Burke’s kiss awakened a dragon within Alys that she would have preferred to leave slumbering until her dying day.
Indeed, his kiss was everything she remembered and more. Burke was gentle, as always he had been, his touch both strong and tender. He coaxed her response, the cursed knave, and made her want him with an unruly desire. That unwelcome desire gave credence to Aunt’s tales of Alys’s legacy from her mother, tales Alys would have liked to prove false.
To Alys’s embarrassment, ’twas Burke who broke their embrace, Burke who lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “I beg your pardon for being so bold,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a line along her rib. “But I could resist you no longer.” He smiled warmly down at her. “Or perhaps I had to assure myself that the sweet maiden of
