A Night of Wicked Delight. Joanne Rock

hadn’t been the one to betray him. She hadn’t been the one to sell him to an eastern flesh trader in order to plunder Gareth’s keep five years ago.

      Nay, that treachery had been committed by her guardian. Emma had done naught but remind him how long it had been since he’d had a sweetly scented noblewoman in his arms.

      He cursed the inappropriateness of that thought.

      “Be very, very quiet and you will not be harmed,” he warned her, knowing they must be passing through the gate in the castle walls by the way the creaking wheels had slowed.

      All at once, she bit the center of his palm, her teeth scraping along his flesh. Gareth’s grip eased for only a moment, but it was enough for her to scream if she’d wanted to make noise.