Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 02] Read Free Page A

treacherous heart. So cursed hard to keep her thighs utterly still when they ached to wrap around this barbarian’s hips and crush him into her hungering embrace.
    Silence, as if he contemplated her words. “Traders.” He paused, raked his eyes over her face, and she held her breath, willing her pulses to slow, but if anything, they hammered more rapidly than before. Then he glanced above her head, at the exquisitely crafted gold bracelets that adorned her wrists. She hoped he had no idea of their true value. No trader could afford to wear such riches. Why had she insisted on wearing them? “From where?”
    She flexed numb fingers around her dagger, then gripped it more securely when she felt his hold upon her wrist momentarily lighten. Her limbs were deadening but if he gave her the slenderest of opportunities, she wouldn’t hesitate to slash open his throat.
    “Why? So you can send your band of Gallic mercenaries to slaughter more innocents?”
    “No. So I can verify your words.”
    If she directed him to a nearby village, would he truly spend time discovering if she spoke the truth or not? She doubted it. He was delivering dispatches for the military. He’d told the filthy dogs who’d ambushed her he intended to use her to warm his bed during the journey.
    And he was alone. No, he wouldn’t waste time verifying her word when her word was of no account, when all he saw when he looked at her was a woman he could use for sexual satisfaction.
    “Two days’ ride west. I’ll tell you no more than that.”
    His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her. “And where were you heading?”
    Her gaze didn’t waver. “To the new Roman fortification. The civilian settlement is always hungry for our goods.”
    From somewhere deeper in the forest a wood warbler’s shivering song shattered the taut silence. Before she realized his intention his forearm pinned hers securely to the ground, bringing the length of his body against hers. Heavy, masculine. How long had it been since she’d been crushed beneath a man, since she’d been held, touched, wanted ?
    The grip around her wrist increased beyond endurance but still she held on, despite the stabbing pains, despite the way her vision flickered. He’d have to kill her before she relinquished the only weapon she possessed.
    With his free hand he prized her deadened fingers from the hilt of her dagger and she could do nothing to stop him. His body enslaved her from ankles to thighs, hips to breasts, and now that he gripped her dagger, he released her throbbing wrist.
    She panted into his dark, foreign face. A face that wasn’t Roman, but beneath his helmet he had the hated Roman military hair. Short, stark. Nothing to grip in lust or fury.
    “What are you waiting for?” She flung the words at him in her own language. “Fuck me and have done with it.”
    And she wouldn’t embrace him. Wouldn’t wrap her legs around him. Wouldn’t succumb to the despicable need spiraling through her blood; the need to have a man in her arms, a man inside her body.
    Rape was abhorrent to her people. To their gods. And especially to the Morrigan. She’d endure his assault because there was nothing else she could do, but it would mean nothing. It wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t break her.
    And by the sacred blood of all her ancestors, she’d find a way to slaughter him afterward.
    For a long moment their eyes clashed. His cock seared her, hard and solid and demanding despite the barrier of his tunic and her ruined gown. Heat ignited; muscles clenched; her flesh trembled for satisfaction.
    He raised himself onto his hands, his groin still melded with hers. Tempting her with the savage delight he could offer.
    No . Sex with the enemy could never be a delight. She tried to fist her fingers but they were still numb, still uncoordinated. She glared at him instead, daring him to comment on the way her body softened beneath his in blatant invitation.
    A smile twisted his lips. As if he knew