The Lady's Choice by Bernadette Rowley

fell to her ankles, then he stooped and retrieved her robe and drew it around her shoulders. He held her there, his hands gripping the front of her robe, his eyes dark, troubled. As Benae stared at his torment, his gaze fell to her mouth and he drew her close, his lips claiming hers for a tender kiss. Her heart melted. No one had ever kissed her thus, as if she were the most precious gift in the world. Perhaps he had changed his mind. But as Ramón drew back, his hands dropped to his sides and he took a deep breath. ‘One of us must remember your betrothal. Now get yourself to bed. We depart at first light.’ He turned and left the room without another word or a backwards glance.
    How could he resist her? She had been virtually naked in front of him, performing a striptease, and he had stopped her. Although he had said he wanted her. She frowned. He wanted her. What did that mean? And that last kiss! Goddess, how did he kiss her like that and walk away? That kiss promised more than rapturous abandon. It spoke of a lifetime of love and trust. At least that was how it felt to her. Tender was how that kiss had felt and tender had nothing to do with lust.
    Benae shook her head, annoyed that things had slipped beyond her control. If Jiseve had not teased her so she might have been able to resist Ramón’s broad shoulders and soft lips. Then again, perhaps not. If she were honest, the squire had been an irresistible force from the very first time she saw him. And now she must spend days travelling in his company, knowing she had offered herself to him and he had rejected her. Her insides curled in shame. Her heart and mind roiled in confusion. What was she? Dignified court lady or a wanton hussy, as Avalin had suggested?
    Ramón was right to refuse her. He had kept his head when he should not have been able to resist her. Perhaps he was not the virgin she thought him. He didn’t kiss like a virgin. Her heart thudded anew at the memory of his kisses, which were even more satisfying than she had imagined. She knew now what she was giving up by marrying Jiseve, knew his kisses, his love would never match Ramón’s. No matter how content she might be with Jiseve, it would be Ramón she would crave and Ramón she would never have. How stupid she had been to believe she could make this contract with Jiseve and not pay a price.
    Benae must retrieve her dignity as best she could. She would get over Ramón in time; she had to believe that. In Jiseve she had a husband who would protect her estates and her people. A little frustration was a small price to pay.

Chapter 7
    Ramón supervised the loading of the coach that would transport Benae to Wildecoast. Two trunks had been strapped to the back along with Ramón’s small chest. The tents were stored on the roof of the carriage, one for himself and four others for the eight soldiers they were taking as a guard. Billy the stableboy led Flaire over to the coach and tied him to the rear.
    â€˜Thanks Billy,’ Ramón said, surreptitiously checking the knot. It would not do for the horse to be lost on the trip. He was not even sure why Flaire had to come, but it was a battle not worth fighting. The horse was fitted with Benae’s saddle, complete with silver adorning pommel, cantle and stirrups. Billy handed Ramón a matching bridle, which he slung on a hook on the back of the carriage. The stallion was tethered by a plain head collar that was much more practical and comfortable for the horse than wearing a bridle, especially when he wasn’t being ridden.
    â€˜I’ll miss him, squire,’ Billy said, giving the horse a pat on the neck and getting a soft muzzle against his ear in return. Billy was one of those rare individuals who attracted animals, made them feel comfortable and unafraid, but he had been in all sorts of trouble since Vard Anton had left. Ramón shook his head. As much as Ramón hated Anton, the man had taken Billy