A Knight's Persuasion by Catherine Kean

tsked and rolled her eyes. “May luck be with you.”
    He tried to ignore a pinch of misgiving. “Why do you say that?”
    “She cannot bear to even hear your name. Did you realize she was so upset after what happened at Sherstowe, she left?” Sympathy crept into Nara’s stare. “I doubt she will ever forgive you for pushing her into the well.”
    “ You caused that to happen.”
    Nara smiled. “Me, milord?”
    “Aye.” He forced enough menace into the word that her eyes widened. “You kicked my foot. You made me fall against Juliana, and that caused her to go into the well.”
    With a careless shrug, Nara said, “An accident.”
    “Nay.” Emotions of that day simmered again inside Edouard. “That act was deliberate. You could have killed Juliana.”
    “Mayhap.” Nara’s hand slowly slipped down her throat, drawing his attention to the plumpness of her bosom enhanced by tight silk. “But all turned out well. Except for our dance.”
    He dragged his gaze from her enticing breasts, but not before she saw. She grinned, caught her lip between her teeth, and closed the gap between them.
    “Nara.” Cursing the way his blood heated with interest, he scrambled sideways along the wall, his clumsy legs slow to follow.
    Her arms slid around his neck. Pressing her supple body against him, she cooed, “Kiss me, Edouard. The way you were going to kiss Juliana by the well.”
    His drunken body responded to her enticing feminine scent; his loins stirred from her breathy plea. What are you doing? his mind cried. Shove her away, or you are doomed .
    “Stop, Nara.” His voice emerged a rasp.
    Her lips brushed his chin. “I am the one you want. I will make you forget my sister.”
    Edouard shuddered as her fingers caressed the hairs at his nape. He didn’t want to forget Juliana. He needed to go inside, to speak with her . . .
    Ah, God, he had to make Nara cease.
    “Nay,” he said. Hands on her waist, he began to push her away.
    Her hot, wet, hungry mouth crushed to his.
    ***
    “Come on.” Her eyes bright with excitement, Mayda snatched up Juliana’s hand and pulled her through the noisy crowd toward the forebuilding.
    “Mayda, wait!” Juliana dug in her heels, but her new shoes, bought to go with her gown for the wedding celebration, skidded on the freshly-strewn rushes and herbs on the floorboards. With a helpless squawk, she stumbled along after her friend.
    Mayda whirled around, her finest silk gown, chosen to be her wedding dress, floating about her slender figure. Leaning in close, she murmured, “Do not be silly and protest, Juliana. We both saw Edouard go into the forebuilding. ’Tis the perfect chance for you to find and speak with him, now he is no longer amongst his friends.”
    Giddy anticipation swirled up inside Juliana. She did want to speak with him, but what was she going to say? What if he was still annoyed and didn’t wish to speak with her? Terror rushed up in a daunting wave. “I do not think . . .”
    Mayda narrowed her eyes. With a firm hold, she drew Juliana away from the singing, clapping throng to a quieter section of the hall. “You have been miserable every day since the incident at Sherstowe,” she said, not letting go of Juliana’s hand. “You know ’tis long overdue for you two to reconcile.”
    “True, but . . .”
    Mayda huffed. “Still, you protest. How many times have you told me of that kiss he almost bestowed upon you? The way he admired your beauty?” Her eyes shone with her impassioned words. “Are you not curious to know if he wants to kiss you again? If the feelings you hold for him are still worth cherishing?”
    “Mayda,” Juliana said softly. “He wooed me to win the bet. I do not know if he truly cared for me.”
    Mayda squeezed Juliana’s fingers. “What man could not care for you?”
    Tears pricked Juliana’s eyes.
    With the swish of silk, Mayda hugged Juliana. “I want you to be happy,” she whispered. “I want you to have a husband as charming