A woman longing for a place to belong…
A warrior prince bent on vengeance…
A woman and a man torn apart by honor and duty…
Devastated by her father’s plans to use her, Sianna DiSanti finds herself abducted by his sworn enemy. Though Kyne Cathor wants vengeance against Edric DiSanti, he is drawn to Sianna’s compassionate strength. Can Sianna’s gentle touch heal Kyne’s wounded soul and fill his empty heart?
Excerpt
When he reached down for the woman, Kyne had braced himself, but unlike when he touched her before, this time he sensed nothing. Her fingers felt cool and fragile in his grip.
The heat of her at his back distracted him from any other thoughts. Through his heavy cape he felt her every movement - the shift of her hips as she eased the strain of riding, the turn of her head, the press of her soft breasts, the brush of her slippered feet against his calves and the feel of her small hands on his waist. Her sweet, feminine scent drifted under his nose. His body reacted, tightening in spite of his mind's objections. Disgust that he should desire this woman pooled on his tongue.
She shivered.
"Are you cold?" How could she be? Self-loathing made him hot despite the crisp mountain air.
"No. But I am hungry. You did not allow me time for first meal. Is starvation to be the punishment for my alleged crimes?" As if in emphasis, her stomach rumbled.
Kyne restrained his smile at her tart words. "Reach into my pack, and you'll find a bag of dried fruit and a skin of watered wine. Calm yourself. Until you are judged, you'll not be mistreated."
She squirmed behind him as she hunted through his pack. Her shoulder bumped his hip and her voice was muffled as she answered. 'Is that supposed to reassure me? Already I've been abducted, dragged from the threshold of my bed chamber in my nightwear, carted through the rain, terrorized and bruised, accused of foul deeds and threatened with horrible retribution. But I'm not supposed to worry because I'm safe until you see fit to be my judge and pronounce sentence on me?" She straightened and spoke her last words directly into his ear. 'Forgive me if I prefer to remain agitated
The ancient kings of Whitehawk were all too aware of the temptation of magic. They could feel its threat, a presence in their courts, a serpent slithering at their feet, even entering into their beds.
To de
