Love's Blazing Ecstasy Read Free Page B

spot which was very precious to her, her childhood hideaway.
    “Minerva….Minerva…so beautiful.” The stranger moaned in his language. She reached out to soothe his brow, thankful that there appeared to be no fever. She wondered what he had been forced to drink. Most likely belladonna made from the nightshade plant. It was often used by those who practiced the dark arts. It was even said that the evil ones could fly when it was rubbed on them as an ointment. Why had he been forced to partake of their drink? What part did it hold in their ceremony?
    Suddenly t he dark-haired man’s eyes flew open as Wynne gazed upon him and she was surprised by the color of his eyes. They were not blue, not green, nor gray, but almost golden in their hue, an amber brown.
    “You’re here…Minerva,” he breathed. He reached out his large hand and captured a few strands of her hair. “I never dreamed that I would ever be able to touch a goddess.”
    His eyes raked over her. She was tall, but of course a goddess would be. Her hair framed her oval face and tumbled down around her shoulders, ending far below her waist. Her face was beautiful, with a straight, perfectly sculptured nose, firm chin, large blue eyes surrounded by thick brown lashes, and full sensuous lips. His eyes took in all or her—the full firm breasts, long legs, small waist, well-rounded hips. She was perfect. Even the shapeless blue gown that she wore could not hide that fact.
    “You are beautiful!” he exclaimed, longing to feel her body next to his own. Was it the potion working as an aphrodisiac or her striking looks that were sparking his desires?
    He remembered stories from the days of old which told of goddesses who loved mortal men and mated with them. He knew at that moment that above all else this was his desire, that Minerva would love him. He reached out to touch her, gently taking her arm and pulling her to ward him. She smelled of violets and early-morning air.
    His eyes caressed hers. “I want to feel your lips against mine,” he breathed as his strong arm encircled her waist, pressing her close against him. His lips brushed against hers, light as the stroke of a butterfly’s wing. Then he kissed her again, this time his mouth devouring the honey of her lips.
    Wynne opened her eyes wide with astonishment. What was this touching of mouths? It was not a custom of the Celts. His lips had captured hers so suddenly, but she liked the feel of his mouth on hers. Closing her eyes, she accepted the gentle pressure, the exploration of his lips and tongue. A spark went through her veins but she was not sure how to react, what to do, but when his lips parted once more she mimicked the caress of his mouth upon hers and gently moved her lips on his. He groaned and tightened his arms around her until she could scarcely breathe.
    The warm sweetness of her kisses kindled his desire. Forgotten now was all else but her nearness. The fragrance of her skin and hair tantalized him, the softness of her skin and hair enchanted him. He reached out his hand to touch her hips, moving upward to cup the fullness of her breast, his hand stroking the taut peak in a lingering touch.
    Wynne froze, the spell broken, and moved away from him as if she had been burned. She trembled at the unexpected fire which had coursed through her body at the touch of this stranger. She was fearful of his power over her and confused by the reaction she’d had to his touch. He wasn’t one of her own kind.  She had to remember that he was a Roman.
    The dark-haired man was surprised at her actions, at the shocked look on her face, the fear written across her perfect features. Wasn’t it natural, after all, for a man to desire a beautiful woman, goddess or mortal? Why, she acted almost like an innocent or a virgin. So it was true, then, what was said of Minerva, that s he was untouched and pure. The Roman was suddenly afraid that he had offended her. Would she strike him down in anger for his