"I rather fancy her," he said. "You don't mind if I borrow her for a while, do you, Vaughan?" It wasn't really a request, not the way he said it.

Clenching her hands into fists, Kadie sent a pleading glance at Vaughan. He looked at her, his eyes filled with pity. "As you wish, my lord," he said, and vanished from sight.

Kadie stared at Saintcrow. She had been afraid of Vaughan, but that was nothing compared to the terror that gripped her when Saintcrow looked at her through those fathomless black eyes.

"Come along, Kadie Andrews." His gaze burned into hers, hotter than hellfire, yet strangely compelling. When he held out his hand, she dared not refuse.

With a predatory smile, his fingers – long and incredibly strong – closed over her own. A rush of preternatural power surrounded her. It was like being caught in the center of a tornado. The world spun out of focus. Darkness swallowed her.

When she came to her senses, she was in a large, square room, trapped in Rylan Saintcrow's embrace. Kadie didn't move, could scarcely breathe. He was close. So close. His power engulfed her, a mysterious pulsing energy unlike anything she had experienced before. His unique scent, alien and yet somehow enticing, filled her with an emotion she couldn't define. When she risked a look into his eyes, she felt herself falling, tumbling from this world into times past where knights on horseback vied for supremacy in the lists. She saw brightly colored banners fluttering in the breeze, the spires of an ancient castle, swords flashing in sunlight, weary men gathered around campfires. It took her a moment to realize she was seeing scenes from his past. How was that possible?

When he released her from his gaze, she wriggled out of his arms. Retreating several steps, she glanced at her surroundings. A fireplace large enough to hold a horse dominated the room. The tables were made of heavy wood, the sofas covered in a dark green fabric. Oriental rugs covered the floor. A tapestry, its colors faded by time, hung from one of the walls. An ornate bookcase took up space on another. She ran her hand over the suit of armor in the corner, wondering if he had worn it in the Crusades. A pair of crossed swords hung over the fireplace. She jumped back, startled, when flames sprang to life in the hearth.

Wrapping her arms around herself in an age–old feminine gesture, she dared a glance at Saintcrow. "What are you going to do with me?"

She had intended to speak boldly; instead, her voice came out sounding as frightened as she felt. Belonging to Darrick Vaughan was suddenly very appealing.

"What does any man want with a woman?"

She didn't like the sound of that at all. Gathering her courage, she lifted her chin. "You're not a man."

"You think not?" He took a step toward her. "Shall I prove it to you here and now?"

"No!"

His deep black eyes lit up with amusement. "Would you rather be with Vaughan?"

"Yes."

He lifted one brow. "What is it about him, I wonder, that the women find so appealing?"

Kadie stared up at him, mute, her heart racing like that of an animal caught in a trap. He towered over her, as solid as a block wall. He might not be a man in the usual sense of the word, but he was undeniably, blatantly male. Something primal deep within her responded to him

He took another step toward her. As though hypnotized, she watched him lift his hand. Her heart beat increased ten–fold when his knuckles caressed her cheek, slid down the side of her neck. She shivered when his fingertips traced her collar bone, then rested lightly on the pulse throbbing wildly in the hollow of her throat.

Every nerve and cell in her body came to sudden, vibrant life at his touch.

He smiled at her, an insufferably smug, knowing smile. "You're mine now." His voice was like the

low rumble of distant thunder. "No other shall have you."

She nodded, unable to speak or object when he was looking at her like that. Unable to move as he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his in a long, searing kiss that threatened to turn her blood to fire and her bones to mush.

She felt bereft when he lifted his head.

He gazed down at her, noting her bruised lips, the two bright spots of color in her cheeks, the slightly dazed expression in her eyes. She was a remarkably pretty woman. Thick dark brown hair fell in soft waves down her back, almost to her waist. Her eyes were a warm golden brown above a nose that tilted upward at the end. And her lips...ah, those lips. Pink and perfectly shaped; made for his kisses.

He could take her, here, now, but he didn't want to compel this woman as he had so many others.

When he made love to Kadie Andrews, he wanted it to be her idea, and he wanted her to remember

every glorious moment of it.