An Unexpected Passion Lady Jenova of Gunlinghorn feels she should marry, though not for love, for she vows never to entrust her heart to a man again. Then Lord Henry, her charming and devilishly handsome friend, arrives to offer his opinion on the chosen bridegroom. But when they are trapped together by a winter storm, she and Henry wildly succumb to a desire they neither anticipated nor welcomed. And suddenly Jenova must rethink her matrimonial plans. An Unforeseen Betrothal It was a momentary madness-and Henry cannot let one indiscretion destroy a cherished friendship! Still, the fire lit by a passionate kiss will not be extinguished, and Henry aches to taste Jenova's sweetness again and again. The only proper course is to marry her himself, though it will surely cost him his honored position at the royal court. But more importantly, how can two who share no faith in romance trust their hearts to something as perilous and unpredictable as love?

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Kissing the Bride

Chapter One

The weather had not been altogether bad. South beyondLondon, the Forest of Anderida had enclosedthem like a green ocean, but Henry had arranged for aguide to lead them through its timbered vastness. Snowhad fallen, but not heavily, and not enough to slow downhis troop of men.

Henry, huddled in his thick, fur-lined cloak, hadthought wistfully of Christina, her long, dark hair coveringthe smooth, pale skin of her back as last evening she'dpoured him wine from a jug. Her movements had beengraceful and languid, and as she had turned to him, shehad smiled. Aye, she had made a tasty picture, dressedonly in her ebony locks.

He did not love her, any more than she loved him.Theirs was a relationship of convenience, and love was notsomething that was part of the contract between them.For Henry, women like Christina were a necessity—anecessary pleasure. If she was not the greatest conversationalist, and her intelligence was shrewd rather than deep,what did it matter, when she more than satisfied him inbed? And as for Christina, the daughter of an ambitiousminor noble, she was more than happy with her comfortablerooms and fine clothes and jewels.

"I have to leave tomorrow," he had told her, sippingthe wine.

She had blinked. "Go where, my lord?"

"To the Downs in the southwest, Christina. To Gunlinghorn."

Her eyes had widened. "Oh, my lord, I would not like togo outside London! There are savages in the countryside!"

Henry had grinned. "Then it is as well you are not going,Christina. You will stay here until I return."

She had been relieved, Henry thought now with wryhumor. Christina had had no desire to share the perils ofHenry's journey. She liked him, or at least she liked theluxuries he could afford to give her, but that was as far asit went. She was glad he was going alone.

Why were women so fickle? They couldn't wait to getinto bed with him, but none of them sobbed more than afew false tears when it was time to part. Was it somethingto do with him? Did he not please them in some way?Henry knew that wasn't so—his women were alwayswell pleased. When their relationship had run its course,and they left, they nearly always took with them a mutualfondness. Nay, the problem lay elsewhere. AndHenry had lately begun to understand that somethingwas missing.

But what?

As clever and handsome as he was reported to be,Henry did not know.

In younger days he hadn't felt the need to dwell onsuch puzzling and incomprehensible matters. Then all he had wanted was a lusty woman in his bed. But now ... Imust be getting old, he thought in disgust. Or maybe itwas seeing Radulf and Lily, and Gunnar and Rose, andIvo and Briar, all so happy, all content with exactly whatthey had, all so much in love ...

It was ridiculous, but it made Henry feel lonely.

Love?

In his heart, Henry held a dark fear. Love would meansharing all his secrets with another person and trustingthem to understand. It would mean giving more of himselfthan he was prepared, or perhaps able, to give.

Henry had been more or less orphaned at the age offive, and at thirteen he had been a man well and truly. Hedid not look to love as a reason to survive.

What does it matter if I haven't found a Lily or aBriar? he asked himself angrily. He had what other menenvied. He was well favored in looks and fortune, he hadthe king's ear and any woman he wanted. It was no boast,but honest truth. Women never turned Lord Henry down.

Love!

He had no time for love; it was the least of his concerns.He admitted to himself that that was why he preferredthe lighter intimacies of women like Christina; itwas less trouble. It was safer.

Henry and his troop of men rode on, into the wintryforest, through the fertile Weald and onto the windsweptDowns. Here the Gunlinghorn River was born in thechalk downs and grew wide and strong, leading theminto the Vale of Gunlinghorn. Winter rains had turnedponds into small lakes, and the water meadows were fullof life despite the weather. Henry watched a long-leggedwaterbird fly low across the gray surface, momentarilysurrounded by a flock of smaller linnets. Gunlinghornhad always been plentiful in its harvests of both land and water. Before the Normans came, life here had been fortunate,bountiful, and under Lady Jenova little hadchanged. In that regard, Gunlinghorn was truly a smallslice of Eden.

The castle stood upon a tall hill, overlooking the Vale.From the highest point of the keep, one could look outover the cliffs on the coast of England, to the very sea theNormans had sailed across to make their conquest.

The keep itself was constructed of timber cut from thewoods surrounding the Vale of Gunlinghorn. The strongwooden ramparts encircling the keep were currently beingremade in local stone, with the grim-looking gatehousealready completed. Jenova was ferocious when itcame to protecting what belonged to her, and Henry hadsuggested stone the last time he'd been here. Now, seeingwith his own eyes that she had taken his advice, he felt anunexpected rush of pleasure.

Gunlinghorn's heavy gates opened easily to his name.Henry led his men into the bailey, casting an eye over thebusy castlefolk, and nodding in reply to the many cries ofwelcome. He was known here. Liked, too, he thought. Itwas almost like coming home. With an odd catch in hischest, Henry realized that Gunlinghorn was probably thenearest thing to a family and a home that he had ever had.

Excerpted from Kissing the Bride by Sara Bennett
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