“Is this how you fight all your opponents?” she asked, trying to locate him again as he stepped behind her at each turn.
“Only the beautiful ones,” a warm voice said in her ear.
Spinning the moment he spoke, she latched onto his tunic with her free hand. As mischief danced in his eyes, a long-forgotten memory bubbled to the surface. A childhood game of blind man’s bluff with her father. He’d always been full of mirth and had teased her much the same way.
“Perhaps you’d be better employed as the court jester,” she said.
“You may be right. I’ll inquire about the position the next time I see the king.”
As if he’d ever met the king. Stepping back, she brought her weapon around once again. He blocked blow after blow as she forced him toward a huge elm.
“I will disarm you,” she uttered through gritted teeth.
“Dear lady, you disarmed me long ago.” He said it with such affection, such warmth, it caught her off-guard, and her blade lowered a fraction.
At that precise moment, he twisted his weapon with hers, swiftly whirled her around and pinned her against the tree. They were both out of breath, bodies pressed against one another, their rapiers pinned between them, the back of his fingers resting against her right breast.
Hoping he hadn’t noticed the intimate placement of his hand, she struggled to break free.
His hold was solid.
Her mind raced. If she could use her powers, she’d draw a knife in an instant, or pull down a tree, or command a rock to—
“You smell like lavender,” he whispered, his eyes inches from hers.
“You smell like—” She took a whiff, expecting something repugnant. Instead, spices and mint filled her senses. She could almost taste cinnamon, and her mouth started to water.
“I smell like what?” he asked, his eyes teasing.
Kate was not about to tell him he smelled delicious. “I didn’t know bandits bathed.”
“We are not all as you would expect.” He winked and devilish dimples popped on both stubbled cheeks. “I believe I have won the point, fair lady. Do you concede?”
The idea of kissing him was becoming far less disagreeable, but she refused to give in. She struggled again to no avail.
Easing up, she said, “It appears I underestimated you.”
He smiled.
She smiled back.
He relaxed his grip. Exactly what she had counted on. Mustering up her strength and a knee, she shoved him off. As he struggled to regain his balance, she rushed forward, caught his blade with hers and executed a move to free it from his grasp.
In expert fashion, he recovered and countered with a twist of metal and will. Her weapon flew through the air, leaving her without blade, breath or speech.
Kate looked around at the men, the sword, Bregovi.
“Considering another play, fair one?” he asked.
“You agreed. Safe passage.” She could not be considering this.
He bowed in acknowledgment and threw the borrowed blade back to Wolfe.
“The bargain stands.”
“Yes, well, we’ve already discussed my view of your bargain.”
“A misguided view, indeed,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “For I promise to do all in my power to ensure you are satisfied with the exchange.”
Satisfied. The word hung in the air. Taunting her. She wondered just what ensuring her satisfaction would entail and grew dizzy—either from fear or excitement, possibly both.
Whichever the case, she had little choice and once again uttered, “Very well, collect your kiss.”
He smiled lazily, started forward and halted. Reaching down, he slid a dagger from his boot and tossed it away. The men laughed and she couldn’t help but join in.
“At least you learn from your mistakes,” she said.
“Always.” He stepped closer.
Her knees wobbled.
He moved nearer still.
Kate drew in a breath and something fluttered in her stomach.
Guards and bandits cheered.
Bregovi smiled at their audience, then turned full attention back to her, a grin playing at his lips.
His eyes were full of magik and spells and mystery. Emerald pools flecked with gold. He held her gaze. Intimate. Intense. Hovering just a step away.
Waiting, while his lips and eyes beckoned.
Waiting, while a hint of spice teased her nose.
Just waiting until the suspense mounted to an unbearable degree. Unable to withstand the infernal tension another moment, she rushed forward to get the blasted kiss over with.
Unfortunately, she misjudged the distance.
Her lips crashed into his with such force she knocked him backward. But instead of toppling over—as she would have done under a similar attack—he grabbed her arms and softened his mouth over hers.
Kate had not expected his lips to be so gentle. Or so warm. She had not expected to kiss him at all beyond a short peck. But he had kissed her. He was kissing her. Quite thoroughly.
Rather than protest, as any lady would, she not only let the marauder invade, she latched onto his tunic. And instead of releasing her, as any gentleman should, he not only claimed his kiss, he enticed her to join in, luring her toward dark, unknown waters.
The moment she considered letting the tide take her, his mouth left hers.
Dazed, confused, and slightly disappointed, she realized it was over. As the fog cleared, she concluded the spell must have blocked her good sense along with her powers, for she never would have allowed such liberties otherwise.
Then his hurried breath whispered over her as he leaned in and kissed her again.
She forgot all about spells and liberties.
His bewitching lips gently pillaged, cunningly teased. Persuading. Coaxing. Inviting. Torn between want and should, she tightened her grip on his shirt to steady her legs.
Completely unaware of her plight—or perhaps keenly aware of it—the man’s hands moved to her back and drew her closer. Too close.
As he nibbled on her lower lip, an unsettling excitement began to build. The man knew kisses like she knew magik.
In an effort to create a safer distance, she slid her palms to his chest.
He sucked in a breath.
She wavered.
Then his heart jumped under her fingers, and she forgot her purpose and leaned toward him instead. As his nimble tongue swept over hers, delicious warmth washed through her. If there was a reason she was supposed to resist, she couldn’t recall it.
Finally, she let the current take her.
Sinking into him, she boldly accepted his invitation, teasing and tasting in return.
His grip tightened, her morals loosened, and their wicked kiss deepened. Steamy. Claiming. Endless.
While his mouth deftly made love to hers, her mind whispered that the mischievous man would be an entertaining companion. In her countless fantasies of a life free from Morten, she’d never imagined it could include passion and laughter. Was it possible? Could a chance encounter with a rogue lead to more? Had the gods finally intervened?
Her heart grew light at the possibility. Her uncle would never look for her among bandits. Could she convince Bregovi to hide her? Would he? Contemplating the boon he’d likely ask for such a favor started a tantalizing ache low in her belly.
While the debate raged on in her brain and thrilling sensations swirled through her body, she became faintly aware of whispers among the men.
“Edmund?” It was Princess Rachel’s voice. Surprised. “Edmund!” No, not surprised. Scolding.