Historical Saga of Romance and Bondage! From the wicked and twisted mind of Terri Pray comes the second in the Celeste's Captivity saga. The compelling story of bondage and romance begun in Captured now continues in Hunted. Stolen from her home in Ireland, Celeste has learned the cruel reality behind the legend of Lord Davien Blood. A man without love, compassion or the ability to treat a woman as a human being, he has set his mind on turning her into a slave and nothing will stand in his way. Only the memory of her home and the brief kiss she shared with the Raven, a Highwayman sought out by the authorities in her home county, have kept her from falling completely into the web of Davien's control. If she thought that Davien was alone in his dark desires where women were concerned, Celeste is about to learn that her belief is far from accurate. In an England on the brink of Napoleonic war there are those who seek out unwilling women as the targets for their dark lusts. And there is far worse to come, as Celeste soon discovers there are ones who will use captured women as little more than hunted animals in a game. A hunt that she will soon take part and as nothing more than a naked animal?
EXTRACT
CHAPTER ONE
Leather clad fingers brushed against her cheek, tracing a soft line
down to her chin before his strong hand cupped her face. `Have hope,
my lass.`
Hope, how could she have hope? Her life, her freedom and her virtue
had all been stolen from her in the blink of an eye. Yet there he
stood, just as he had that day in Ireland, his face hidden behind the
scarf yet a world of promise offered in his dark gaze. She could see
the outline, just a hint of promise, of his lips beneath the scarf.
Lips that she knew could light a passion within her soul at a single
touch. `I'm a long way from home, Raven.`
`Look around you, what do you see?`
Her gaze tore away from his face, searching through the mist that
clouded her thoughts. Just a dream, she knew that before he had even
spoken. Sooner or later she would awaken in the cage Davien locked her
in at the end of every night, or whenever it suited him to do so.
Home. Her mind showed her the home she had known, the world that had
been her safety before Lord Blood and his random attack. The cage was
gone, chains no longer existed, she even felt the simple dress caress
over her body, wrapping her in a protection that had been denied for
too long now.
The farm, the smell of the cows and the fields, even the distant
sound of her sister. It was all here.
`I'm home,` she murmured.
`You always will be, my lass. Just as long as you don't give up. Keep
Ireland in your heart, keep your family close, the memory of that
single kiss and he will never truly win.` His thumb brushed over her
lips, silencing her protests. `As long as you remember that then you
will always be my moon touched lass. He's just an Englishman, not
worthy of you.`
His dark eyes, the lilt behind his words, the hint of firm lips
behind the dark kerchief. She had felt them once, dreamed about his
touch time and again, each time she slipped into the welcome embrace
of these images her mind added a little more to the fantasy world
where she now sought sanctuary.
The kiss, her lips tingled at the memory of his brief touch. Such a
small thing, the way he had held her, teased his tongue into her
mouth, claiming her in a moment of passion that even now brought a
heat to life between her thighs. She craved the tender, yet firm
passion of that encounter. A man, a real man so unlike the one that
now held her captive. For him, for this Raven, she would have gladly
sacrificed her virginity. Yet, she no longer held such a jewel of a
gift to offer him. Both her freedom and her maidenhead both stolen by
the English Lord who had snatched her from the road.
Even his words felt right. So many of the men and women she had grown
up with thought that about their neighbors and unwanted lords. Yet how
many also signed up to serve in the English army? That part had never
made sense to her.
`My moon touched lass.` He leaned close, the cloth of his kerchief
brushed against her lips.
Had he called her that, in the brief moment of their meeting?
No, nor had he proclaimed her to be his lass.
This was nothing more than the dream of a beaten woman, an escape
from the nightmare that her life had become.
