She Owns the Knight by Diane Darcy Page A

shots of mahogany and gold in the sunlight, his tanned face hard and unyielding. He still wore chain, armor, and sword, and his loose tunic sported a coat of arms in red and green, depicting a black bird of prey, claws extended.
    As she was feeling slightly hunted at the moment, his crest seemed appropriate.
    His men stopped, but Kellen, eyes intelligent, perceptive, and without an ounce of guile, maneuvered his horse around the rock, never taking his gaze from hers.
    Her own gaze dropped when he moved behind her, until finally he finished rounding the rock and stopped in front of her. He instructed one of his men to search the other rocks.
    “What do you do here?”
    Slowly she raised her head and met his dark gaze again. She shivered. A real, live, medieval warrior, and he was looking at her as if he owned her, as if she were his possession. His amber eyes took in every part of her, making the blood rush back into her face. A medieval warrior who believed she belonged to him and who believed he had the right to establish and then claim her virginity.
    Gillian swallowed, then pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. Breathless, and still even a bit dizzy, she thought it was a good thing she was sitting. She tried a smile. “Sightseeing?”
    He didn’t smile in return. “Sightseeing?”
    Gillian nodded. “Yes. I enjoy sightseeing. I saw these rocks from the top of the castle and wanted a closer look.”
    Kellen glanced around. “You were not meeting with anyone in this place?”
    Her brows rose. Was that why he’d rounded the rock? Why his man was, even now, searching around the others? Was he looking for someone? “No. How could I? I don’t know anyone here.”
    Kellen nodded again, then maneuvered his horse closer and held out a hand. “Might I assist you back to the keep?”
    Looking at the large, calloused hand, Gillian thought about going with him, thought about sitting on his lap again, with his warmth and solid muscle at her back. She remembered the way his arms had held her tight and how she’d melted into him, trying to absorb his strength.
    A part of her wanted to fall into those arms again for comfort, but now that she knew he was real, she was pretty sure it wasn’t such a good idea. He either wanted to marry her or kill her. Since he wasn’t joking about either option, she could really use a bit of time to adjust.
    Especially since, if and when he found out she wasn’t Edith Corbett, he might take option number two and hang her as a spy.
    She smiled weakly at him. “How about a walk?”
    Gillian watched with relief as Kellen gave a brief nod and dismounted. He threw the reins of his horse to a grinning knight, crossed the distance quickly, and held out his arms.
    Gillian hesitated. She realized she’d either have to accept his help or turn around and scoot down with her butt in the air. She looked into Kellen’s upturned face, to the four knights at his back, all grinning now, and realized that was not going to happen.
    She moved to the edge, took a breath, and fell into Kellen’s outstretched arms. Her hands landed on his shoulders and he caught her under her arms and lifted. She could feel the hardness of chain mail and bunching muscles as he easily hoisted her up and around, then slowly lowered her to the ground. She couldn’t help the way her heart thumped at this effortless show of strength.
    The romantic dress she wore, her hands slipping to his chest, the predatory way he looked at her, all combined to make her knees weak. The attraction she felt was stronger than ever and left her breathless.
    Realizing her feet were on the ground, that she still gripped him and stared into his eyes like an enraptured groupie, she dropped her hands and turned away. She needed to think, and it was better if she didn’t touch him while she did so.
    She cleared her throat. “Shall we go?” Her voice was breathless and, embarrassed, she didn’t wait for an answer.
    Keeping her distance, she skirted