Vow of Seduction. Angela Johnson
arms tense with restraint.
Then in rapid succession, the dark outlaw shoved Alex hard, Alex staggered back, and as he did, his sword came up and slashed the bastard’s cheek open. Blood spurted and the man howled in pain and surprise.
Unfortunately, Alex tripped over the foot of one of the dead men sprawled in the grass and fell down. His head slammed into the ground, his sword hand smashed against a boulder, and he lost his grip. The hilt clattered against the rock and out of his reach.
The dark fiend, his face contorted in rage, loomed over Alex and raised his sword high for a killing thrust. Alex cursed; in one smooth motion, Kat drew her bowstring, sighted her target, and released her missile.
Hissing through the air, the arrow thumped into flesh, finding its mark. The outlaw, shock palpable on his face, blood dripping from his cheek wound, looked down at the arrow protruding from his shoulder.
Another arrow nocked and ready to be drawn, Kat ordered in a gruff voice, “Drop your sword and back away from him, or my next arrow will sever your gullet.”
The stranger, his black gaze cold and merciless, spouted inanely, “You’re naught but a lad.”
Kat grunted. “A lad I may be,” she said. Bitterness twisted her lips. Though not a lad, neither was she a lady, meek and mild. Never had she felt comfortable in the role to which the Church and society dictated she conform. She followed her own path the way she thought best for her. Kat continued, “But this lad has the upper hand. Now do as I say.” She dared not look at Alex.
The villain scowled, the wicked slash on his cheek like a big gaping smile. He seemed to gauge his chances, unwilling to accept defeat, before he finally dropped his sword to the ground and stepped back several paces.
In a flash of white, Alex jumped to his feet with his sword in hand, but he stumbled in his haste. His attacker seized the moment of confusion and fled, charging for the trees.
Nay, the knave shall not escape my net so easily, she thought.
Kat turned and sighted her target. But at the last moment, with a wicked smile, she lowered her aim and released her missile. Just before he reached the woods, the man howled in pain and clutched his right buttock. Limping, he ran into the trees, an arrow embedded in his shoulder and another in the vulnerable flesh of his nether cheek.
“Mayhap you shall think twice next time before attacking me and mine!” Kat hollered after him. Her hands shook in belated reaction.
Not wanting to reveal how afeared she had been, Kat turned to greet Alex, a huge grin on her face.
He, on the other hand, glared at her, his hands clenched at his sides. “You little fool, you could’ve been killed.” His gaze skimmed over her, his full lips twisted in contempt. “Any other young lady of breeding would have had the good sense to run for her life and leave the battle to men. How could I have forgotten you don’t have the sense God gave a ewe?”
Kat fumed at the injustice of his diatribe. If she were a man—which she was not, unfortunately—Alex would be thanking her for saving his life, instead of scolding her like an errant child.
She raised her hand up in a swift motion. “Enough. If I were any other lady, you would be dead right now. How is that for sense?” she asked, not hiding her disgust.
Alex’s face reddened in fury, or embarrassment perhaps. In several quick strides he towered over her like some ancient monolith, grabbed her arms in a vise-like grip, and yanked her up against his chest, eye to eye. Defiant, she glared into his startlingly blue gaze, unnerved by the strange sensation of her small breasts cushioned against his hard chest.
His eyes bore into her and an angry tic flared in his cheek. “How arrogant you are, Lady Katherine. I have escaped worse predicaments before and would have done so again. I had no need of your interference. And I certainly don’t need to be rescued by a skinny waif of a girl!”
“Oh,” she cried out, “you ungrateful wretch.” She squirmed against him in an attempt to escape his painful grip, but he held firm. “And I’m not a little girl anymore, Alex, but a woman full-grown.”
The irritating man quirked his black eyebrow in disbelief, sorely pricking her vaunted pride. I shall show him, Kat thought. She arched her back and rubbed her breasts against his hard body. “See you, I have breasts.”
Shock glazed his deep blue eyes and he staggered back, releasing her.
Kat cupped her small breasts and lifted them, just in case he needed solid proof. “Here. Look at them.”
Alex looked down at her chest with a penetrating stare. Tingling heat suffused her and an odd sensation fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Her anger soon gave way to confusion and she dropped her hands. She glared up at him in challenge, not that he noticed.
His sun-bronzed hand covered her breast and then squeezed. Heat speared through the fabric and into the soft flesh cupped in his palm. Kat inhaled, stunned.
“So, Kit-Kat, underneath all that armor you hide behind, you have breasts,” Alex said, his expression bemused. “Though hardly full-grown, as you say.”
The old endearment that rolled off his tongue warmed Kat briefly—he had not called her thus in eons—but his insult rankled.
Kat lashed out. “I’m not a kitten, so you may stop stroking me like one!”
Alex cursed and dropped his hand as if burned. His face turning red, he blustered, “Get your horse while I dress. ’Tis growing late, we should leave anon. Why your father allows you to roam the woods alone is beyond baffling. Were I him, I would have tanned your arse long ago.” So said, Alex turned his back on her, clearly expecting compliance.
At his condescending words, all the anxiety and fear for her ailing father she had managed to suppress over the past weeks threatened to overwhelm her. It was too much. White-hot fury erupted inside her, consuming her, and she launched herself at Alex.
Pounding her fists against his back, she screamed, “You arrogant sod, how dare you criticize my father. He is the kindest, most honorable man I know and you have no right to judge him. He is worth a hundred of you!”
Alex turned around, grabbed her flailing arms, and pulled her to his chest. “Easy now, Kit-Kat. I meant no offense. Your father is the best man I know. Forgive me.”
His compassionate understanding opened a rift in the solid façade she had built to hide her fear from Montclair’s people, and she began to sob in his arms. He stiffened, and then clutched her tighter. Never once had she let him see her cry, for she only showed the world the side of her that was strong, brave, and confident.
Now, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, her face buried against the comforting warmth of his chest and steady beating heart.
Alex rubbed his hands up and down her back, murmuring words of comfort. “Easy, love, don’t cry. Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Your father is strong. Easy, now,” he continued in this vein until her sobs quieted to hiccoughing sighs.
When she calmed at last, she breathed in the pleasurable scent of his sandalwood soap and masculine sweat. His chest rose and fell beneath her ear, the beat of his heart a stirring melody. With each deep inhalation of his breath, his muscled strength brushed her young breasts. That odd feeling in her gut stirred again.
She drew away, awkward and embarrassed, blaming her unusual emotional display for the disturbing sensations. Kat quickly turned her back to him, wiping away her tears with her fists.
A warm touch on her shoulder startled her.
“Come, your father no doubt is wondering where you have disappeared to,” Alex said gently. “I’ll send someone back later to get the two remaining brigands and make arrangements for their burial. But I need to dress first.” He pointed to the rock where his clothes were folded and started towards it.
Strands of her hair hung in her eyes, and with an impatient swipe of her arm, she shoved them