Everlasting Enchantment by Kathryne Kennedy Page A

deep red, and paintings even more graphic than the ones in the castle hall littered the room. It looked like a parlor, although it lacked the normal tables and chairs that made visiting possible. Instead, it boasted a thick rug surrounded by pillows in front of the hearth, and a multitude of armless sofas and fainting couches.
    “Bloody hell,” said Millicent.
    Selena grimaced. “Too bad all this splendor will go to waste. Tug the bellpull if you manage to remove the bracelet. I want first dibs on his knightliness, here.” She gave Gareth one last lingering look before she left, the stone door grinding to a close behind her.
    Millicent crossed the room, stepping over plush carpets and enormous Indian pillows, and looked out the narrow window. This side of the castle faced a craggy ravine, small waterfalls erupting out of the stone to plunge into the depths below. The fairylights on the cavern ceiling hardly penetrated this shadowy side of the fortress and she couldn’t tell if the walls provided any handholds.
    She spun. Gareth studied a painting, nearly cocking his head upside down to make out some detail in it. Millicent inspected their prison. She found a door that led into a windowless washroom, and another leading into a bedroom—which didn’t have any way of escape either. She stood at the threshold and crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at the enormous canopy bed with its blood-red satin coverlet, the mirror-paneled walls and ceiling.
    There had to be another way to remove the relic. She turned and faced Gareth. “Surely you couldn’t have seduced every woman who wore the bracelet.”
    “True,” he replied, still intent on those scandalous paintings. “A few times the relic chose grandmotherly ladies who viewed me as a son. I stayed with them for years, until the relic loosened when they died.” He straightened, smoothing back the blond curls from his face. Again he wore that veil of sadness that somehow twisted her heart. “There were several women who didn’t prefer men in their beds. I changed their minds or stayed with them until they died. Is that why you don’t wish to bed me?”
    Millicent’s arms fell to her sides. “Certainly not. Of course I want—that is, I like men. I just don’t prefer to take one to my bed.” She kicked a pillow that sat near the door, the small bells around its seam jangling with the movement.
    Gareth smiled at her words. It lit up his face and made her knees go weak. His blue eyes met her own amber gaze and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “So you finally admit you want me. Why, then, do you fight it so?”
    Drat, the man could drag the secrets out of a mountebank. He spoke as smoothly as he moved. “That’s none of your concern. Now, are you telling me there are only two ways the relic will come off? Sex or death?”
    “If I knew of any other, I would tell you.”
    She believed him. He was a true knight of the Round Table, full of honor and chivalry and truth. It wasn’t just his sensual handsomeness that attracted her. Millicent yearned for that goodness within him. She wanted to surround herself with that light that shone like a beacon in her dark world. She wanted to take it inside her and somehow make it a part of her too.
    She swayed toward him.
    He reached out, started to close the distance between them.
    Millicent held up her arm. “Don’t. Don’t come any closer.” She wanted an impossible dream and she’d best snap out of it, so she could deal with the reality of her life. Her dark soul would probably snuff out that goodness within him as easily as she put out a candle.
    “Millicent.” His voice caressed her name.
    Her traitorous human body swayed toward him again. Millicent quickly shifted to panther. The hair on her back stood up in a line of warning. She snarled and bared her teeth, swishing her tail in fury. Any other man would have trembled with fear, but Sir Gareth just looked puzzled. He watched her pace the room, a caged