Next we have another excerpt, steamier excerpt from What a Scoundrel Wants, the Zebra debut from Carrie’s Lofty. Don’t forget to read the first excerpt, and check out this Duck Flash for contest info!
In this dazzling, original tale, Carrie Lofty imagines a new chapter in the well-loved Robin Hood fable. Meet Robin’s rakish nephew, Will Scarlet, a man whose talents with the sword and the ladies are legendary–until his desire for one woman changes everything.
A Passionate Lover…
A swordsman for the Sheriff of Nottingham, Will Scarlet has finally emerged from his famous uncle’s shadow. But when he’s unwittingly drawn into a bloody battle between the Sheriff and a nobleman, it’s impossible to tell friend from foe. A woman’s screams lead Will straight into the carnage to save her–but the ravishing young lady is not the helpless maid she appears to be…
An Amorous Lady…
Meg of Keyworth lost her sight to illness years ago, but that hasn’t stopped her mission to save her imprisoned sister, who’s been arrested by none other than Will Scarlet. Meg wants to hate Will for betraying her family, but he sparks heated desire in her heart–a desire that only he can satisfy. Meg is lovely and loving, and bedding her is sensual bliss. To please her in every way is what he wants most, for Will knows he will cherish her forever….
Excerpt
“I should examine your shoulder when you finish chopping wood,” Meg said.
“Why?”
Because I enjoy torturing myself. Because I want to touch you.
She swallowed heavily. “To check for signs of infection.”
“If you want me out of my tunic, you only have to ask.”
“I should let it fester until your arm rots,” she said, her cheeks on fire.
“That’s hardly charitable.”
“Better than you deserve.”
Will leaned closer, slowly, his breath warming her cheek. “Open your mouth.”
Her lungs shuddered to a halt. “What?”
“I said, open your mouth. I have something for you.”
“You’re being absurd.” Her heart was a terrified animal, shivering and demanding flight. But her feet refused to move.
“Trust that at this moment I have no notion of doing you harm.”
The soft timbre of his voice nestled seductive images behind her eyes. She pinched them shut. “And why should I trust you?”
“I fear your ability to transform into a ball-twisting wench.”
“You deserved that.”
“Blessed be, woman, no man deserves that.” Will edged closer still, his hair tickling the skin of her forehead. He slipped a hand around the base of her neck, softly kneading and massaging her tense muscles. She may as well have been a kitten held by its scruff, so completely did he imprison her. “Open your mouth before I have to hold you down and pry your lips apart.”
Every sharp retort and defensive reply shriveled to naught. She swallowed the pathetic whimper that wanted to beg for mercy, some reprieve from the onslaught. First Hugo and his hideous, baiting insults. Then Scarlet–the worry and guesses and vain attempts to understand him. Protecting against his influence was like trying to catch smoke. He was some powerful potion in masculine form, intent on driving her to madness.
“Open for me, Meg.”
The intimate nature of his command shocked her. Dread flared, digging into her bones and settling between her legs. A throbbing ache blossomed, her body thriving on a spiteful blend of danger and curiosity. Heat licked over her skin like flames, setting good sense ablaze.
She opened her mouth.
He touched his finger to her tongue. An explosion of sweetness enveloped her mouth, nearly buckling her knees with the unexpected pleasure. Thought fled. She closed her lips around his finger and sucked, discovering every last crystal of sugar he offered.
Scarlet pulled his finger free. His breath was fast, strained, and very close. “More?”
She gave the smallest nod. He petted her lower lip, painting tiny grains along her thin, sensitive skin. She caught his finger again and licked the sweetness. The hand at the back of her neck tightened, near to pain. A combination of man and sugar swathed her tongue, slid down her throat, set her body on fire. Her breasts felt heavy and hot. A familiar hollowness opened inside her, aching to be filled. He offered more sugar. But she wanted more of him.
She swirled her tongue around his finger, sucking again. He moaned and shuddered. She could take no more. Burrowing eager fingers into a shaggy length of hair, she dragged his face to hers. Lips met in a heady explosion of heat and sweetness. His tongue thrust into her mouth. The syrupy remains of the sugar mingled with his own spice. His arms circled her back, deepening the kiss. Tight nipples crushed against the solid leather shielding his chest, arousing and frustrating her in turn.
Her hips found his. The insistent ridge of his erection offered proof of his desire. He groaned her name and arched her back, dusting quick, hard kisses along the length of her neck. She resented the high bodice that barred him from traveling lower, but flicks of his tongue wet a trail to one ear. He nibbled and suckled, threading his fingers into her hair. Lightheaded, she clung to his body as if a heartsick year had passed since she last held him, since he last held her.
Will.
And like a drowning woman finding a single gulp of air, she found herself–and ran.
Copyright Carrie Lofty 2008
