GIVING HER NO TIME TO REACT, HE TOOK HER HAND IN HIS AND TUGGED HER TO HIM
Appearing dazed and bewildered, Kat did not resist. He pulled her inexorably closer, until their breaths mingled. She inhaled deeply and her breasts rose, brushing his chest with tantalizing effect. Air whooshed from his lungs as though he were drowning.
He released her hand, but before she could escape, Alex cradled her head in his hands and slowly dipped his head. She stood still as a stunned doe surprised by an unwelcome intruder. But the intruder was unrepentant and took blatant advantage of her lapse.
Alex inhaled Kat’s jasmine-and-spice scent as he swooped down, his eyes intent on the absolution her lips bespoke. Finally, his mouth made contact, barely brushing the corner of her bottom lip, a teasing caress that made him groan with the need of a deeper communion.
He repeated the reverent gesture on the other side of her mouth. “This is to seal our bargain, of course,” he said in a deep husky timbre, then covered her mouth with his.
Vow of Seduction
ANGELA JOHNSON
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
I dedicate this book to Joe Cowdin—
my hero, my love, my inspiration
For believing in me before I believed in myself
Acknowledgments
I owe a debt of gratitude to many people for making this book possible. Thank you to Kansas Writers Inc. for their unwavering support and encouragement; to my wonderful and talented critique partners—Tammy Ard, Anne Barringer, Morgan Chilson, Tish Glasson, Lori Martin, and Shayne Sawyer—for molding me into a better writer; to Morgan for her much appreciated work on the final edit of Vow of Seduction.
Many thanks to Chris Hubbell, my tech guru who rescued me on many occasions; and to Leann and Shayne for lending a hand, or two, when needed.
I’d also like to thank Marj Murray and the Interlibrary Loan Department at Washburn University for their assistance in my researching endeavors.
Lastly, I thank Hilary Sares for giving me this amazing opportunity, and Megan Records, for making the transition between editors a seamless process.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Prologue
In the year of our Lord 1267
Montclair Estate, Kent, England
Lady Katherine of Montclair squeezed her thighs tightly around Hunter’s sleek body and rode him hard. Sunlight speared the oak forest canopy, dappling them with heat. Leaning over Hunter, she whispered loving words into his ear and stroked her hand down the taut length of his neck and powerful shoulders. In response, his flanks flexed beneath her, thrusting harder, faster. Her heart pounded sharply and excitement pulsed in her blood.
For her, there was naught more exhilarating than the raw sensation of her steed’s muscled loins pumping between her thighs as she rode at full gallop.
Her nose pressed to Hunter’s neck, Lady Katherine, or Kat as she stubbornly insisted, inhaled deeply of the sharp tang of heated horseflesh. A bead of perspiration trickled down between her small breasts. And her short black hair, captured at her nape by a leather band, came free and stuck to her moist skin.
Wearing green hose and a knee-length tunic, with her cropped hair and a quiver of arrows across her back, she looked like a lad instead of a girl age ten and four.
Without warning, Hunter slowed his pace, his ears pricked forward. A sharp tickle rose on the back of Kat’s neck, chilling the dampness there. She tugged on the reins and pulled the black to an abrupt stop.
The shady woods were eerily quiet. “Aye, I sense it, too, Hunter. But what?”
Her head cocked, she peered through the leafy screen shielding the glen up ahead and listened for possible signs of danger. The wind sighed. Smells of rich loamy earth and sun-warmed leaves permeated the air.
The sudden clang of steel upon steel rang out. Her heart jolted. Hunter whinnied. “Quiet, boy,” she crooned, patting his silky black neck while the sounds of battle echoed through the trees.
Kat removed her longbow from the saddle, slung a long, slender leg over her horse’s rump, and slid softly to the moss-covered ground.
She crept towards the clearing as quiet as a snail. Her blood pumped hard and fast. Her hand caressed her well-oiled yew bow, a ritual that never failed to calm her galloping nerves. Caution ruled until she ascertained the identity of the intruders on Montclair lands. Danger abounded from thieves and rogues intent on mischief.
Stopping next to a stunted oak, Kat peered into the glade and gasped. Upon seeing the carnage in the once peaceful glen, she nearly dropped her bow from nerveless fingers. Near the large pond in the center of the clearing, two men lay dead, one with blood gushing from his neck, his head severed from his body. Two more men fought with swords in a violent dance of death.
Her heart about to burst in terror, Kat could not move. For the shorter of the combatants was Alex de Beaumont, her intended husband. But long training side by side her father’s men-at-arms had taught her to fight through her fear. She took a deep breath, and then exhaled. A sudden calm descended upon her. A silent, fervent prayer upon her lips, she withdrew an arrow from her quiver and nocked the feathered end, then waited for a clear shot.
Alex was at a disadvantage, wearing only his sherte, blood oozing from a shallow slash across his thigh. His shoulder-length black hair was wet and slicked back off his forehead. He must have just emerged from the pond when these brigands attacked him. The man he fought was dressed all in black and wore a gambeson, a padded knee-length leather tunic. A great hulking brute, he had a crooked nose and deep-lined forehead.
When the ruffian lunged at Alex, Kat tensed. But Alex, using his smaller, more agile body to his advantage, sidestepped to the right and shoved the larger man as he stumbled past.
The brute roared, turned with surprising speed, and charged again. Alex swung his sword up at the last moment to meet the other’s violent downward stroke. Their swords crashed to the hilts, sparks flew. Struggling against one another, their