Isolde's Wish Read Free Page A

gown, her soft, unrestricted breasts had jumped into his hands.
    “I’m sorry to have offended ye,” he said, catching up to her. He darted in front of her and ducked to peer into her eyes. They flashed with something other than annoyance, filling Sadler with a strong impulse to kiss her again. “What would ye be called?”
    Her mouth pursed as if she struggled not to smile. She gave him a look from beneath her thick, pale lashes that raised steam from his flesh. “I would be called Isolde, sir.”
    “And I’m Sadler, not sir. Just Sadler.”
    “Sadler, son of Corbet,” she said, reminding him of the hopelessness of the situation.
    “That’s right.” He dropped into step behind her. The woods filled with birdsong and the sounds of small animals scurrying underfoot. He watched her high-step through the tall brush, admiring the feminine turn of the wrist that supported her heavy skirts. With every step, the pale pink flesh of her shapely calves winked at him.
    A torrent of need slithered through him. What had possessed Princess Isolde of Weligbyr to allow him to drop a single kiss to her sweet lips, let alone ravage her mouth, throat, and luscious breasts?
    He jerked to a halt. A long moment passed while he stared blankly at the green canopy above, his mind awhirl. King Adlard, her father, was presently in the castle, and they would arrive there shortly. Sadler’s opportunity to achieve his goal had presented itself in a lovely little golden princess package, all tied up with strings leading directly to the king—the chance he’d waited for.
    “Isolde.” He thrashed through the brush to reach her.
    She paused to let him catch up. “What is it?”
    He closed his fingers about her wrist. The fragile bones beneath the flesh felt as delicate as a bird’s. But rather than take flight, she swayed toward him. And then she was in his arms, her plump breasts crushed to his chest, her feet slipping from her shoes as he pulled her against him, and her mouth opening to admit his tongue.
    Sadler pressed his thumb into the hollow at her nape, his fingers tangling in the golden threads of hair, caressing her warm scalp. He felt a thrill that her hair was unbound, loved that it fell in a heavy sheet over his forearm. He never wished to see it confined by a proper maid’s coronet of braids. Loose and free best suited Princess Isolde.
    She rubbed her tender body against him as he cupped her buttocks and jerked her hips into the shelter of his own. They nestled together perfectly. Again and again he plunged his tongue into her sweet mouth, tasting the hot interior, fighting to get closer, seeking more heat.
    Breaking away, he gasped for control. The heat he needed he could not taste. Not ever.
    He stared down into her eyes, as brilliant as the jewels glittering on her fingers. A haze of passion lived within those eyes, and he’d only had a glimpse of the passion that lived within the body. He realized she clung to him and gently released her.
    He put some distance between them. “My lady,” he whispered, bowing his head.
    Her palm cracked off his cheek with stunning force. He rocked backward.
    “What the hell was that for?”
    “For…for yer humility. How dare ye?” she spit. He caught her hand as she aimed for another strike. Her muscle trembled to be freed.
    “If ye know what’s good for ye, woman,” he said through clenched teeth, “ye won’t try that again.”
    She screamed through her tight jaw and twisted her wrist in his iron grasp. “Let me go. Ye cannot restrain me this way.”
    Suddenly she brushed against his arousal. She grew utterly still before crumpling inward and sagging into his hold.
    “Isolde, Isolde, help me understand.” He stroked the damp tendrils of hair from her eyes.
    Her chest worked with her anger and against her tears. “I ask that ye don’t treat me like a princess. Ye cannot deliver the kiss of a man and then bow yer head like a subject. My mind cannot keep up with