Stranger in My Arms

“A troubled soul,” the dowager said, with a smile that combined irony and affection and a hint of challenge that bewildered Lara. “Well, that is your forte, is it not?”

He gave her a devil-may-care smile. “When I make love to you,” he told her, “you'll be more than willing. You'll beg for it.”

She laughed unsteadily. “You're too arrogant for words!”

“You'll beg,” he repeated. “And you'll love every moment of it.”

Lara closed her eyes briefly.

“Dear Father in Heaven,” she said under her breath. “There are so many who need Your mercy and protection. Help me to know what to do for them. Amen.”

He leaned his cheek against the cool, glossy panel and closed his eyes. He craved her body, her sweetness, her hands on his body, her legs open to him, her throat tightening with feminine cries as he pleasured her…He shoved the thoughts away, but it was too late, he was left with a painful erection that wouldn't subside.

How long would it take for her to accept him? What the devil would she require? If only she would assign him some herculean task for him to accomplish and prove himself. Tell me what to do, he thought, emitting a slight groan, and by God, I'll do it ten times over.

I'll want you forever, came a nagging, yearning voice from inside, startling Hunter with its insistence. He wanted this. He wanted her. He would take his place here and fight for it as long as he had breath left.

Lara refused the offer of food but accepted a glass of lemonade, welcoming the sour shock of it on her tongue.