outcome?”
She’d been so intent on helping others, she hadn’t considered the aftermath of failure. “If your intent is to dissuade me from healing—”
“I want you to understand the possible consequences of your actions. As a wealthy woman, you have much to lose to the inquisitors. All they need is a reason to confiscate what you own in the name of saving a sinner. Rumor says many innocents face accusation so the inquisitors can enrich themselves. Powerful men have gotten rid of their wives by claiming those women were witches. Nobles can easily dispose of rivals with false allegations. If the tribunal succeeded in accusing you, men would search every part of your body for witch marks and perhaps rape you in the process. Even if you lived through such horrors, death by strangulation or burning alive at the stake would be next. For what? To practice your healing?”
“To save others. Am I to live my life in fear or do what I must? If an enemy were to come to Spain and threaten her, what would you do? Flee to save your life or fight to spare others?”
He sighed. “The situations are hardly the same.”
“They are precisely the same and you know it.”
He lifted his face to the sky. The ridge in his throat bobbed with his hard swallow. “You and Isabella…”
“Me and Isabella what?”
He looked at her. “Never have I met women like you.”
She inclined her head slightly to concede his point. “Now you understand why I said you must find another more in accord with your needs.”
“I want no one but you.”
“Enrique.”
He’d cupped her face, his thumb skimming her bottom lip. Her mouth tingled. Her breath spilled out on a wanting sigh at the tenderness and desire in his expression.
He reined in his gelding and lowered his mouth to hers.
She couldn’t fight him. Didn’t want to. The night was perfect for love, their attraction too intense, his kiss soft and searching at first then filled with raw male need, his tongue slipping into her mouth.
Sancha sagged against him, suckling his tongue as though she’d been born for the task, loving his clean flavor, his strong caress.
With the reins in one hand, he eased his other beneath her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin, hand cupping her naked breast.
She should have pulled away, told him to stop. Trembling with unbearable need, she opened her mouth even more to his tongue, inviting him to invade her deeply, intoxicated by his scent and strength.
Emboldened by her willing surrender, he dragged his thumb over her nipple, making the tip even harder. She ached for him in a way she couldn’t deny. All her life others had told her how sinful lust was. For her to avoid it at all cost. A woman’s purity was worth more than love. Passion could fade in a moment. Chastity alone proved a female’s honor the same as valor did with a man.
She’d never doubted those truths, having rarely thought of them until now.
Within Enrique’s embrace, she was complete for the first time, even though they had no future. Somehow, this moment and a few others seemed enough. On some level, she knew her sentiments were wrong. A better woman would fight for what was right, denying herself and him.
She gripped Enrique’s thigh, not wanting him to stop. Her touch seemed to excite him even more. He tore his mouth free and lifted her shirt, exposing her breasts to the ebbing moon and night air. The cool breeze skipped lightly against her feverish skin. His mouth was hot and damp on her throat. After he’d kissed her thoroughly there, he leaned over, straining to latch onto her nipple. Sancha faced him as much as she could, unable to deny what they both craved.
He claimed her breast, running his tongue over her areola and tip, suckling each.
The folds between her legs grew damp with obsessive need. All she could think about was lying with him, his chest nestled against her breasts, shaft buried deep within her belly, skin touching, breaths mingling.
She cupped the
She’d been so intent on helping others, she hadn’t considered the aftermath of failure. “If your intent is to dissuade me from healing—”
“I want you to understand the possible consequences of your actions. As a wealthy woman, you have much to lose to the inquisitors. All they need is a reason to confiscate what you own in the name of saving a sinner. Rumor says many innocents face accusation so the inquisitors can enrich themselves. Powerful men have gotten rid of their wives by claiming those women were witches. Nobles can easily dispose of rivals with false allegations. If the tribunal succeeded in accusing you, men would search every part of your body for witch marks and perhaps rape you in the process. Even if you lived through such horrors, death by strangulation or burning alive at the stake would be next. For what? To practice your healing?”
“To save others. Am I to live my life in fear or do what I must? If an enemy were to come to Spain and threaten her, what would you do? Flee to save your life or fight to spare others?”
He sighed. “The situations are hardly the same.”
“They are precisely the same and you know it.”
He lifted his face to the sky. The ridge in his throat bobbed with his hard swallow. “You and Isabella…”
“Me and Isabella what?”
He looked at her. “Never have I met women like you.”
She inclined her head slightly to concede his point. “Now you understand why I said you must find another more in accord with your needs.”
“I want no one but you.”
“Enrique.”
He’d cupped her face, his thumb skimming her bottom lip. Her mouth tingled. Her breath spilled out on a wanting sigh at the tenderness and desire in his expression.
He reined in his gelding and lowered his mouth to hers.
She couldn’t fight him. Didn’t want to. The night was perfect for love, their attraction too intense, his kiss soft and searching at first then filled with raw male need, his tongue slipping into her mouth.
Sancha sagged against him, suckling his tongue as though she’d been born for the task, loving his clean flavor, his strong caress.
With the reins in one hand, he eased his other beneath her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin, hand cupping her naked breast.
She should have pulled away, told him to stop. Trembling with unbearable need, she opened her mouth even more to his tongue, inviting him to invade her deeply, intoxicated by his scent and strength.
Emboldened by her willing surrender, he dragged his thumb over her nipple, making the tip even harder. She ached for him in a way she couldn’t deny. All her life others had told her how sinful lust was. For her to avoid it at all cost. A woman’s purity was worth more than love. Passion could fade in a moment. Chastity alone proved a female’s honor the same as valor did with a man.
She’d never doubted those truths, having rarely thought of them until now.
Within Enrique’s embrace, she was complete for the first time, even though they had no future. Somehow, this moment and a few others seemed enough. On some level, she knew her sentiments were wrong. A better woman would fight for what was right, denying herself and him.
She gripped Enrique’s thigh, not wanting him to stop. Her touch seemed to excite him even more. He tore his mouth free and lifted her shirt, exposing her breasts to the ebbing moon and night air. The cool breeze skipped lightly against her feverish skin. His mouth was hot and damp on her throat. After he’d kissed her thoroughly there, he leaned over, straining to latch onto her nipple. Sancha faced him as much as she could, unable to deny what they both craved.
He claimed her breast, running his tongue over her areola and tip, suckling each.
The folds between her legs grew damp with obsessive need. All she could think about was lying with him, his chest nestled against her breasts, shaft buried deep within her belly, skin touching, breaths mingling.
She cupped the
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