The Warrior Poet by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

to
Christian's lust-glazed eyes. They were as magnificent as he had remembered, the most exquisite mounds of flesh he had ever
had the fortune to experience. Her nipples, as large as a small plum,
wordlessly screamed for his attention and he heeded the call far more harshly
than he should have. The moment his hot mouth clamped down on her swollen
nipple, Gaithlin let out a scream.
    Her body was stiff
as he suckled her, wrapping his arms about her slender torso, entrapping her
breasts against his hungry mouth. Her arms were enveloped within his iron
embrace as well, and he was vaguely aware that her struggles had increased. But
it only served to excite him, for he was positive she was responding freely to
his demanded advance.
    Lapping the
sweetness of her distended nipple, he hungrily moved to the other breast when a
distinct, heart-broken sob penetrated his desire. Even as his lips enclosed her
nipple, another sob broke forth and he realized she wasn't responding to him
any longer. She was fighting him.
    His head came up,
meeting deep blue orbs swimming with hot, frightened tears. Startled, his
expression washed with genuine concern; this woman had suffered a brutal
afternoon of pain and harsh encounters and physical abuse, and her bravery had
been nothing short of astounding. He was suddenly very interested to know what
had driven this tough woman to tears.
    "What's the
matter?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?"
    She sobbed again,
tears spilling down her cheeks and catching him with their splatter. Christian
licked the errant tear from his lip as she struggled with her composure.
    "Answer me,”
he demanded gently. “What is wrong?"
    Her head lolled to
the side and she shut her eyes, avoiding his gaze, avoiding his presence. Avoiding him. "Please... don't. I beg of you,
sire. Please... don't do this!"
    His brow furrowed
faintly. "Don't do what? Don't kiss you?"
    She twisted within
his grasp, struggling to break free, but he refused to release his hold.
Frustrated and bordering on panic, her eyes blazed at him. "You said you
that it was not your intention to kill me. So you intend to rob me of my
innocence in punishment for having been born a de Gare? You intend to rob me of
what is most precious to any maiden?"
    He released her.
Fighting off the sobs of shame and embarrassment, Gaithlin turned away from him
and struggled to re-dress herself. Christian watched her with a good deal of
confusion and a generous measure of personal shame.
    "But you...
you allowed me to kiss you, wench,” he pointed out. “You encouraged me to
continue."
    "I was not
given a choice!" she threw back at him, sniffling as she pulled the damp
wool over her shoulders. "You were intent on ravishing me whether or not I
encouraged you."
    He stared at her a
moment before averting his gaze, raking his fingers through his wetted blond
hair and feeling more humiliation than he could ever recall. He'd never known a
woman to refuse his advances and was quite inept in dealing with the rejection.
The advances of the Demon of Eden were never unwanted.
    ... were they?
    But... it simply
wasn't true! A spark of anger flared within his chest and he turned to her once
more, watching her tears ease and her composure return. He was willing to admit
that he had lost control, but she had most definitely responded to his touch as
if she had been made for his pleasure alone. Never had a woman felt so natural
in his arms, so genuine, as if she had always been meant for him.
    The longer he
stared at her, the more confused and frustrated he became. Good Christ, he
realized that above his arrogance and bafflement he was actually ashamed of
himself. He'd never been ashamed of anything in his life and the words
expressing sorrow for his actions did not come easily, especially to a de Gare.
    "I apologize
if I frightened you,” he said gruffly. “It was not my intent."
    Sniffling loudly,
she squared her shoulders and faced him. "Pray, what was your intent? To
degrade me, humiliate