The Promise by T. J. Bennett Read Free Book Online

mouth to the ruffled dark-blond hair she had tangled in her fingers just moments ago. She could not look away. She clenched her trembling hands behind her, stared at his mouth, and cursed her own weakness.
    “I do not fear you,” she denied feebly. Just your kisses and your touch …
    “I have always known you belonged to me.” His eyes roamed over her face. He moved closer still, until his chest brushed her breasts. “Always. Mayhap before we ever met.”
    “Now who speaks as one insane?” Her voice sounded husky, as though she had just arisen from his bed after a night of ardent lovemaking.
    He smiled slowly. “I want you to speak to me that way after the first time I take you,” he said in a gravelly whisper. “Low and soft, like a woman well-pleasured. Which you will be.”
    Her hand moved of its own accord. The slap rang out in the quietness of the tent, her palm stinging from the force of it. Though it left a red welt across his cheek, he did not react.
    He stared at her, his proud nose flaring, his green eyes narrowing to slits. He slid his hand once more around her waist and pulled her to him. She resisted the draw, pushed with her palms against his chest. His other hand skimmed down to the swell of her buttocks, and he pressed her hips into his, watching for her reaction. She bit back a moan at the feel of him, at the rush of desire that made her knees go weak.
    He leaned into her, and she thought he would kiss her again. Instead—to her surprise—he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. His hand rose and fisted there for a moment, but he released her. She almost fell backward from the sudden loss of his strong arms encircling her.
    Günter’s jaw clenched. Then the corner of his mouth lifted in a provocative smile. He made a loose fist with one hand and gave her chin a light tap.
    “Fight me, then. Run, if you must. Hide—if you can. But you will not escape your fate.” He pinned her with the heat of his gaze.
    “I am your fate,” he vowed and, turning on his heel, walked out of the tent.

CHAPTER FOUR
    G ÜNTER STOPPED JUST BEYOND THE TENT FLAP AND took a steadying breath. He needed one, lest he turn around, march back into the tent, and show Alonsa just how much she already belonged to him.
    He heard the “lovely flower,” as Martin had once called her, curse like a soldier and smash something breakable inside the tent. He shook his head in amused empathy and strode a few more paces away from temptation.
    Frustration tugged at him, demanding he go to her, coax her to surrender to him and become his wife now, so that he could spend the rest of the day indulging his raging desire—and hers. However, the small amount of reason still left within him admitted such a plan would be unlikely to succeed, not to mention unseemly, given the timing.
    They had only buried Martin today. Günter could wait. If it killed him, he would wait.
    Nonetheless … she had a strong will. Almost as strong as his. He smiled to himself, despite his aggravation at her stubborn resistance. Martin had warned him she wouldn’t be had easily. Yet Günter did not doubt she would be had, and by him. Not by a nunnery, which had no use for her unrestrained passion, no need for her sweet skin and her hot mouth. He ground his teeth at the ridiculous notion of this woman bound to the Church, secluded and beyond his reach. He would be dead and his body cooling on the ground before he allowed it to happen.
    Still, Alonsa would require careful handling. She was her own worst enemy. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her; even so, she would be a worthy opponent. He would have to probe her defenses, find her weaknesses before she reinforced them. Then he would mount a sustained siege; a direct frontal assault, as it were.
    He smiled in anticipation.
    Günter stroked his chin and mused for a moment, plotting strategy in his mind. He heard a slight cough and looked about. He had been so involved in planning his sensual