Velvet Angel Read online

  “Excuse me,” she whispered as she swept past Miles on her way back to Roger.

  Miles caught her in his arms, pulling her close to him.

  When Elizabeth saw that he was smiling at her with such a knowing little grin, she brought her elbow down hard into his ribs and was rewarded with his whoosh of pain. “I hate you, Montgomery!” she yelled into his face. “You’ve made me beg and cry and taken all my pride.” She tried to hit him again but he pinned her arms to her side and she couldn’t move.

  “No, Montgomery,” he said, moving his lips near hers. “You love me. You love me so much you’re willing to beggar yourself for me. I’ve made you cry in passion and I’ve made you cry tears of love.”

  “You’ve humiliated me.”

  “As you’ve done to me.” He held her as she struggled against him. “Every woman has come to me easily but only you have made me work. Only with you have I been angry, jealous, possessive. You were given to me and you are mine, Elizabeth, and never again will you be allowed to forget it.”

  “I never did—” she began but he cut her off by kissing her. Once his lips touched hers, she was lost. She could no more argue with him than she could have run away.

  His arms loosened their grip on her just long enough for her to slide her arms about his neck and pull him even closer.

  “Never, never forget it again, Montgomery,” he whispered by her ear. “You will belong to me always—in this century and in the next. Forever!”

  Elizabeth barely heard him as she stood on tiptoe and raised her mouth to his.

  She had no idea how much she had missed him physically. He was the only man on earth she could be with so trustingly, the only man she wasn’t wary of. All the years of holding herself in reserve were showing themselves in her eagerness, her ferocity. She put her hands in his hair, feeling it curl about her fingers, and pulled his head closer.

  A low, throaty laugh came from Miles. “A tree you said? Take the woman against a tree?” he said.

  Miles knew what she wanted—not a sweet, gentle lovemaking but one of all the fury she felt. His hands began tearing at her clothes, one hand on the ties of her linen underwear, the other on his own trunk hose. Elizabeth kept kissing him, her mouth wrapped around his, tongues entangled.

  When her back slammed into a tree, she merely blinked and applied her teeth to Miles’s neck, tearing at his skin as if she meant to flay him.

  Miles lifted her, put her legs about his waist, her skirt bunched between them. Neither of them cared for the niceties of removing their clothes. His hands on her bottom, he lifted her, set her down on his shaft with the force of a falling anchor.

  Elizabeth gasped, buried her face in Miles’s neck and held on for dear life as his strong arms lifted her up and down. Her head went back as she felt a scream building inside her. Sweat began to drip off Miles and he rubbed the salty stuff on her, plastering her hair to the both of them.

  With one last, fierce thrust that sent Elizabeth into an ecstasy, Miles pulled her to him, shuddering, his hot body erupting again and again.

  Elizabeth, her body tight, convulsing in waves of pleasure, felt quick tears in her eyes. Slowly she came back to earth, her legs feeling weak, aching from clasping Miles with every ounce of her strength.

  He leaned away to look at her, caressed her wet hair, kissed her temple. “I love you,” he said tenderly, then smiled roguishly. “And besides that you’re the best…”

  “I understand.” She laughed. “Now are you going to let me down or are you going to kill me against this tree?”

  With one more kiss, Miles set her feet on the ground and gave an ungentlemanly, prideful laugh when Elizabeth’s legs collapsed under her and he had to hold her to keep her from falling.

  “Braggart!” she hissed, clutching him, but she gave him a smile and kissed the hand holding her arm. “Am I really the best?” she asked as if it meant nothing to her. “You still find me attractive even after I’ve borne a child?”

  “Tolerably so,” Miles said seriously.

  Elizabeth laughed, smoothed her skirts and tried to regain her composure as they walked back to where Roger waited.

  Chapter 17

  THE THREE OF THEM WALKED TOGETHER FOR TWO DAYS and they were blissful ones for Elizabeth. There were nights of lovemaking and days of love. Miles gave her his complete attention. They held hands and talked softly or laughed uproariously at the silliest things. They made love beside a stream and later bathed in its icy water.

  Roger watched them with an air of aloofness, and sometimes Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt for the pain she knew she was causing him. A few times he made remarks about Miles’s unknightly behavior but Miles said that until he reached his relatives, he was a carefree peasant.

  Their progress was slow and the four-day journey on horseback was stretching into several more days on foot.

  On the fourth day, the trio left the roadside just before noon to rest and refresh themselves. Roger, after directing an unnoticed look of contempt toward his sister and Miles, walked away from them, deeper into the forest. When he’d first heard his sister had been taken prisoner, his pain had been great—but now he could see that he’d lost her much more completely than if she were a prisoner.

  Reminiscing over his problems, he walked past the earth-torn edge of the little gully without paying the least attention. He was several feet past the obvious signs of a struggle before he recognized them. Turning back, he examined the earth.

  He’d been walking along the edge of a steep-sided bank that fell away to a stream of rushing water and, clearly, on the edge were the signs of someone falling. Often, after a battle, Roger’d had to search for his men who were wounded and lost, and now his knight’s instincts rose like the hairs on his neck. Immediately, he started down the side, skidding in his haste.

  What he saw at the bottom was not what he expected. Sitting on a rotten piece of log, her feet hidden under a jumble of large rocks, was a pretty young woman, richly dressed in burgundy velvet trimmed about the neckline with large golden amethysts. Her dark eyes, almost too big for her face, looked up at Roger with pleasure.

  “I knew you’d come,” she said in English that was pleasantly and softly accented.

  Roger blinked once in confusion but ignored her remark. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

  She smiled at him, making her eyes turn liquid. She looked to be quite young, a child really, wearing a dress much too old for her. Dark hair peeped from under a pearl-embroidered hood. More pearls draped down the front of her dress.

  “My foot is caught and I cannot move it.”

  Women! Roger thought, moving to examine the rocks that pinned her feet. “You must have heard me above. Why didn’t you call out to me?”

  “Because I knew you’d come for me.”

  Insane, Roger thought. The poor girl was possessed by spirits. “When I lift this rock I want you to move your foot. Do you understand me?” he said as if talking to an idiot.

  She merely smiled in answer and when the rock was moved, she pulled her foot from under it.

  Her right foot was pinned differently and Roger saw that if he moved one stone, another would fall and perhaps break her ankle. She was a little thing and he doubted her fragile bones could stand much.

  “Do not be afraid to tell me,” she whispered. “I’m not a stranger to pain.”

  Roger turned to look at her, at her big eyes looking at him with so much trust, and that trust both frightened him and made him feel powerful.

  “What is your name?” he asked, studying and considering the rocks around her little foot.

  “Christiana, my lord.”

  Roger’s head came up sharply. His dirty peasant’s clothes had not fooled her, so perhaps she wasn’t stupid after all. “Chris then.” He smiled. “May I borrow your eating dagger? I’ll put together something to hold those rocks while I move these.” He pointed.

  She handed him the knife quickly and he bit his lips to keep from cautioning her