Lavender Vows by Colleen Gleason Read Free Book Online Page A

back of his neck and along his spine. Then, as she kissed him with growing fervor, her hands smoothed down over his ears and to his shoulders, where their heat burned him, but their weight was barely noticeable.
     
    Pulling her to his chest so that their torsos fit together as they knelt in the straw, he deepened the kiss—fighting to keep from frightening her with his desire, but needing to get his fill. It was the softness, the gentleness, the clean womanness of her scent that he held and wanted…and through the haze of irrational desire, vowed he would have.
     
    At last, she pulled away, and he opened his eyes to see whether he’d taken too much from her. But the swollen curve of her lips, and the soft light in her eyes told him that, nay, she had been plundered no more than what she herself had desired. When she raised her hand to touch his cheek, smoothing the bristles of hair that grew there, he smiled and her fingers slipped near his mouth. She traced his lips, hidden by the moustache, before he captured her hand for a last kiss in her palm.
     
    “Enough, now, my lady—else I shall not be at my best on the lists this day.” With reluctance, he set her away from him and moved himself back so as to be out of easy reach of temptation.
     
    God’s bones, she was beautiful, all plump-lipped and heavy-eyed, with her hair still perfectly braided and coiled in swirls on her head. Bernard nearly pulled her to him again, but caught himself in time.
     
    “I shall carry that favor in my heart, and this one”—he pulled a scrap of white from the sleeve of his tunic—“on my lance.”
     
    “Oh, Bernard, you had best not. Please, should Ralf see it….”
     
    “He would recognize this piece of cloth as yours?” he asked, pulling it through his hands. It was soft, as she was, and smelled of her—and well he knew, for he’d slept with it on his pillow the last eve.
     
    “Oh, yes, Bernard. Ralf has the most discerning eye for such things.” She looked at him with such fear in eyes that had been dazed with desire only moments before.
     
    “Then I shall wear this favor near my heart,” he told her. With a quick jerk, he had his over tunic off, and then his sherte , leaving him bare-chested. At the sight of him, she drew in her breath deeply and Bernard could not help but the swell of pride that she should react thus. After all, she had been the victim of a man as powerfully as he.
     
    She watched him as he wrapped the white linen veil around his hirsute, muscular chest, and, as though she could not remain away any longer, moved forward to take the ends of the veil and tie it herself. Then her hands slipped boldly—so boldly for his shy, demure Joanna—up through the thick coarse hair and over the top of his shoulders, sending the same searing heat that came from her gaze.
     
    “You are wondrous,” she told him. “And ’tis all the more miraculous that you have the gentleness of a mare about you. With such strength, you could rule the simple life of anyone.”
     
    Touched, and shamed that his fellow man should be the cause of such grief, Bernard reached to stroke her face, gently, over the purpling bruise. It took great effort not to ruin the moment by allowing the cold fury he felt toward her husband to burst forth. “One with my strength has no need to prove his power at the expense of a weaker one. Nor should any man need have that urge. I am sorry that you should have experienced this yourself. Joanna, I will protect you. I will find a way.”
     
    She tipped her face to touch her mouth to his, then drew back before the kiss could deepen. “Aye, Bernard….and God be with you on the lists today—for Ralf does bear you ill. You do not intend to meet him, do you?”
     
    His eyes jolted wide in surprise. “But of course I will meet him, Joanna. Knocking the whoreson on his arse will be the greatest pleasure for me. Would that I could do more damage, but of course, I cannot in such a tournament.