Page 1 of A Savior for Branwen (The Welsh Rebels #2)

S he had kissed him.

She had kissed him , not the other way around.

Branwen touched her lips lightly, where the faint taste of virile male and spice lingered. Why had she done such a thing? What had happened to her? She did not kiss men, ever! She hated men, she hated the feel of their lips against hers, the heat of their tongues invading her mouth, the possessiveness of their hands roving over her body.

She hated everything about them.

And yet she had kissed Matthew Hunter, here in the solar, for all to see.

It might be that he would have kissed her first if she had not pre-empted it. It was a possibility she could not dismiss out of hand. There had been desire dancing in his eyes, and he had leaned in toward her more than was proper, but she couldn’t be sure he would have actually kissed her. Usually she waited until there was no other choice, until she knew she couldn’t escape before she resigned herself to letting a man kiss her. But with Matthew …

With Matthew she had been unable to resist.

Why him?

It wasn’t as if he were a friend she had known all her life and trusted not to cross a boundary, or a meek, unassuming man who made her feel safe in her ability to refuse him her favors at the last moment if need be. No, he was not a friend, but a stranger, an Englishman who despised Welsh people, and there was nothing meek or unassuming about him. Quite the opposite. He was the epitome of the man who liked to be in charge, who tumbled women into bed whenever the urge seized him, who didn’t wait for their agreement before pouncing, who did not allow his lovers to make the first move.

And yet that was exactly what he’d done with her.

He’d let her decide what would happen.

And it had taken her little more than a heartbeat to decide that what would happen would be a scorching kiss, the likes of which she had never thought she could or would want to share with anyone.

What would have happened if her friend Esyllt’s daughter and stepdaughter had not walked in on them? Surely she would have come back to her senses and pushed him away? Surely she wouldn’t have demanded more, here in the middle of Castell Esgyrn?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t be sure.

One thing was certain, however. She could not afford to see him again, or at least, not alone. If she kept out of the way for a few days, he might well go back to England. His brother Connor, Lord Sheridan, regularly sent him on missions there. Perhaps it would not be long before he asked him to go again? Should she ask Esyllt to suggest to her husband that their English estate needed checking? Yes, perhaps.

Then her moment of folly would be forgotten.