Set to Flame (Flame Series) by Angie Arms Page A

feel his heat as he stood close to her and she wanted him to touch her.  She wanted it to be his hand she would feel for hours upon her breast.  It was his finger she wanted to feel diving into that deepest part of her.  Then she felt the cloak settle about her shoulders and she felt keen regret that this was the man who would have control. 
    Marcus rambled on about sums and holdings until she felt her head would spin.  Finally, seeming satisfied he gave her a number and feeling relieved she agreed to it and the deal was done.  Requesting time to sleep, Marcus lay down on one of the narrow cots and immediately began to snore lightly.  This left Alena alone to pace the tent quietly. 
    Her mind was so occupied with the task of bolstering herself for life with Garrick she did not hear the tent flap open until she turned and saw the man filling the doorway.  He was tall, but what she noticed most was the disarming smile that he bestowed upon her.  It sat crookedly giving her the strong urge to smile back as it crinkled the corners around his blue eyes.  His reddish brown hair looked quite tousled and that too made her want to smile back at this man. 
    ~   ~   ~
     
    Fool, she admonished herself.  The man cast a quick glance toward Marcus’s slumbering form before taking a couple steps closer to her while placing a finger upon his lips.  “I am Sir Roland Denwald,” the man whispered.  “Loyal knight to Lord Damien.  I served with he and Cyrille under Lord deMerle, King Henry and King Richard.”  The man was close, his blue eyes twinkling but as she stared into them she became further intrigued by their color.  The right was most definitely blue but the left was a mix between blue and green, had he not stood so close she would have never noticed the subtle differences.  “I am forever in your debt for caring for them.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered unsure what to say. 
    The crooked smile had left his face but now it returned as if he found her uncomfortable reply amusing.  “If I did not adore my wife as I do I would take you from Garrick.”
    “If you did not adore your wife you would be dead,” came the response from the cot where Marcus had apparently awakened. 
    “Be that as it may,” Roland said with a chuckle and an apologetic bow in Alena’s direction.  “I was stopping by to thank the beautiful Alena for her care of you men before I left with Damien on the morrow.”
    “ Aaaah,” Marcus growled though he did not move from his slumbering position.  “A fool’s errand.”
    “Lord Damien will not rest until he has extinguished all those who had a part in his brother’s death.”
    “But Sir Cyrille is not dead,” Alena argued.
    “I truly hope I am wrong.  Regardless of Cyrille’s outcome Damien is set on vengeance and I must go with him.  I bid you good evening my lady,” Roland said bending over and taking her limp hand in his and kissing the back of her knuckles before releasing her.  “Marcus, have a safe journey.”
    Marcus’s head rolled so he could look at his friend as he said, “you as well my brother.”
    The man turned and left, leaving her alone with Marcus once again.  He rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes.  She thought he must be asleep as she stood motionless in the quiet tent with the sounds of the army coming from outside.  She inwardly jumped when he asked, “Does it make you feel grand when men fall all over you?”
    She studied his prone figure for a moment.  “My looks make men wish to possess me.  They do not wish to love me or cherish me.  I would rather go about unnoticed than to attract that attention.”
    Silence fell again so when he spoke softly she nearly missed his words, “There are men who would love and cherish you with their dying breath.”
    “If only they were here,” Alena said raising her arms to encompass the camp.  She found herself irritated that Marcus kept questioning her choice in one subtle