Return of the Rose Read Online Free Page B

he caught her in his arms and pulled her close. Close enough for her to feel the rise and fall of his chest and the heat of his body against hers. An eternity passed before she realized he wasn’t in any hurry to let go of her. She pushed at his chest. “Put me down!”
    Instead, he raised his foot to the fallen stool so she was straddled upon one very substantial thigh…her mouth mere inches from his brawny chest.
    “Let me go-or-or I will report you to your boss.”
    He looked amused by such a threat, but once again he failed to loosen his hold. Leaning forward, he covered her mouth with his as if it was his right to do so, as if he could do whatever he pleased, as if…
    His lips grazed over hers in a mere whisper, taking her breath away. Something stirred deep inside of her and heat spread through her like wildfire. His lips melded over hers and all thoughts of pushing him away evaporated. In that instant she knew that for this kiss alone she’d been sent to another century.
    He drew away too soon, prompting her to open her eyes. He stared down at her with dark, smoldering eyes…angry eyes, and then released his hold and dropped his foot to the floor.
    She staggered backward like a broken wind-up doll. Once she regained her balance, surprise turned to anger as she realized he’d dropped her on purpose.
    As his hands came to rest on his hips, his eyelids drooped lazily. “Now,” he said, his voice deep and rich with a full measure of conceit. “Perchance you have learned your lesson and will be more careful in the future as to where you wander without permission.”
    She clenched her teeth.
    “Unfortunately, I have important work to attend to,” he went on before she could reply. “Had you come at a more convenient time I would have been happy to further assist you in your schooling.”
    “In my schooling?”
    “Aye,” he said, examining his cuticles. “All new maidens who come to Braddock seek my instructions eventually. Though it would seem you are more eager than most. Perhaps another time.”
    “Of all the egotistical—” There he stood with that vainglorious smirk. “You think I came in here looking for you? Hoping to be trained ?”
    He didn’t need to respond. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he stood, in his cocky grin. What an idiot she was to let him kiss her like that. What was wrong with her? “Listen here, Mister conceited, arrogant man. I happen to be engaged to a very important man at Braddock Castle. My name is Lady—”
    A thin dirt-stained man came rushing into the room just then, nearly bowling her over. “You must come quickly. There is trouble…in the village,” the man said between breaths. “A small band of men without colors or crest”—he inhaled—”was spotted moments before the village went up in flames.”
    Both men bolted from the room leaving Morgan standing there like a fool, pointing her finger at no one. One minute she was letting the big oaf have a piece of her mind and in the next he was gone. Dispiritedly she glanced around the sparsely decorated room. A draw-leaf table, serving as a desk, sat before the hearth. The walls were ornamented with tapestries depicting men hunting in the woods. The men were dressed exactly like Otgar and his entourage.
    Drawn to the writing desk, she headed that way and slid her fingertips over the burled oak. The papers strewn about were scribbled with numbers. Obviously the arrogant man had been having trouble with his math. Assuming he was the castle’s accountant, she scanned the document and smiled triumphantly when she easily figured out what the problem was.
    As if she’d been living in the fifteenth century all of her life, she took hold of the feathered quill, dabbed its fine point into the inkwell, and made the necessary adjustments. Plunking the quill back into its holder, she left the room with a smile on her face.
    Upon returning to the hall, pandemonium greeted her. She dodged out of the way as frantic