Seduced by Grace Read Free Page B

things, but I never heard that you make a habit of abducting females.”
    “Nay. I am selective in those I snatch away to my encampment,” he drawled while enjoying the way her breasts rose and fell under her cloak with every breath she took, brushing his arms that enwrapped her.
    “If it’s ransom you require, you should know that I am a ward of the king. He will pay if I am returned unharmed.”
    It was a valiant effort, that suggestion. Too bad it was for naught. “You are certain?” he inquired with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I’d heard Henry VII was a close man with his coin.”
    “He has affection for my sisters, also a certain obligation to our family from deeds useful to him in the past. He could be generous because of it.”
    “Or not, as he has already been put to the expense of a dowry for you. Or did Lord Halliwell pay him for the great advantage of getting his hands on both you and your portion of your father’s estate?”
    She was still for a long moment. “You know an uncommon lot about my affairs for one last heard of in France.”
    “It is a subject of some interest.” The irony of that observation invaded his voice in spite of his guard against it.
    “And why would that be? Have you gained all you desire except…except for a wife of wealth and good family?” A tremor shook her though she stilled it at once. “Is your purpose to force a marriage between us?”
    “An interesting idea,” he conceded as he allowed his hand that pressed her abdomen to slip to her lower belly, just above the apex of her thighs. “How would you feel about it?”
    She slapped a hand against his wrist, preventing him from pressing into the soft, warm depression he had discovered. “How do you imagine I would feel?”
    “Gratified?”
    “I despised the thought of marriage to a peer seen only once or twice in my life. Think you being tied to some strange knight would be more to my taste?”
    “You might find it so,” he murmured close to her ear. Heat mounted to his head, burning under the metal of his helm, while the drawing sensation in his groin brought a stabbing pain worse than a battle wound. The fluttering of her belly muscles under his hand was sointriguing he cursed his gauntlet that prevented fuller appreciation.
    “Never!”
    “Ah, well. ’Tis a prospect you need not face as marriage is not my aim.”
    She swallowed, for he heard it plainly above the dull thunder of his heartbeat in his ears. “Then…”
    It was time to end this, for the torment was not restricted to the lady in his arms. He made no answer, but shifted her forward to gain room. Swinging from the saddle, he eased her down and set her on her feet. He did not release her, but drew her with him toward the cottage door.
    It opened as they neared it, spilling light out upon the leaf-strewn path they trod. A short figure stepped beneath the lintel, one that came nowhere near filling the low doorway. The lantern light behind her showed a miniature veil over fair hair that trailed near to the ground behind her, a tiny gown with a skirt scarce longer than a child’s, short, well-formed arms and hands, yet the face and torso of a woman full grown.
    “Lady Marguerite, at last!” the dwarfed lady exclaimed as she tottered toward them. “What joy to see you safely brought here! Aye, and that no harm has come to the gallant knight who rode to your rescue!”
    “Astrid…”
    The name was a whisper as the lady at his side stumbled to a halt, dragging against his hold. The color in her face drained away then surged up again with flame-kissed redness. Slowly, she turned to face him, spoke in stunned accents. “You have Astrid. She is here, here with you.”
    “As you see.” Her amazement should have pleased him. Instead, it was near unbearable.
    “Who are you, sir? Who are you in truth?”
    He closed his eyes an instant, oddly reluctant to satisfy that question. Still, it could be delayed no longer. Releasing Lady Marguerite, he