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Nicholas knew he should stop after that one kiss.

He’d meant to, but she tasted like summer honey and autumn spice.

Shock ran through him—and something else.

Desire. With an oath, Nicholas twisted his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss.

He heard her soft gasp, knew a swift, grim satisfaction, and then he felt her entire body quiver as his mouth explored the curve of her lips with rough, demanding thoroughness. He took his time, tasting and savoring.

“Arianne,” he muttered at last, lifting his head, letting her breathe, but before she could speak, he backed her against the hard stone wall, held her there helpless, and kissed her yet again.

He didn’t want to stop. Was damned if he would stop…

Unless she wanted him to…

Her full, soft breasts were pressed against him, straining, yearning. He felt her tremble in his arms like a wild creature.

Careful, he warned himself, even as he claimed her mouth still, ruthless with the wanting of it. A voice inside shouted that it was nearly too late for caution.

Then, suddenly, without warning, he pulled back. Her eyes were shining, her lips bruised. She stared at him in dazed wonder and rising joy.

His sanity flooded back.

“Arianne, go.”

“No.” She flung her arms around his neck.

He disengaged them, his blood beating hotly in his temples.

“Go!”

“I am staying. I…”

He wheeled away from her, then immediately sprang back.

He gripped her by the arms, not gently, his lean face dangerous in that dim and silent chamber.

“If you stay, I can’t answer for what will happen.

I’m a strong man.” He gave a bitter half laugh.

“I’ve survived worse dungeons than the one far beneath us in the bowels of this castle.

I’ve survived whippings and beatings, starvation, bitter cold, and war—but I cannot survive you.

The wanting of you…needing of you…not being able to have you… ”

“Have me. Take me. I’m yours,” she whispered and threw her arms around his neck again, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him.

A sweet kiss. An innocent, giving, yearning kiss that stirred something previously untouched inside him and sent the fire raging even more intensely until, abruptly, Nicholas knew he had to pull away.

He held her at arm’s length, reining in with a supreme act of will the tattered remnants of his self-control.

“This is wrong, Ari.” His voice was thick, yet dogged. “Wrong. You know nothing of men, of the world. You’re in love with some boy you knew long ago, some wild, heedless daredevil you admired from afar…”

“Yes—and no! I loved you then, loved him then—but you’re not that boy anymore.

I know that. He’s gone forever. You’re not that boy, and I’m not that skinny, freckled child who followed after you.

Look at me, Nicholas.” She raised her chin, her eyes bright as stars, defiant, compelling. “I’m a woman, a grown woman.”

He groaned and raked a hand through his hair. That she was. A beautiful woman. With her lush, pouting lips, her brilliant eyes, her creamy, flawless skin. And hair softer than velvet and sweeter-smelling than the wildest of forest flowers.

“And I love the man I see before me,” she went on in a whisper that tore at his heart. “I would trust my life to you, give my life for you. I love you, Nicholas of Dinadan. I always have. And now, now more than ever, I always will.”

Firm and stubborn she stood there, a slender, incredibly lovely woman reaching out to him. Giving, loving, hoping.

“I was wrong about you before…in the cottage. Those things I said. You are a true friend to my brother. You’re risking everything for Marcus. For me. I beg forgiveness for misjudging you.”

“Arianne, if I stay, if I kiss you again…I won’t stop…not until I’ve had you, taken you…”

“Please.” She laughed shakily, reaching up to drag her fingers through his hair, to stroke his face. “Take me. I want you to…”

“By God, you’ll wed me when this is over. If we live we’ll take our vows. It will be forever. Answer me now, yes or no.”

Arianne tugged his head down toward hers. “You make it sound like a threat.” Her laughter was soft, spilling over him like sun-warmed honey as she traced her finger gently, teasingly, around his lips.

“It’s a vow. A vow of honor.”

Nicholas pulled her against him. As his hand closed over her breast, Arianne’s eyes widened with newly discovered pleasure.

“Forever,” she squeaked.

“You won’t change your mind.” It was a statement as his thumb found her nipple.

“I…never change my mind…Nicholas,” she managed and then closed her eyes in pure pleasure as his mouth devoured hers again.

When they sank down on the corner pallet, it was as one.

Her body was aflame everywhere he touched, and he touched everywhere.

With furious, exquisite passion they clung together, shedding tunics and hauberk and breeches and chemises and hose, their bodies hot and feverish despite the chill easing off the stone walls.

By candlelight they kissed and touched and tasted. Neither knew what the morrow would bring. They might have only this one night.

Arianne’s hands slid down his powerful back, and her fingers paused as she discovered the many scars embedded in his flesh.

“Nicholas!”

“It’s nothing, sweet. It doesn’t matter.”

“But these are whip scars…”

“From when I was imprisoned…by men who did Julian’s bidding.” He was trailing kisses down her throat. “They fell upon me after I was wounded in a battle in Chessperon. They brought me to a dungeon in the far marshy reaches of the land. I was thrown in prison, beaten…”

Her mouth and eyes were wide with horror.

Nicholas brushed a kiss on the top of her nose. He spoke gently. “Ari, don’t think about it.”

“That’s why you weren’t here sooner,” she murmured brokenly, clutching his shoulders.

“I only recently escaped. I came as soon as I got word of your pleas.”

“Nicholas, forgive me, forgive me. I wronged you…my poor dear.”

“Don’t pity me, Arianne.” He caught her against him and cupped a warm, strong hand under her breast. The kisses he pressed against her throat, and then lower, to the swell of her breasts, heated her flesh. “At this moment I am the luckiest of men.”

This time when he claimed her mouth with his, the kiss nearly blocked the horrid images from her mind.

It swept through her, wild and possessive and demanding, and she gave herself up to it, but far beneath the sheer ardent passion of the moment, love and need and tenderness burned.

As her mouth parted beneath the onslaught of his, as she slipped her arms around him and drew him close, closer still, love poured from her heart, open and free and giving.

It wrapped them both in a cloak that no wind or breath of coldness could penetrate.

As they drew together on the pallet, he gave to her his strength, his courage, his love, and she gave tenderness and warmth and healing.

They rocked together in that cold, uncertain night, while the candle sputtered and the wind sighed at the window, and destiny waited beyond the walls of the chamber.