Melissande caught her breath.“They are my villeins now.”
He arched a brow.“Will Tulley take your side in this, if I appeal to his court?”
“To what will they return?Ruined homes and empty larders, fields left fallow too long and no seed to plant?You must think beyond your own ambitions to their welfare.Thatis the task of a responsible baron.”
“I would ensure their welfare.”
“They would have to see it to believe as much of Jerome’s son.They are not fools, to be sure.”
Quinn folded his arms across his chest as he considered her, that slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Wretched man.She could not even think coherently when he looked at her thus.
She tingled.
“Perhaps I must ride to Annossy and make an appeal in your court, my lady.I wager you would like to see me kneel before you, as Lady of Annossy and source of justice there.”
The suggestion was surprisingly provocative and Melissande found herself at a loss for words.Quinn took another step closer, pressing his advantage, his gaze locked with hers.Melissande could not take a breath.She could feel his heat.She was snared by his intent gaze and she yearned for something she could not name.
Quinn could name it.Melissande would wager upon that.
“Do you mock the notion of me as judge?”she asked.“Or do you mock the notion of a woman as administrator?”She lifted her chin.“If so, I invite you to compare the state of Sayerne and Annossy, to see who fares better at this task.”
He raised a hand to her shoulder, resting its weight there as if he would draw her into his embrace.Melissande recognized the hunger within herself and knew that this would be war.They would battle for supremacy and, to her dismay, Quinn already had her body upon his side.She felt the shiver that rolled through her body, the heat that emanated from the weight of his hand upon her shoulder, and she knew that if he kissed her again, she would be lost.
She raised her hand to remove his.“We are not wed yet, sir,” she said with heat, knowing it was a feeble excuse.
He caught at her wrist and pulled her closer.“Nay, not yet,” he whispered, his voice so low and his tone so intimate that her knees were weakened.His gaze heated as he bent toward her and she felt a desire beyond what she had experienced before.Melissande was stretched to her toes, her breasts tantalizingly close to his chest.His proximity fanned the flames kindled by his earlier kiss, but Melissande would have died rather than confess this truth.
How could she be surprised that a barbarian knew best how to awaken her base urges?
Quinn bent and his lips were against her hair, his breath in her ear, and Melissande was shaken by the power of his touch.She averted her face in an attempt to hide her reaction, knowing it was only a matter of time before he had all he desired of her.
And then what?She would be discarded, like one of Jerome’s women, and left to fend for herself—without Annossy.
Her heart tore at the truth of it.
“Do not imagine, my lady, that you will compel me to defy Tulley,” Quinn whispered.There was steel in his tone and she heard the truth of his resolve.“I will not lose Sayerne.On this night, we must make our match and we must consummate it, by Tulley’s command.It need not be an ordeal, though you can make it so.”
Melissande twisted away from his whisper but glanced up.She was trapped then by the determination in his eyes.Despite herself, she recalled the brush of his lips over hers.Would he be gentle with her?Or did he seek only to disarm her?Her blood simmered, as if she was no better than a harlot.
“Scoundrel,” she whispered, hating how readily he fed such urges within her.“You care for only your own ends.I can see clearly that you are your father’s son.”
Quinn’s eyes flashed like lightning, but his grip did not tighten and his voice did not rise.Again, she glimpsed the power of his restraint and had to admire it.“My sire and I had naught in common,” he insisted.“You, my lady, will be the first to learn the truth of that.”Their gazes held for a long moment and Melissande knew she had engaged an opponent who would not readily retreat.
His gaze dropped to her mouth.He smiled that slow smile again, the one that undermined her belief in all she knew to be true, and she could scarce draw a breath.
“Perhaps we should seal our pledge anew,” he suggested, a rogue to his marrow.The mischievous glint in his eyes was so beguiling that Melissande did not move away in time.
Then Quinn bent and his mouth slanted across hers.
His kiss was firm, his lips coaxing, the strength of his hand on the back of her waist before she guessed what he was about.He did not claim, he did not possess: he invited, and that so astonished her that Melissande did not even consider making a protest.
Indeed, she surrendered and it was bliss.Quinn’s kiss was gentle and intimate, yet tempting all the same.It hinted of greater pleasures to come and made her heart race.He smelled of sun and leather and horses, but beneath it all was the heady scent of his own skin.He made a sound of surrender that pleased her greatly, then locked his arm around her waist, drawing her to her toes.Her breasts were crushed against his chest and his mouth opened, claiming her more boldly.
Nay, he feasted upon her, coaxing her response, and she let him.
Melissande was overwhelmed and awed—and more desirous of his touch than she could have believed possible.She guessed that this was not the first time for Quinn to kiss like this, that he knew she was innocent in such matters and tempered his own desire for her, but that awareness still did not check her response.
