Page 3 of The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

Ademar held out his hand. “I’ll find a place for you.”

“For us,” she corrected. “You need to dry your clothing as well.” His garments were as soaked as her own, his tunic, braies, and chausses plastered to his body. Lean and muscled, his body showed the signs of training. Beneath his clothing, there would be scars as well, for all warriors bore such markings.

Even her sister. Troubled thoughts welled up inside Katherine, taunting her. You aren’t like Honora, and you never will be. You don’t have her courage or her strength.

And once Katherine chose a suitor to wed, he would see the truth—that beneath her industrious air and smooth ability to run an estate, lay a woman who let fear dominate her.

“Will you come with me?” Ademar asked, his hand still outstretched.

She hesitated, for she sensed that it wasn’t a wise decision to make. She should return to her own chamber, to her own bed. Just as a good daughter would.

Her frustration flared up again. Obedience hadn’t served any purpose. She’d lost the man she’d wanted and now faced the humiliation of having to wed a different man. Whereas Honora had defied all the rules and had won Ewan for herself.

Ademar saw her hesitation and let his hand fall back to his side. Upon his face, she saw the same dejection she felt. And though it was wrong and she would regret her actions come the morn, Katherine nodded. “I’ll come.”

Ademar wasn’t certain how he managed to build a small blaze without burning his fingers. It took all of his effort to keep his hands from shaking. He’d ordered his men-at-arms to leave, not allowing them to see Lady Katherine. She deserved a chance to warm herself without any idle tongues questioning why she was here. But even so, it was dangerous, being in this chamber alone with her.

What had possessed her to kiss him? Never in a thousand years had he expected such a thing. He couldn’t understand her reasons why.

It was true; he had never kissed a woman before. His father had made sport of him, mocking his speech difficulties when he was younger until none of the women looked upon him with desire. He supposed he could have had any of them because of his wealth. But he didn’t want a woman who considered him an object of scorn. He had no idea what Katherine thought of him, but his senses were captivated by her.

She stood before the fire and unclasped his cloak, setting it aside. Her silhouette was visible under the wet gown, and her rosy nipples were hard nubs beneath the fabric. The undeniable instinct to touch her was starting to wear down his honor.

Ademar turned his back, trying to hide his physical reaction to her. God above, he needed to stand outside in the rain for another hour, just to quell the unbidden response.

But then, she moved close to him and touched his tunic, which clung to his torso like a wet skin. “You should take this off.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though it meant nothing for him to bare his chest before her. But he hardly knew what he was doing here, much less what she wanted from him.

He knew exactly what he wanted from her. And nothing about it was honorable.

Right now, he wanted to peel away her wet clothing, to taste her cool flesh, kissing a path down to her breasts. His body ached to touch hers, to join with her in the most intimate of ways. Although he had never experienced the warmth of a woman’s body, he’d heard stories from his brothers. He had remembered the information, knowing that one day he would put it to use.

Damn it all, he wanted to lie with her, to possess her as only a husband should. And knowing that she would never choose a man like him made it all the more difficult to keep his hands to himself.

“I shouldn’t be here with you,” Katherine said. “My father would have me beaten if he knew.”

And Nicholas of Ardennes would have the flesh flayed from Ademar’s own skin. It was worth it, he decided. Even though he had to let her go, he would always remember the kiss.

“I’ll leave,” he offered. “Or I can send a maid to you.”

Though he had moved toward the door, Katherine stepped in front of him, hindering his path. Her blue eyes studied him, as though she couldn’t quite make a decision. Her hands clasped and unclasped, revealing her nervousness, before her fingers touched her lips. “I’ve never…done something like that before. Kissed a man for no reason.”

She rubbed her shoulders as if trying to ward off a chill. “I wanted you to know it. I was angry at my sister and Ewan, and I just…” Her explanation faded away.

Just what? he wanted to ask. A thousand questions rose up, but he couldn’t speak a single word without feeling like a fool. Instead, he stood before her, the unbearable silence rising up like a shield.

She flushed. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Moving aside, Katherine gave him an open walkway to the door. She stared at the floor, as though she’d humiliated herself with the admission.

She was hurting right now. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself. He wanted to tell her that the kiss she’d bestowed had been an unexpected gift. That she was a woman worthy of being loved, even if he could never be the man she wanted.

Words. He needed words right now. But he was trapped in a maelstrom of tangled thoughts and useless phrases. If he opened his mouth, nothing would make sense.

She was leaning against the wall, gripping her arms as though despair had settled over her, and he spied a tear slipping from beneath her lashes.

Had he made her cry? Or was she dreaming of Ewan MacEgan, grieving for her loss?

Ademar moved in front of her, tilting her chin up to look at him. He slid his fingers into her hair, tossing aside the wet veil, and framing her face with his clumsy hands.

He kissed her. With his mouth, he tried to tell her that she was beautiful. He savored the taste of her lips, like sweet grapes.