Virgin Bride by Tamara Leigh

by an indignation so strong, she found herself stepping quickly from the altar to stand before the blasphemous man. "Of course I believe in God!"
    The baron's dark eyebrows arced in mock distress. "And I thought I had found myself one of kindred spirit. Tell me." He leaned forward. "Is your sexual proclivity typical of all members of the clergy? For if 'tis, then I vow to question God's existence no longer. I will simply deny it."
    The anger that had given her strength for those few moments drained from her, leaving her despondent. He was bent on punishing her. She was horrified to feel the sharp prick of tears in her eyes.
    He was not moved.
    "If..." Her voice cracked terribly, and she paused to take herself firmly in hand. "As you obviously refer to yestereve," she continued, looking anywhere but at him, "I would have you know that what I did was done with the full intention of refusing to take the veil."
    "Truly?" He cocked his head and regarded her trembling mouth. "Then you wear the habit today simply for the privilege it affords you?"
    She felt her anger spark again, but was not quick enough to fan it to life. Somewhere she found the courage to meet his gaze. "Nay," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and attempting to rub warmth back into them. "Only by my father's order have I donned it. He does not yet know of my sin."
    She was completely unprepared for what happened next, though she caught the glimmer of it in the baron's eyes the moment before his hand shot out and caught her habit. Yanking hard, he tumbled her across his lap.
    "And when did you think you would tell your father you no longer qualified to become a nun?" he demanded as she struggled to emerge from the excess material of the habit. "Or perhaps he does know of your sin—even condoned it as a means of entrapping me. Was it he who sent you?"
    Graeye went perfectly still, his words like a slap across the face. He truly believed that she and Edward had conspired to entrap him by the giving of her virginity to him? That she would whore her body in hopes of gaining concessions? Nay, she wanted naught from this man!
    Thrusting aside the veil that had fallen across her face, she glared up at her assailant. "Release me!" she demanded, suppressing the temptation to drag her nails across his face.
    Smirking, he forced her into a sitting position upon his lap. "What did you hope to gain by seducing me?"
    She threw her hands against his chest and tried to push off him, but for all her efforts, he only gripped her tighter and twisted her about so she faced him. Struck by how attractive he appeared even with that mask of hate firmly upon his face, Graeye ignored how terribly askew her wimple had gone.
    "Did you hope to force me to marriage?" he continued, his warm breath fanning her lips. "Is Med land so important you would sell your body for it—perhaps even your soul?"
    So that was what he thought! Rage of a kind she had never before experienced flooded through her, suffusing her entire body with heat.
    "Nay," she loudly denied, straining against arms that were like steel bands around her. "Never would I marry one such as yourself. Had I known who you were when you came upon my sanctuary, I never would have given myself to you!"
    He appeared amused by her outburst. "And I am to
    believe you?" He shook his head. " 'Twould seem more likely 'twas you who came upon me and decided to take advantage of the situation."
    Further angered by his conclusion, and her inability to free herself from this lover-turned-enemy, Graeye lifted her fists and struck his chest with all her strength. He allowed her to vent her rage, all the while smirking at the ineffectual blows dealt him by one so small.
    It was not long before she realized she had little chance of making any dents in him. She had, however, gained a measure of control over the powerful anger that had so suddenly come upon her. Stilling, she plunged her throbbing hands into her lap and stared into his cold