Читать книгу Her Battle-Scarred Knight - Meriel Fuller - Страница 2

‘Giseux,’ she said loudly. ‘Giseux, wake up!’

In response, his fingers clawed into his upper thigh, the sinews in his hand rigid, straining. Snaring the muscular bulk of his shoulders between her hands, she tried to shake him, tried to lift his upper body from the ground. But to no avail: he was too heavy. In desperation her eyes searched the cottage interior, the uneven walls, for something that might help, before a sudden bizarre idea touched her.

Blood hurtled through her veins, blossoming in the skin of her face.

Hands on his shoulders, she dipped her head. Kissed him.

Her soft lips touched his firm mouth in a last attempt to hush the demons of the night that claimed him. A dangerous warmth stole over her, melting her limbs, turning the muscles in her knees to useless mush; she shuddered, striving to hold her body away from him. It was only a kiss, she told herself. A simple device to alleviate his distress. Yet the touch of his mouth spiralled each nerve in her body to a singing desire, a yearning for more.