If you are expecting a traditional medieval tale or charming prince, you will not find it here. I am not like other men for I have a voracious appetite and will appease it no matter the cost. Do you doubt my confession? Then I invite you to step into my kingdom.
Women were created for pleasure, tis my obligation to see them fulfilled. When I whisper, they come to me. All save one...Lady Ruby. I can see the desire in her eyes even though her pure and noble heart fights against it. She may be an outlaw, but a rare gem such as she has never been found in Meradin. She is my challenge, my penance, and my weakness. Nothing short of Almighty God Himself can keep her from me. I shall possess her. Ruby is mine.
Dear reader, will you begrudge me your company when you learn of my past and how wicked I can truly be? Or will you come to me willingly, surrender yourself to my charms, and beg for more? Surely my tale of intrigue, murder, and treason will be enough to tempt you to sin with me if only for a short while. Come with me, and I will lay myself bare.
Prince Crispin Saville
His gaze narrowed. "Do not mistake my interest in you for compassion, Ruby. I have never been a thoughtful or compassionate man."
"What do you want from me?" she asked. "I have no coin, no wealth, nothing that would satisfy your greed."
"Is that so?" he whispered, reaching up to brush his fingertips across her jaw and down her neck. She was softer than he had imagined, and his cock hardened at the solitary touch. "I think you underestimate your own value, my lady." His hand stilled instantly at the cold press of a blade against his inner thigh.
"One more move, bastard, and I'll send an entire kingdom of whores into mourning."
Ruby's threat hung between them. Crispin watched her closely. He could see the lust in her gaze, but she was fighting it and winning. He dropped his hands to his sides.
"I yield," he said. Even though he no longer touched her, he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. He bit his lower lip in agitation. Her gaze fluttered to his mouth, and he saw her silent gasp, the hitch in her breathing. He grinned and took a step back. "Please, join me. You are welcome to use the bath, if you are so inclined."
Ruby shook her head. She approached the table where his dinner sat. "May I?" she asked, glancing at him.
Crispin nodded. His appetite had shifted. He watched her take large, ravenous bites. He glanced down at his erection. It was obvious he would have to woo her into his good graces. He shuddered to think what she would do to him should his identity be revealed, but even if they did indulge in some bed sport, he would be long gone before she realized he was the prince. He snatched his trousers off the bed and pulled them on. She ate silently, occasionally sneaking a peek at him.
"Enjoying your meal?" he asked, lying down on the bed.
"Aye," Ruby said around a mouthful of food. She swallowed and turned toward him. "I believe the guards must have left by now." She stood and headed for the door. "I thank you, again."
In an instant, Crispin was on his feet, his body between her and the door. Her surprised expression reminded him of cornered prey. He took a step closer to her. She swallowed and licked her lips.
"I need to leave. Stand aside." Ruby shook her head and stalked forward, pushing against him, hoping he would move.
Crispin grabbed her by the waist and backed her up, tumbling them both onto the bed. He took her wrists and held her hands above her head, securing her under his weight.
"Why must you be so stubborn?" he asked, his voice husky.
"Why must you restrain me?" She arched a brow. "Get off."
"So you can draw your weapon against me again? I think not." Crispin groaned as she struggled beneath him. "The next time you threaten me with a blade, you had better be prepared to use it."
Jen Bradlee can get away with murder, metaphorically speaking of course. She is a sensual woman who enjoys people watching, belly dancing, and taking walks in the rain. Give her a man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty and plays hard. The ones with rough edges and a little scruff are the best. She finds cathartic release when she pours all her fantasies and desires into her writing. Comes with a warning label. "Too hot to handle."