Prologue

“ T hank you. You can leave us.”

At Esyllt’s command, the two guards bowed and left the room. Once the sound of their footsteps had been swallowed by the spiral staircase, she looked at the man they had deposited on the chair she had readied in preparation for him. Following her instructions, they had not only covered his eyes and bound his wrists but they had also tied him to the back of the chair.

A smile curved her lips.

He was not going anywhere, at least not until she’d had what she wanted from him.

Taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t see her, she looked her fill. Far from ranting and writhing in protest, Lord Sheridan’s squire was sitting stock still and his breathing was even and calm, much calmer than her own. It unnerved her. If he didn’t feel in a position of inferiority, then she wasn’t quite sure how she would gain the upper hand. Intimidation had never been her weapon of choice, and she wasn’t sure how to wield it in front of such a man. That he was a seasoned warrior was obvious from his physique, and that he was used to dealing with women intent on seducing him was all too clear. The way he had ogled her during the banquet had been indecent.

That was the only word she could think of to describe it. Indecent. And it had made her body burst into flames.

Esyllt swallowed hard. Had she not been too presumptuous? Perhaps. She had neither the strength to fight a warrior nor the skill to handle a seducer. In truth, she even lacked the will to go through with this mad plan of hers.

Still, he was here now, so she had better not waste the opportunity, because there would not be another.

Silently, she edged closer. After one last glance at his perfect chest molded in a tight tunic, she set about untying the cloth from his eyes. The gesture was disturbingly intimate, something she had not anticipated. Perhaps she should have asked one of the guards to do that for her because, sitting as he was, the squire’s mouth was level with her breasts. Though she reminded herself that he was not here for her pleasure, she could not help but shiver at the thought of him placing his lips on her.

Damnation, she should have approached him from behind to untie the knot, it would have been a lot less intimate. From such close quarters, he could probably smell the floral water she liked to dabble between her breasts and if he moved but an inch forward, he would touch her.

When the cloth finally fell to the floor, she took a step backward to look at him.

The man lifted his eyes to hers. Oh, those eyes! She had no choice but to call them green, but they looked almost transparent, and his dark coloring only made them more piercing. Black stubble covered his jaw, and his short hair was disheveled, testimony to the fact that he had been dragged to her bedchamber straight from bed. His mouth was set in a hard, disapproving line. Oh, that mouth! The sensual curve of his lips made her blood run ten times faster in her veins.

“Would you care to explain what is happening, my lady?” he said when it became obvious she was too fascinated to speak.

A shiver traveled down Esyllt’s spine. The gruff voice made it clear he was beside himself with fury, even if he appeared calm. She had better get this over with as quickly as she could.

“Your master and I are to be married at dawn.”

His arched brow indicated he was already aware of the fact and did not see what it had to do with his abduction. She carried on, making sure to look anywhere but at him. It was one thing admitting to her rash plan, quite another doing so while looking him in the eye.

“It is not my wish to be married again, much less to an Englishman, but I have not been given any choice, as you can imagine. I’m only a woman, after all. My personal preferences do not count. The whole thing has been decided without my consent by the local Welsh lords for reasons I do not agree with.”

That was the least she could say.

Freshly widowed, she was to be used as a pawn in their game of domination. At first, she had been surprised to hear Gruffydd ap Hywel, one of her late husband’s friends, who was fiercely opposed to the English rule, demand that she marry a man he considered an oppressor, but she had quickly seen that he merely meant to use this union as a way of ridding himself of a powerful lord. Once married and settled in a hostile land, away from allies who would never even get to hear of his disappearance, Lord Sheridan was to be disposed of. Though she didn’t agree with those underhand methods, Esyllt had not been able to voice her protests. She was only a woman, as she’d said, and thus unfit to have an opinion, much less behave in accordance to it.

She looked at the man on the chair, hoping he would sympathize with her plight. His stern stare indicated that he did not, however, so she carried on.

“I cannot refuse to marry Lord Sheridan. However, if he were to decide that he would rather not marry me after all, then it would be quite diff?—”

The man did not even let her finish. “What makes you think he would change his mind now? He’s been negotiating this union for weeks, enduring endless discussions in the process, he’s traveled for days in foul weather to come and claim his Welsh bride. He’s hardly going to cry off now because you took his squire hostage.”

Despite the uncomfortable and humiliating position she had put him in, the man spoke calmly. Esyllt could not help but admire his equanimity. Her task would have been a whole lot easier if he had been a more impressionable man. Alas, there was nothing meek about him.

“I am not taking you hostage,” was all she could say.

“Am I to assume this is how guests are treated in Wales then?” A glance at the ropes binding him to the chair made his meaning clear. “A most endearing custom, to be sure.”

Esyllt bit her bottom lip. His composure was unsettling. True, she posed no real threat to him but still, she had imagined a proud warrior would be furious to find himself bested by a woman. He didn’t appear furious, only mocking.

The time for arguing was over. She had to get on with the second part of the plan.

“In a moment Lord Sheridan is going to walk into this room. My men have gone to get him. When he enters, he will find his bride and his squire... coupling.”

The word, or rather the image it created in her mind, sent heat to her cheeks.

“Will he really?” The man’s lips twisted into a smile. “You might need my cooperation for that.”

She gave a movement of impatience. They were wasting precious time. “We are not going to actually do anything, of course.”

“How then is he going to think that we are, in your words, ‘coupling’?”

Without a word, Esyllt untied the laces of her gown and let it fall to the floor. In preparation for this moment, she had donned a garment that could be discarded without the help of a lady’s maid. Underneath, she wore nothing but a very revealing shift.

The man’s eyes widened in shock. Clearly, he had not expected such a bold move.

Before he could say anything or lose her nerve, she lifted her shift to come straddle his lap. He was so tall and strong that her feet didn’t touch the floor, something she had not anticipated and that did little to help her hold on to a semblance of composure. Unbalanced, she gripped his shoulders to steady herself. Under her palms, she felt rock hard muscles.

Dear Lord. This was a lot more unsettling, a lot more arousing than she had expected, a most unfortunate turn of events. She was supposed to be in control of what would happen, not him.

“What does it look like now?” she asked, her voice huskier than she would have liked. “Lord Sheridan will think me the most shameful wanton, a wild creature governed only by lust and possibly carrying his squire’s bastard child. After that, he will no doubt demand that?—”

“Let me stop you right here,” the man cut in. “Lord Sheridan, whatever you may think of him, is not a fool. I am tied to the chair and I am fully clothed. He will know that in these conditions, nothing could have happened between us.”

Damnation, he was right. At the moment, it looked like he was here against his will, not the impression she wanted to give. She needed to make it seem as if he were not her captive but her lover. The ropes may well have to go. But if she freed him... Then she would have no way of controlling him or ensuring his cooperation.

As if he’d read her mind, he gave a side smile. “I’m risking a lot just by being here, and we both know it. It is in my interest to remain tied up, so as to avoid Lord Sheridan’s wrath. But if you want him to believe we are coupling, you will have to untie me.” He paused then looked at her from under his long, dark lashes, as if in consideration. When something in his eyes flashed, she understood he had taken a decision. “Of course if you were really determined?—”

“I am.” This was not in question.

“Well, then, I suppose we do not have to pretend. If you were willing, something could happen between us. For real. It could be compensation, shall we say, for the risk I’m taking.”

Esyllt inhaled sharply when he bucked upward to show her just how ready he was to aid her in her plans.

“Y-you...” she stammered, in both shock and confusion. Never had she felt such an uncompromising proof of masculine desire nudging at the place between her legs. Her late husband, God rest his soul, had never achieved such iron hardness. “You are hard!”

“What did you expect?” The corner of his lips curled. “A beautiful lady is sitting astride me, her bare flesh is pressing against my most sensitive part, and by her own admission, she wants to couple with me.” The green eyes seemed to catch fire, which in turn, sent molten lava down her veins.

“I never said I actually wanted to couple with you,” Esyllt croaked.

“No, you didn’t say it,” he conceded. “But you do.”

How did he know that what had only started as a pretense, as a means to an end, nothing more, had inflamed her whole body?

“Untie me, my lady. Then I could give you what you really want. For a moment in your arms, I’m ready to take any risk.” His voice was so low she had to lean in to hear what he was saying. As she did so, her breasts brushed against his chest. The pleasure shooting through her at the intimate contact had her bite her lip to stifle a moan. “The whole thing would be more believable if we were in a bed, don’t you think? Not many people couple on a chair in the middle of the room, you know.”

Yes, perhaps it would be more believable in a bed, but would it be better? Esyllt couldn’t think straight. All she knew was that she wanted to lie under this man, feel his hard heat over her, if just for a moment. She stood up on shaky legs and reached for a knife. Before she had time to wonder about the wisdom of her decision, she sliced the rope holding the squire captive.

Slowly, he brought his arms around and stretched, easing the pain in his muscles. When he stood in front of her, taller and stronger than she had imagined, Esyllt gulped. What had she done? She had freed a dangerous beast, that was what, one who would not be captured a second time.

Her heart started to beat loudly in her chest. What would he do now?

Had it all been a trick so she could free him? Would he now do as they’d agreed, or would he throw her over his shoulder, bring her to his master, and expose her plans to him? His loyalty was to Lord Sheridan, not her, and he did not need her to satisfy the desire she had so foolishly awoken. Anyone could do it. He could have her delivered to Lord Sheridan, then go in search of the first willing woman available and bed her instead. The inconvenience would be minimal, and the potential reward great.

“That’s better. Your men were none too gentle with me, no doubt because I’m English. Now, where were we?” he purred. “Ah, yes, the coupling.”

He swept her into his arms with breathtaking ease and placed her on the fur covers with more care than she had expected. Luck was with her, it seemed. He did not appear as if he would hand her over to his master. Perhaps he despised him and he was enjoying playing him for a fool. Perhaps he wanted her more than she had thought. Whatever the reason was, he seemed prepared to indulge her and go along with her plans.

“So you want Lord Sheridan to think you are a wanton. How far are you prepared to go?”

He knelt on the bed and started to tug at his clothes. Transfixed, Esyllt watched as he undressed, revealing his body bit by bit. The tight tunic was discarded, then the undershirt. Soon he was looming over her, bare-chested, and magnificent. The muscles on his stomach were rippling under a skin that looked smooth as silk. Esyllt could barely breathe.

Where had that man come from? Straight from her shameful fantasies, evidently. He exuded carnality, and raw masculine strength in a way no one she had ever met did.

After throwing his clothes to the floor, he came to lie over her, trapping her under his much larger body.

“You want to make it look like we are coupling, then?” he whispered in her ear.

She did. It was her only option, Esyllt told herself. She was in bed with this man to escape a marriage she did not desire, she had freed him from the ropes because she had no other choice, she was lying under him because it was the best way to make Lord Sheridan believe she was not a suitable bride and not because she wanted him.

A burst of heat exploded between her legs when he pressed his shaft against her mons. Though he was still wearing his braies and her own flesh was covered by her shift, she could feel how hard it was.

How was she going to stand it? Her body felt like melted wax already. If the door did not open soon, she might disgrace herself and beg this man to take her.

“You might want to open your legs for me, my lady,” he drawled, looking at her from under his lashes in the same manner as before. Evidently, he was all too aware of the effect this lethal look had on women. “At the moment it doesn’t look like much is happening.”

Oh but it was happening.

“Yes.” The word barely made it out. Somehow, the air had left her lungs.

He waited, holding his weight over her, until she parted her thighs. After what felt like an eternity, she did. He smiled, a devilish smile if ever she’d seen one.

“Do I have your permission to lift your shift?”

“Lift my?—”

“Men and women can couple while dressed, though it is a pity in my opinion, but one thing is for sure, nothing must come between their intimate flesh. I’m sure you’re aware of that, having already borne a daughter.”

She nodded, allowing him to do as he wished, knowing all the while it was a mistake. There was no need to go that far. Anyone walking into the room right now would be shocked by the sight meeting their eyes. She was lying in a bed under a near-naked man, with her legs spread open. There was no room for misinterpretation.

Slowly the man ran his hand up her calf, lifting the hem of her shift as he went. Dimly, Esyllt wondered why he thought it appropriate to stroke her thus. He could just have gathered the fabric up without making it feel like a caress.

No, it wasn’t like a caress, it was a caress. And her reaction to it was shocking.

A finger brushed the place between her legs and she almost swallowed her tongue when the pleasure of the touch made her buck upward.

“How much of a wanton do you want to be, my lady?” he purred. “You don’t even have to pretend. I could have you right here, right now.”

Esyllt’s mouth fell open because suddenly he was... there, poised at her most secret entrance, ready to slip in. When had he unlaced his braies? How had she not realized what he was doing? Her body didn’t care about the answers, it welcomed what her mind was struggling to comprehend. He gave the tiniest nudge, and it was all she could do not to arch her back and urge him inside.

“I...” She could not agree to such a shocking thing, could she? Pretend, that was all they were doing, that was all they needed to do. In a moment the guards would arrive with her betrothed and it would be over.

“It would be good for Lord Sheridan to hear you moan when he is brought up to your room. I could help to make it convincing... If you wanted me to, of course.” He gave a low, sensual chuckle. “I only ever consider bedding willing partners, but I don’t think that is an issue here, is it?”

Esyllt thought she was going to expire from the tension coursing in her body. The man ground his hips in scandalous invitation, but still he did not press inside of her. He was waiting for her to agree. Oh, Lord, where were the guards? If they did not arrive soon, she would not resist the need to wrap her legs around the squire’s waist and draw him in. She would beg him to plunge inside her and yes, she would moan.

“Surely there is no need to do anything else,” she managed to say, her voice little more than a croak. “Our position is already compromising enough. Lord Sheridan?—”

“No one is coming,” the man said in a persuasive whisper. “Let me give you what you deserve, my lady. You’re so wet, I can barely control myself. Your body wants me, I’m sure you can feel it. Just say yes.”

He had not stopped his teasing for a moment; her core was pulsing desperately, as if to draw the man’s hardness in. Could she give in? It was clear he was leaving the decision to her, and she wanted to agree.

“My men have been sent to get Lord Sheridan, they will soon?—”

“They will not find him. No one is coming,” he repeated. She shifted her hips, and the movement caused him to slide inside her just a fraction. She could not help a cry of relief at the sensation.

Oh, yes, more, she wanted more of that!

Esyllt stopped resisting and allowed him to push in another inch. Closing her eyes, she let her body take over. She was poised on the edge of something devastating, and suddenly, she wished no one would come to her room, not yet, at least. The idea that they would be interrupted before she could find out just how pleasurable having him make love to her could be was too dire to contemplate.

“How do you know they won’t find Lord Sheridan?” she asked, feeling him withdraw then slide back in, a little further. She bit her lip and he withdrew again, then plunged in all the way. Yes. Like that was perfect. Just one more thrust and she would...

Erupt.

That was what it felt like. Instinctively, she knew that was what was about to happen. She would erupt. And she was desperate for it.

“I know because I am Lord Sheridan, and I am currently not in my bed but in yours, coupling with you.”

He stilled, and she froze.

For a long moment Esyllt stared at him, this man who was buried to the hilt inside her. Her mind refused to accept what she had just heard. Her body was pulsing, poised on the edge of explosion and he was telling her that he had tricked her.

“You?” she said in a deathly whisper. “ You are Lord Sheridan?”

“Me.” He ground his hips against her and it was all Esyllt could do not to scream. That movement had almost been enough to make her erupt. “I am your future husband.”

All thoughts of pleasure fled her mind. “No!” she roared and bucked upward, trying to lift him off of her. Instantly, he flattened her onto her back, pinning her in place.

“Don’t even think about it, or I will tie you down with the rope you kindly provided me with.” He lowered his head so he could speak in her ear. “Listen to me, my lady. This marriage was decided by my king, it is not about my or your personal gratification, and it will go ahead, no matter what you say, no matter what you do, no matter how devious or debauched you are, no matter who you take to your bed beforehand or after.”

“I’m not debauched,” she protested. “I told you what I wanted to?—”

He stopped her with another thrust that made her body arch in supplication. “You wanted to show your groom how much of a wanton you were. Well, you have. Rest assured that I will not forget how readily you surrendered to a stranger’s advances, how you welcomed him inside your body.”

He slid back out, then in again. Esyllt could not stop a whimper from escaping her lips. She was so close, if he could only?—

“I could put an end to your misery now,” he drawled, reading her mind. “It wouldn’t take much, I don’t think. You are on the edge of surrender.”

His next thrust was excruciatingly slow, not enough to cause the friction she needed. Then the wretched man withdrew and stood up. As he fastened his braies, his honeyed voice kept playing in Esyllt’s mind.

Let me give you what you deserve.

Oh! Indeed. He’d not really wanted her; he had only exacted his revenge over her in the most humiliating way, by showing her that she could not resist him. This mad plan of hers had ended up in disaster.

She covered herself with the furs, fighting the urge to cry.

“Get some rest, my lady. You have a wedding to go to in the morning.”