Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Fiona plopped down on a grassy knoll and patted the ground beside her.
Tarr accepted her invitation.
“Love binds, it is something you can always count on.”
“Duty does the same thing,” he counted. “Without as much dread.”
She chuckled and drew her legs up to wrap her arms around them. “Duty is a necessity, love is a choice. You are free to choose with love, with duty you are honor bound.”
“Is it not your duty to wed me?”
“If given the choice which would you choose, duty or love?”
Weeks ago he would have answered quickly and without doubt. Now, however, he hesitated.
“You think on your answer. There is hope for you yet.” She laughed and patted his outstretched leg. “A marked improvement since first we met.”
“I will admit I have learned something these past few weeks.”
“I am impressed.”
He liked the way her green eyes sparkled with a mischievous playfulness. She was so very full of life, ready to take a chance, ready to defend, ready to love—and the hell with what anyone thought.
“Tell me what it is you learned,” she encouraged.
He shook his head. “That just when you think you know everything, you know nothing.”
“You can always learn.”
“It might take time.”
“I can be patient when necessary,” she said.
He picked at the grass between his legs, keeping his eyes on his busy fingers. “I am a warrior accomplished in battle and duty. I do what must be done, too much thought could prove fatal. I must have faith in my judgments and see that my edicts and decisions are carried through without question. It means the survival of my clan.”
“Strong sons are also necessary to your clan’s survival.”
He looked at her and for a brief moment pictured her round with his child. It sent a rage of emotions cursing through him, the most powerful being his overwhelming need to protect her and his unborn child.
“Say nothing,” she warned with a raised hand. “Your thoughts remain the same. I am nothing more than a brood mare to you.”
“That is not true,” he argued.
She propelled herself to her feet and looked down at him. “Then what is the truth?”
He searched for the right words, elusive as they were. Unable to form an adequate response, he jolted to his feet. “I care for you.”
“Care? Care?” she yelled and threw her hands up. “My horse cares for me.”
“I care enough to follow after you when you foolishly don a man’s garb and ride at a speed that could kill you.”
She glared at him, her green eyes smoldering. “You think me foolish because I wear garments that allow me to sit a horse more safely?”
He reached out but stopped himself from grabbing her. “You can be the most frustrating woman.”
“The problem is that I am too intelligent for the likes of you.”
Tarr grabbed her arm. “If you are so intelligent, why is it that you will wed me?”
“I have not agreed to marry you,” she reminded him curtly.
His laughter made known he disagreed with her, and it spiked her temper.
“I will not marry the likes of you.”
He brought his face to hers. “But you will, and you know why?”
She looked ready to spew a hundred or more oaths at him, yet she remained tight-lipped.
“You want me. You have wanted me from the first time we kissed. And what you want, Fiona, you make sure you get.”
She jerked her arm violently and a pain tore through her shoulder. She refused to acknowledge the ache to herself or him.
“I will not let you go. We will wed and I will satisfy that lust I see rage in your heated green eyes. And you will give me sons and I will always care for you and protect you.”
Her nostrils flared, her chest heaved, and her hand fisted at her side.
“Even now in your anger you want me,” he challenged. “Deny it! Go on deny it!”
Her face molted with fury and her lips disappeared in her mouth, she pressed them so tightly together.
“Damn you for stealing my heart,” he growled before forcing her mouth open with a forceful pinch of her cheeks, then robbing her of breath and sanity with a kiss that demanded, begged, and harassed.
Her surrender did not come easy; she struggled but not with him, with herself. The instant he kissed her, he could sense her urgency to respond in kind. But her pride had her pushing at his chest, sparring with his tongue, and squirming in his arms.
He refused her mercy, turning the kiss to an erotic blend of taunts and teases that soon had her crazy. Her hands grasped his shirt and tugged and pulled demanding he give her more, and he did.
His hand slipped down to her backside and he squeezed the firm muscles, urging her closer and closer to him.
He tore his mouth free needing air. “Mine,” he whispered as he nibbled along her ear. “You are mine.”