Infamous Read Online Free Page B

sounded in her head. She thrust the jug of ale at him and fled.
    His attention obviously engaged, the earl set the jug on the table, detached himself from his men, and followed the maid.
    Jory’s feet did not stop moving until she was outside. She took several deep breaths, filling her lungs with fresh night air.
    â€œPardon, demoiselle. If you desire some company, you need look no farther. I am Guy de Beauchamp, at your service.”
    She turned and looked up at him. “Warwick?”
    With some amusement he acknowledged, “Aye, I am Warwick.” He held out his hand to her.
    She tore her gaze from his face and looked at his hand. It was large, calloused, with long shapely fingers, and it was compelling beyond measure. How can I refuse him? He possesses an invisible force that draws me. Her impulsive nature willfully banished her trepidation. She placed her hand in his and he curled his fingers about it. She felt his warmth seep into her, and something far more potent: She felt his power.
    â€œWhat shall I call you, little maid?”
    â€œMy name is Mar—” She stopped, appalled that she had almost blurted her true identity. She watched his mouth curve and thought it beautiful.
    â€œMargret? Will you walk with me, Margret?”
    â€œWhere, my lord?”
    â€œWherever you will.”
    His voice was so deep and lyrical, it insinuated itself inside her. She was acutely aware that Guy de Beauchamp had an innate French charm and gallantry that set her pulses racing madly.
    She thought of walking by the river, then with great daring, changed her mind. “I should like to walk in the garden.”
    His fingers tightened about her hand. “I shall follow wherever you lead, demoiselle.”
    She knew he was telling her what she wanted to hear. He wasn’t blatantly lying, merely blurring the truth. For she knew down to her bones that he would do the leading. And she would let him.
    Hand in hand they entered the Upper Ward and walked along the terrace that took them past the State Apartments. They went through a stone archway that led to the formal garden. The royal garden was walled and private, but Jory was familiar with a hidden entrance. She slipped her hand from his and with nimble fingers unlatched the gate.
    Once they were inside, Warwick did not recapture her hand; instead he slid his arm about her shoulders. His closeness coupled with her own daring sent shivery excitement spiraling inside her, and her senses became drenched with the intoxicating perfume of night-blooming flowers and his potent male scent.
    Their footsteps slowed as they came upon an inviting garden seat tucked beneath the cascading branches of a willow tree. The moonlight bathed them in haunting silver and dark shadows. Jory gasped as his powerful hands encircled her waist and lifted her to stand on the bench, eliminating their difference in height.
    His dark eyes studied her heart-shaped face with great intensity. “You are exceedingly young, ma petite .”
    â€œI am eighteen!” she protested.
    His mouth curved. “A delightful age of innocence.”
    â€œYes…no! Perhaps,” she added provocatively.
    â€œAn innocence that thirsts for a deeper knowledge and hungers for a wider experience…perhaps?”
    â€œYes, indeed, my lord,” she murmured breathlessly.
    His long fingers cupped her face, holding her captive. His mouth hovered above hers for a full tantalizing minute before his lips touched hers. She closed her eyes and swayed, intoxicated by the taste of his kiss.
    His arms swept about her to steady her; then he lifted her and held her against his hard body. This time he took full possession of her mouth, easily persuading her to open her lips to his questing tongue. He thrust inside the velvet cave of her mouth, tasting her honeyed sweetness. He allowed her body to slowly slide down his until her feet once more touched the bench. Then his hands caressed her back with