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)
“I caught you from the corner of my eye when my sister and I parted. You followed me, and not as unobtrusively as you should have.”
“You let me follow you?” Tarr asked.
“I wanted to see what you were about, then I realized.” Fiona turned and threw another stone; it skipped clear across the stream. “You wanted to see how skilled I was with a horse to determine if I am Fiona or Aliss. I confuse you, and that annoys you. Or are you annoyed because you find you favor kissing me?”
Tarr walked over to her, grabbed her arm, swung her around, and planted his lips on hers with a challenge to her to deny him.
She did not give it a thought. She wanted to taste him as much as he wanted to taste her. The kiss was more a battle than a tender embrace. Their tongues darted, their lips demanded, and their bodies pressed into each other. Did one intend to emerge a victor?
Fiona made no protest when his hand grabbed her firm around the neck and his mouth grinded against hers with a passion that sent her toes to tingling.
Damn if he did not taste good like a flavor of the finest wine or the freshest fruit that tempted the soul and made you hunger for more. His strong fingers dug into the muscles at the back of her neck while he kissed her, and Damn, Damn if it did not feel as good as the kiss.
She leaned into him and grabbed hold of his powerful arms, hugging them as if she needed their support. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and that was fine with Fiona until they both came to their senses and let the battle wane, their foreheads dropping to rest against one another.
“I do not even know who I kiss,” Tarr said on a deep breath.
“The question should be why do you kiss me?”
“You tempt my soul, woman,” he said, and bit gently at her bottom lip.
She grinned and licked the taste of him off her lip.
Tarr shivered. “We could do well together.”
“I could give you strong sons,” Fiona said, and stepped away from him.
“We would enjoy creating them.” He sounded pleased.
She stared blankly at him.
He stepped forward. “I would be good to you.”
“Would you love me?” she demanded.
“In my own way.”
Fiona’s blank stare remained as she grabbed her mare’s reins and mounted her horse without assistance from him. She rode off and did not look back.
She felt her emotions well up inside her. She enjoyed their kisses more than she cared to admit. She enjoyed the strength of his massive arms around her, the feel of his strong fingers kneading her neck and the heated intensity of his kiss and how it stirred her passion beyond reason.
Tarr was more than she bargained for, and the idea that she could be attracted to him troubled her. It could interfere with her choices if she was not careful. She could very well be tempted to justify a joining with him for no good reason, and live to regret it.
Her mother had filled her and Aliss’s heads with tales of chivalrous men who wooed and won maiden hearts, and how in the end love conquered all, a tiresome tale to some, a poetic beauty to others.
To Fiona love was beauty in its purest form. She had watched the beauty of the way her mother and father laughed and loved together every day of their lives. When they argued, which had been rare, they both would be apologizing and hugging and laughing in no time. When her father had taken ill, her mother had tended him with loving care, never complaining, never crying in self-pity but sharing as much time and joy with him as she could right up until the very end.
They had shared the joys and sorrows with the same enthusiasm and had been content in each other’s arms.
Fiona wanted a bond like her parents, a lasting bond that would travel beyond these earthly planes to the heavens above. She liked to think that her mother and father were happy, safe, and finally sharing an eternal love.
She choked back a tear, crying just did not suit her character and she rarely shed tears, the last being when her mother died.
Was she foolish to think that she could find such an everlasting love? She had no answer; she only knew that if she did not try she would always regret it. She found Tarr of Hellewyk attractive, and she knew there was more to the man than he let most see.
She wanted to know what lurked beneath the surface of the fierce chieftain that stirred fear and respect in the hearts of his enemies. And she had one month to do it.
Fiona smiled as she approached the keep. This was one challenge she looked forward to.