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An Excerpt From: GENTLE WARRIOR
Copyright © SEDONIA GUILLONE, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
“Please, my lord,” she whispered. “Have me.”
She heard his breathing grow ragged. His eyes smoldered as he gazed on her. One breast was still
bare, willing him to bend and kiss it, the other, tingling exquisitely
under his calloused skin. He appeared to be waging an inner battle between
her seduction and something in his conscience.
He started to pull his hand away but Ariana
held him fast and gave a small whimper of protest.
“You owe me nothing, Ariana,” Karan said gruffly. “Galen should strike me down for
exacting a price to protect you. You are not my slave.” She stared into his
eyes, realizing his mistake. He saw her as his slave. In the palace, the
general had never used slaves, always refusing the queen’s offer of a
bed-slave at palace banquets. Ariana’s heart ached.
She was no longer a slave. Her slavery had ended with her beloved queen’s
wretched death. She loved Karan’s soul as she
appreciated his warrior’s body. These feelings were utterly new and had
closed over her like one of the giant waves her father’s boat used to
battle when he was fishing at sea. She felt her lip tremble and tears
gather in the corners of her eyes.
“I give myself to you willingly, Lord Karan,” she said in a near-whisper. “I know who you are
and I love you. I would follow you anywhere.”
Ariana waited for him to lean
forward and kiss her. She wanted him so badly to nuzzle her breasts and
cover her body with his. But he still watched her, a strange, twisted look
of guilt darkening his chiseled features. Her
panic mounted and she bit down on her lower lip, which trembled violently.
Suddenly, her control collapsed and she began to sob.
She lifted Karan’s hand from her breast and
brought it to her lips, showering the rough skin with kisses and her
desperate tears. Her anguish, borne so many lonely years with her grief
locked inside her, now spilled out, brought to the surface by Karan’s kindness. He had nursed her
the way her father had so many years ago whenever she was ill. When
she was an innocent girl, back before the horrors began.
Karan reached out and pulled
her into his arms, letting her soak his silky chest hair with her tears.
She clung to the warrior for a long time, with fistfuls of his tunic in her
clenched hands. She felt little and safe against him, in a way she hadn’t
since Natan had last comforted her. Karan stroked her hair and placed small kisses on the
top of her head where the scarlet tresses parted.
“Beautiful little woman,” she heard him murmur.
With each stroke on her hair, she felt her tears begin
to pass, leaving her heart cleansed and peaceful. Once again, she became
aware of the man who held her, of the way his chest hairs brushed her damp
cheek and his strength surrounded her. She breathed in the scents he
carried of wood smoke, animal skins and earth. With each breath, she felt
her body melt into his. Her lips were against his chest and she began to
dapple the broad muscles with soft, moist kisses, pressing her tongue to
the salt of his skin. She moved across his breast and feathered her tongue
over one of his nipples, eliciting a soft groan of pleasure from him.
Suddenly, she felt his hands grasp her arms. Gently but
firmly, he held her away from him.
She looked at him, wide-eyed, frightened that he was
about to turn her away even though he had seemed to want her.
“What is it, my lord?” she asked. “Don’t I please you?”
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