Lady Rowena's Ruin. Carol Townend

attractive. How strange, she wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t dreading his kiss. ‘We are not actually betrothed, Eric,’ she said as steadily as she could. ‘We are merely considering becoming betrothed. We have to see if we think we will make a good match.’

      His smile grew and his eyes danced. ‘As you say.’

      He lowered his head, still smiling, and Rowena’s fingers curled into the leather of his gambeson.

      Lightly, he kissed her forehead. Her stomach swooped. He kissed her temples equally lightly, and the muscles in her belly tightened. His musky male scent seemed familiar and something about it was sending messages to her brain, messages that spoke of safety. Of warmth. Of a haven in a world she had never understood.

      And then his lips found hers and Rowena could no longer think. Here was warmth and gentleness. She heard flurried breathing, hers. There wasn’t enough air. Her heart was racing and her fingers were itching to slide into his hair.

      Taking her by the waist, he pulled her flush against him. When she heard a very male murmur of satisfaction, she realised that she had gone up on her toes the better to reach him. Something about this man—his kiss, the careful way he was holding her—made her feel as though she wanted to climb into him. Gripped by shyness, she hid her face against his leather gambeson. What was wrong with her? She had been lost in that kiss. Lost. Not once had she thought of taking her vows. Not once had she thought of Mathieu.

      ‘Rowena.’ The humour in his voice eased both shyness and shame, and she opened her eyes to see him shaking his head at her. ‘Our marriage will be consummated quite soon, I believe.’

      Frowning, she drew back. ‘Sir, just because we have shared a kiss does not mean I will marry you. We have not yet decided, we might discover we loathe each other.’

      A dark brow lifted. He tucked a wayward curl back under her veil and crooked his arm at her. ‘As you say, my lady. Shall we go back into the hall and see what Helvise has found us in the way of refreshment?’