by Penelope Neri
The moment Lord Brian Fitzwarren saw the saucy, slender wench bathing in the river he could not staunch his desire. Her fresh, sun-warmed skin beckoned for his touch. Her flawless, seductive face invited him to rain fiery kisses along her delicate curves. That she was his enemy's daughter no longer mattered. The masterful lord resolved that somehow he would claim the irresistible beauty as his own.
While she frolicked in the sparkling water, tawny-haired Maegan felt she was being watched . . . then she met the smoldering gleam in Brian's smoke gray eyes. Her cheeks flushed with shame - but her blood pounded hotly in her veins as he boldly gazed upon her body. Shivering with fear and delight, Maegan fought what she instinctively knew: she could never let herself love her foe, but their paths would forever be entwined, their lives entangled, their Heart's Enchanted
Brian turned slowly to face her. As he did so, Maegan released the sable pelt and let it fall at her feet. Moonlight bathed her silken-clad body as she stood quivering before him, aware of the smoldering smoke-gray of his eyes raking her body. A gust of chill wind snapped the pennants that streamed above them, and stirred the gleaming curtain of her hair about her shoulders.
He half-started toward her and then stopped, fists clenched at his sides, and she knew, with her woman's sixth sense, that she had won.
"Come here to me," he commanded, his voice thick.
Obediently, she padded across the tower walk toward him, eyes downcast, feet leaden. She stopped before him.
"Look at me!" he said sharply, and her head jerked up. Eyes awash with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling, she returned his gaze. A treacherous thrill of excitement coursed down her spine as she read the hunger in his eyes, and she swayed a little where she stood, damning her body for its treason. "Well?" he demanded. "What say you, wife?"
"I-I await your pleasure, my lord husband," she murmured brokenly.
With a muffled grown, he swept her up into his arms and strode with her from the battlements, down to the River Tower . . .
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