My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) by Leigh Bale
Authors: Leigh Bale
Tags: Scottish, medieval romance
Ads: Link
her breathing deepened as she slept, praise the saints. Though his presence troubled her, Nicholas wished for her to rest, so she could withstand the hard ride still ahead of them. Soon, he must awaken her and they would continue their journey to Sutcliffe.
His new home.
Lifting his head, he looked down upon her sleeping profile outlined with moonbeams. Her porcelain skin gleamed like alabaster, her soft lips parted. He remembered the taste of her and wanted more, craving that which he’d denied himself for so long. The thought that this was his woman was almost his undoing. All they needed were a few vows spoken before a priest and she would be his.
First, he must deal with her anger. He was smart enough to know he must court and woo her. But how did one seduce a lady into becoming his wife willingly? A brutal man of war such as him had never learned such things. Perhaps Alex might tell him what to do.
Certainly not without laughing.
With a deep sigh, Nicholas relaxed, snuggling the sleeping form closer, thinking how good she felt against him.
As he rested his body and mind, he silently cursed the English king for forcing him and Ysabelle to become enemies.
Chapter Four
The following morning, Ysabelle helped Nicholas shake out the blankets and fold them into neat piles for him to bundle in his saddle packs. The other men prepared their mounts as the night watchmen returned to camp. Stretching her aching body, Ysabelle yawned. They must have rested no more than an hour. Brushing off her cloak, she stepped toward the bushes and yelped when her heel came down on a sharp stone.
Without a word, Nicholas swept her into his arms and carried her back to the grassy hill. Her spine stiffened. She hated being at his whim but had little choice. When he placed her on her feet, she ducked into the bushes, breathing deeply of the damp, loamy soil.
Again, he waited while she washed in the stream, calling to her often. If she refused to answer, he would doubtless come charging after her. Without shoes, she could never outrun him. She’d always been active, racing against boys who lived on her father’s lands. But Nicholas Ramsay was no stripling lad. A man in his prime, he would undoubtedly overtake her. She would bide her time for now and discover another way to outwit him.
The Ram’s men watched her every move as she passed by them. No doubt Lord Ramsay had warned them to keep an eye on her. He never seemed to let down his guard.
When she returned to his side, his gaze rested on her like a dead weight. As he reached up and brushed several strands of hair away from her damp cheeks, she drew back, remembering his kisses. He seemed not to notice as he stepped nearer and pulled the cloak tighter about her throat. It was a territorial gesture that unnerved her. As though he owned her. But she would show him differently.
She jutted her chin. “Don’t touch me.”
In response, he lowered his head and grazed her lips with his own. It was a sudden kiss, startling in its softness. He smelled of grass and horse, the combination strangely male and exotic. “Are you not the least bit curious?”
“Of course not,” she lied.
His gleaming eyes mesmerized her. Stepping back, she stared up at him, beguiled by his handsome profile. He had gained an advantage, not by force, but by her own free will. She mustn’t forget the price if she should weaken her resolve to remain aloof. What Alex had told her must not sway her feelings for the Scots Ram.
“It’s a pity,” he said.
He smiled and she knew he was toying with her. She would not allow him to win her with kindness. “I wish to return to camp, now.”
Without a word, he lifted and carried her, setting her before the cold fire while he watered his horse. Two guards stayed near by.
Soon, he returned with more of the same fare she’d eaten the night before and also two short strands of leather. At her questioning look, he indicated her wayward curls.
“For your
His new home.
Lifting his head, he looked down upon her sleeping profile outlined with moonbeams. Her porcelain skin gleamed like alabaster, her soft lips parted. He remembered the taste of her and wanted more, craving that which he’d denied himself for so long. The thought that this was his woman was almost his undoing. All they needed were a few vows spoken before a priest and she would be his.
First, he must deal with her anger. He was smart enough to know he must court and woo her. But how did one seduce a lady into becoming his wife willingly? A brutal man of war such as him had never learned such things. Perhaps Alex might tell him what to do.
Certainly not without laughing.
With a deep sigh, Nicholas relaxed, snuggling the sleeping form closer, thinking how good she felt against him.
As he rested his body and mind, he silently cursed the English king for forcing him and Ysabelle to become enemies.
Chapter Four
The following morning, Ysabelle helped Nicholas shake out the blankets and fold them into neat piles for him to bundle in his saddle packs. The other men prepared their mounts as the night watchmen returned to camp. Stretching her aching body, Ysabelle yawned. They must have rested no more than an hour. Brushing off her cloak, she stepped toward the bushes and yelped when her heel came down on a sharp stone.
Without a word, Nicholas swept her into his arms and carried her back to the grassy hill. Her spine stiffened. She hated being at his whim but had little choice. When he placed her on her feet, she ducked into the bushes, breathing deeply of the damp, loamy soil.
Again, he waited while she washed in the stream, calling to her often. If she refused to answer, he would doubtless come charging after her. Without shoes, she could never outrun him. She’d always been active, racing against boys who lived on her father’s lands. But Nicholas Ramsay was no stripling lad. A man in his prime, he would undoubtedly overtake her. She would bide her time for now and discover another way to outwit him.
The Ram’s men watched her every move as she passed by them. No doubt Lord Ramsay had warned them to keep an eye on her. He never seemed to let down his guard.
When she returned to his side, his gaze rested on her like a dead weight. As he reached up and brushed several strands of hair away from her damp cheeks, she drew back, remembering his kisses. He seemed not to notice as he stepped nearer and pulled the cloak tighter about her throat. It was a territorial gesture that unnerved her. As though he owned her. But she would show him differently.
She jutted her chin. “Don’t touch me.”
In response, he lowered his head and grazed her lips with his own. It was a sudden kiss, startling in its softness. He smelled of grass and horse, the combination strangely male and exotic. “Are you not the least bit curious?”
“Of course not,” she lied.
His gleaming eyes mesmerized her. Stepping back, she stared up at him, beguiled by his handsome profile. He had gained an advantage, not by force, but by her own free will. She mustn’t forget the price if she should weaken her resolve to remain aloof. What Alex had told her must not sway her feelings for the Scots Ram.
“It’s a pity,” he said.
He smiled and she knew he was toying with her. She would not allow him to win her with kindness. “I wish to return to camp, now.”
Without a word, he lifted and carried her, setting her before the cold fire while he watered his horse. Two guards stayed near by.
Soon, he returned with more of the same fare she’d eaten the night before and also two short strands of leather. At her questioning look, he indicated her wayward curls.
“For your
Similar Books
