If you love being intrigued by a luscious hero, look no farther than Ashley York's Peter of Normandy from THE GENTLE KNIGHT. He will curl your toes. Here's an example for Medieval Monday's First Kiss.
"What. Will. It. Be?" He leaned in closer, whispering each word.
"Whatever you think best?" She spoke as calmly as she could but the room was getting very hot.
He glanced up as if trying to read an unclear sign but then that assured smile returned.
A tiny quiver rippled through her. Before she could speak again, he was closing in on her, his body up against hers.
"Whatever I think best?"
She wavered for a moment, unsure why he answered her with that tone. She wanted nothing more than to melt against him, envelope herself in his heat. This was just like in her dream. Hot and heady.
Then his firm lips were on hers. His hard length pressing her into the table, as if trying to meld them together. Her body would gladly have done just that if only it could have turned to pure liquid instead of just a growing warmth where his hips grinded into her.
He pulled his head back enough to search her face. He was breathing hard. He looked bewildered. "Is this what you want then?"
Her body arched towards his where the pressure had eased. "I…I'm not sure." She should not be feeling this way. "Please."
The answering sound from deep in his throat surprised her but then she got what she craved. His lips on hers again, then trailing across her cheek and down her jaw. An intense ripple of pleasure shot straight to her core. His hips undulated against hers, the heat, the dampness. She moaned.
He suddenly stopped, his head still dipped into the crook of her neck. She didn't dare breathe.
"I do not believe your protector will be happy with the outcome if we continue." His voice was husky, his breath warm against her skin. He shifted away.
Her body immediately missed his. Her eyes closed, she took a slow, steadying breath.
A medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life. Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and possibly make them stronger?
Padraig MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous mercenaries with their own political agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the fulfillment of all she's ever wanted?
Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness?