look very much like something I did right for a change.”
He quietly closed the door and leaned back against it, those beautiful amber eyes boldly moving over her from head to foot. It was not at all safe for a young lady to be alone with a man of his stamp, and Reggie recognized that. Yet for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she wasn’t afraid of this man. Scandalously, she wondered if it would be such a terrible thing to lose her virtue to him. Oh, it was a reckless mood she was suddenly in!
She eyed the closed door and his large frame blocking that only exit. “Fie on you, sir. I hope you don’t mean to compromise me more than you already have.”
“I will if you will let me. Will you? Think carefully before you answer,” he said with a devastating smile. “My heart is in jeopardy.”
She giggled, delighted. “Stuff! Rakes like you don’t have hearts. Everyone knows that.”
Nicholas was enchanted.
Hearts Aflame
Kristen Haardrad has been imprisoned by the Saxon warlord Royce when her shipmates dared to attack Royce’s lands. The Viking maiden has been searching for a man who could stir her senses and make her blood sing, and now she’s finally found him in Royce. So with the full force of her Viking determination she sets out to win the heart and love of her captor.
Kristen had been stretching when she heard the steps crossing the floor, coming from the entrance. She jumped up curiously, her heartbeat quickening when she saw Royce coming out of the shadows, his direction not the stairs, but toward her, straight to her.
She did not move, waiting for him to reach her. His expression was intense, harsh, and her heart beat even faster, not in fear but in expectation. When he stopped, she felt only a moment’s surprise when his hand went to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping her hair to yank her head back. She held her breath as his eyes moved angrily over her face.
“Why do you tempt me so?” He asked this not of her but to himself.
“Do I, milord?”
“You do it apurpose,” he hissed before his mouth slashed down over hers.
Kristen had waited for this, to know the feel of lips, to be able to touch him. She had wanted this to happen, but she had not guessed how devastating the actuality would be. Nothing could have prepared her for such a violent jolt of desire, when she had never felt desire before.
His mouth moved over hers brutally in his anger. He gripped her hair, holding her still for this ravishment, yet he did not touch her otherwise. Kristen was the one to lean into him, until she could feel the full length of his body and know the extent of his desire. This inflamed her more. She didn’t care that this was not what he wanted, that he was kissing her against his own will, and probably hating her more because of it, she wrapped her arms around his back, moving her hands up over the hard muscle there until she gripped his shoulders, holding him tight to her.
She heard him groan at her complete acceptance of him, and his other arm slipped about her waist, crushing her tighter to him. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she drew on it, capturing it like a prize, refusing to let go. God in heaven, this was wonderful, more thrilling than anything she had ever felt before. She would have let him ta
ke her there, in the hall, on the table, the floor—she didn’t care. She wanted to make love with him now, before he came to his senses and stopped.
He did stop, and Kristen sighed miserably when his lips left hers. He looked down at her, his eyes fierce, filled half with passion, half with fury. She met his look boldly, but this served only to anger him more.
With a snarl, he shoved her away from him. “My God, you have no shame, do you?”
“I feel no shame in wanting you,” she told him softly. She smiled then at his snort of disbelief. Deliberately, she added in a teasing tone, “You are my heartmate, Royce. Begin to accept it. You will eventually.”
“You will never count me as one of your lovers, wench,” he stated emphatically.
She shrugged, the sigh she gave louder than necessary. “Very well, milord, if that is your wish.”
“Not my wish, the truth,” he insisted. “And you will cease to use your tricks on me.”
Kristen could not help but laugh at this order. “What tricks are those, milord? I am only guilty of looking at you, mayhap more than I should, but I cannot seem to help myself. You are, after all, the most splendid man here.”
He drew in his breath sharply. “God’s mercy, are all Vikings as brazen as you?”
“What you call brazen, I call honesty. Would you rather I lie and say I hate you, that I despise the sight of you?”
“How can you not hate me? I have enslaved you. I keep you shackled and I know you hate the chain. I think you do hate me, that you tempt me apurpose, hoping to have revenge by bewitching me.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “I am through telling you what I hope for, through speaking the truth to you when you will not believe it. Think whatever you like.”
She turned her back on him, but was tense, waiting for him to walk away. He did not do so immediately. She imagined he was fighting to control a new fury that she would dare dismiss him like that. She would have been much appeased if she had seen that his eyes had simply moved over her, revealing for one unguarded moment the yearning in his soul.
Once a Princess
What woman hasn’t dreamed of being Cinderella, of being rescued by a handsome prince to a better world than the one she lives in? In Once a Princess, that fantasy comes alive for Tanya, but the lovely orphan isn’t quite ready to believe that fairy tales can happen for her.
Tanya couldn’t hold back the incredulous thought any longer. “Do—do you know who my parents are?”
“It is possible—if you carry a certain—birthmark that is—hereditary.”
She didn’t even notice his hesitation over those pertinent words. She was trying to tamp down her excitement, because what he was suggesting was just too unlikely to be true. And yet—ever since she’d found out that she was unrelated to Dobbs and Iris, she’d wondered about her real parents, where they came from, what they were like, who they were.
Other girls had backgrounds, rich in detail and color. Her life was a blank page begun in a tavern. Now here were four strangers hinting at knowledge she craved as much as, if not more than, her independence. To finally have a real identity, a family history, possibly even relatives still living—a birth date! It was just too wonderful to be true, and if she allowed her hopes to be raised, she’d be doomed to disappointment. And to have it all hinge on a birthmark?
“We are certain of your identity, mistress. The mark that will prove it should be found on the underside of your seat, on the left cheek. It will no doubt require a mirror for you to examine it, but go and do so now, and do so carefully, so you may return and describe the mark to us.”
“And if I won’t?”
“Then you may possibly be offended when we locate the mark ourselves, to end all doubt, you understand.”
She was quickly learning that Stefan could be cruel in his remarks. Her cheeks flaming, she hissed, “You bastard,” but he merely crooked a brow at her, showing her how little it mattered to him that he’d insulted her—again. “What happens if the mark is there?”
“Then you will return with us to Cardinia.”
“Where is that?”
“It’s a small country in Eastern Europe. It’s where you were born, Tatiana Janacek.”
A name. Her name? God, this was becoming real again, her hopes soaring again. “Is that why you’re here? To take me back?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have family there? They sent you to find me?”
“No.” His tone softened for the moment. “Regrettably, you are the last of your line.”
Up and down, these hopes. Why did she let herself be lured in by possibilities? All right, no family. But a name, a history—if they were telling the truth, and if she had the mark.
“If I don’t have any family left, then why did you bother to find me?”
“These questions are pointless, mistress, until you prove to us all, yourself included, that you possess the mark that names you a Janacek.”
“I don’t care how pointless you find my questions, I’m not moving an inch until I know the real reason you came here.”
Stefan took a menacing step closer, but she didn’t budge. He growled down at her, “For no other reason than to collect you and return you—”
“Why?”
“For your wedding!”
“My what?”
“You are to marry the new King of Cardinia.”
Angel
Angel never thought of himself as a hero. He was just a man with a gun and a reputation who had always walked a solitary path. But when a debt lands him in a marriage with a refined young woman who interferes in everyone’s life, including his own, the inscrutable loner finally learns what it means to need someone.
“Are we divorced yet?”
Cassie woke with a start, that soft drawl echoing in her ears. “What?”
“Are we divorced yet?”
She knew instantly who he was, she just couldn’t believe he was there. “Angel?”
His hand slipped into her hair as his body moved to cover hers. “Just answer the question, Cassie.”
“We’re not. I just haven’t had the time—”
His mouth came down to cut off the rest of her explanation. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in her excuses just now. But what he was interested in was bundled up in warm flannel.
“How come you don’t sleep naked?”
It was a question born of frustration, not one for a lady to take seriously. Cassie answered anyway. “I do in the summertime.”
He groaned, knowing full well an image of her naked was going to haunt him now. And his tongue slid in deep, eliciting an answering groan out of Cassie. It was a while before they drew breath.
“You got the sweetest, softest lips I ever did taste,” he said against them.
“Your voice makes me tingle, Angel.”
“What does my mouth do to you?”
“It makes me weak.”
His mouth moved up to suck on her earlobe. “What else?”
“Hot,” she whispered.
“Oh, God, Cassie, I’m going to burst if I can’t get inside you right now.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
He laughed and kissed her again. Then he rolled to her side to shove the covers off her. She tore the top of her nightgown open, popping off three buttons in her impatience to get it off. He yanked his shirt out of his pants and sent his buttons to join hers on the bed and the floor. In seconds he was back, pressing her into the mattress. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, locking him in place. And then he was inside, deep inside, and that familiar throbbing came so quickly, bursting on her senses, pulsing around him, drawing his own climax to mesh with hers.
Cassie lowered her legs slowly. Her toes slid against leather. Angel was still wearing his boots, and his pants. She wanted to laugh, but she felt like crying.
God, how she hated the reality that surfaced after the passion was spent. She resented that. She resented Angel, too, at the moment. And she particularl
y resented the fact that he hadn’t taken off his boots.
She let him know it with the curt admonishment, “Next time take off your boots.”
“I’ll take them off now.”
“No, you won’t. You aren’t staying.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet, Cassie. And that was too intense. We’re going to try it again, slow and easy.”
Her stomach fluttered in response to those words. She suppressed the feeling.
“No, we aren’t,” she told him stiffly. “You’re going to get out of here before my mama hears you and comes charging in with her gun blazing.”
“Where is she?”
“In the next room.”
“Then we’ll have to be quiet, won’t we?”
“Angel—”
His mouth was back, slanting across hers with tantalizing skill. She couldn’t let that work this time. She couldn’t.
She did. She’d missed him too much, wanted him too much, to be sensible about it. And there had been the thought, haunting her ever since he’d ridden out of her life, that she’d never know his touch again.
Now his touch was breaking the last of her resistance with a slow sweep of his hand over her breasts and belly. Gooseflesh followed in wake; nipples tingled to hardness. She’d just had the most incredible explosion of pleasure imaginable, but her body was firing up to experience it again. And in no way did Angel hurry her toward that end. He’d said slow and easy, and that was exactly how he proceeded.
It was nearly dawn before Angel finally got his fill of her. Cassie was too sated to feel any more resentment. And he’d been right. The first time had been over with too quickly. The rest…Lord love him, the man was as good at loving as he was with a gun.
About the Author
Johanna Lindsey has been hailed as one of the most popular authors of romantic fiction, with more than sixty million copies of her novels sold. World renowned for her novels of “first-rate romance” (New York Daily News), Lindsey is the author of forty-seven previous national bestselling novels, many of which reached the #1 spot on the New York Times bestseller list. Lindsey lives in Maine with her family.