Claiming (7 page)

“I’d lave my tongue against that cherry red nipple until it grew tight under my caresses. Then I’d take your breast into my mouth, and suckle until you feel like you’re going to explode. You know that feeling, don’t you?”

She swallowed and nodded, the blush on her face telling him her answer.

“Then, I would strip you of all your clothes.” He shifted himself and she could see he was aroused. For the life of her she could not lift her eyes from the thick rod that pushed against his britches. “Do you know what I would do then?”

She shook her head, unable to speak a word.

“I would take my mouth and lick you. I would like to taste you. I would explore you with my fingers, with my tongue, I would discover where you like to be touched, where you liked to be teased and tasted.”

“And I,” her voice was faint. “What would I do?”

He smiled. “Not lie quietly, that much I am sure.” He took a blade of grass and stroked it up her neck. She grabbed it and drew it into her mouth, sucking the grassy liquid from the blade.

“Then what?”

He gazed distractedly at her lips sucking at the blade of grass, before speaking again.

“Then, you would lay there, the air quickening from your open lips, your quim, wet and ready for me. And you would lie back and open your legs for me.”

“What if I did not?”

“I would push them open.”

“What if my arms held your arms tight so they could not push them open?”

“Then, I would take the long train of silk from your hood and wrap it around those beautiful wrists and tie them tight so you were held for my pleasure.”

“Held? But I would not like to be held.” She frowned for a minute but her curiosity won out. She looked up at him and held his gaze with dark, dark aroused eyes. “And then?”

“I would feel your sex, stroke it with my finger, watch you move, watch you wriggle against me, watch you wanting more. Then,” he shrugged, “I would know you are ready for me and I would plunge my cock into you and you would receive me. It may feel tight to begin with, but, after? Nicely tight.”

“But…” she stayed her hand on his. “Would you not roll me over first?”

“Ah, your knowledge is surely limited. But, yes, I
could
roll you over and take you from behind. Some women like it thus. But I would like to watch you. You have a face that shows exactly what you are thinking. As it does now.”

“And what is it that I’m thinking now.”

“That your curiosity is vying with your need for control. You want me, but you’re scared about the strength of your body’s hunger.”

She looked away quickly. “Maybe…”

“But there is no need to be scared. You will be too busy enjoying the movement of my cock inside you.”

She gulped and clutched him. “Stop, Saher.”

“Why? There is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be scared about. You know it truly. Your body knows it. You’re wet now, aren’t you?”

She nodded, reluctantly.

“And you will be even wetter, even more ready for me, I’ll make sure of that. And… after that, there will be nothing but pleasure.”

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. She knew of what pleasure he spoke. He’d nearly brought her to its height with just a few kisses.

He took her hand. “You must trust me, Rowena. The circumstances of our meeting leaves much to be desired but, for better or for worse we are to be together. And I’m thinking it will be much for the better.”

“For whom?”

“For both of us, if you’d let it, if you’d trust me.”

She bit her lip, uncertainly. “Trust you? ’Tis a lot to ask.”

“Not of a husband, it isn’t. And I am yours, whether you desired it or not. You must trust me with yourself, your body, your mind, your future. I would know all about you. I want to know everything about you, I
need
to know the truth of you. There’s been enough deceit in my life to recognize it, and to hate it for such.”

Deceit. The word that so aptly described what she was about to do, damped down the ardor that his touch had ignited. She looked up at the now sunless sky behind the tower. “The light, ’tis fading. People will be wondering where we are.”

He rose, picked up her hood and brought it over her hair, still mussed and sprinkled with grass and flowers. He carefully tucked her hair under her hood. “My wild lady. I might be marrying you, but I still want you wild. I might tie your hands at night when we are alone, but I would not have you tamed for the world.”

She smoothed her hair and fixed her hood. “And I would not be tamed, my lord. I cannot be. I would die.” She glanced up at the jagged-edged tower that dominated the skyline. “’Tis getting late, sir. We should return.”

He followed her gaze to the tower. “What place is that?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just an old place.”

He looked from the tower, to her, back to the tower again. “A ‘nothing’ place that makes you shudder and casts fear into your eyes? Tell me about it.”

“’Twas a place used for imprisonment.”

“Take me there.”

“’Tis late, we should return to the castle.”

“Not yet. I would have you show me this place.”

She bit her lip to try to stem the trembling that just the thought of seeing the tower induced. But she wouldn’t give way to fear. “As you wish.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rowena kept her horse to a walking pace, partly because the forest became more overgrown as they approached the top of the hill, and partly because she had no wish to arrive. Eventually they emerged into a small clearing from which the ruin soared high into the blue sky above them. They dismounted and tethered the horses. “This is it. You see, it’s nothing much.”

“Then why does that look come into your eyes?” He narrowed his own, consideringly. “Like a veil of fear.” She shrugged but turned away, not wanting to give herself away further. “Come, I wish you to show it me.” They walked over and looked inside. “An unwelcoming place. ’Tis on Gresham land?”

She nodded. “It was the first castle, so I believe, abandoned. A place where things were left… forgotten about.” She tried to turn away but he brought her head round to face him.

“Tell me.”

And just with that touch of his hand under her chin, she felt the fear melt a little. She looked up into eyes that were interested and kind. “It was my mother… She… was not my father’s equal in temperament. There was madness on her side of the family, and her behaviour had become increasingly strange. She sought refuge in the arms of other men and ceased to hide it. I heard rumours growing up, none of which I fully understood until the night when Melisende was born. You see Melisende looks nothing like either me or Angelique. I witnessed the accusations and arguments and watched my mother leave. We never saw her again. She was banished…”

He followed her gaze to the ivy that crept up the flint exterior, its suckers invading the decaying mortar. “To here.”

“Yes. To here. My father imprisoned her. We did not see her again. Not many years passed before she died. My maid says they were not unhappy years for her, and so I like to believe that. My mother was unbalanced, driven by her passion and in the tower she was controlled and lived in relative peace for the few years she had left to her.”

“Your father was a hard, unforgiving man.”

She nodded. “Yes. But she wasn’t well and he had to do something. I suppose he was concerned about her influence on us.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that, for me, the spectre of madness and passion is all rolled into one and embodied in my mother… in the tower. I used to think…”

“What?” He slipped his hand around her shoulder and caressed her, encouraging her to speak.

“That her fate was the fate of a wife and mother. She lost the respect of my father, her health suffered, and she was hidden, forgotten…” She shivered.

“You have nothing to fear on any of those accounts with me, my lady. My mother taught me well to respect strong women. And I do. I am ruthless with men, but respectful of women. ’Tis my weakness.”

She looked up to his dark grey eyes that were softer toward her now than before. “’Tis no weakness to respect women, sir.”

“No.” He brushed a cobweb from her cloak. “I do not think so either.” His eyes bore into hers, making her heart beat more quickly and her stomach flutter with desire. “Especially strong women who deserve all the respect they can get.” Their gaze once more collided, setting her senses into confusion.

For a long moment she’d forgotten why she was there, forgotten everything except the fire that dwelt in his eyes, heating and caressing her until the flutters grew in her belly… and lower.

He smiled as if aware of her changed response to him. “Come, let’s leave this dismal place and return to the castle. I would like to see those beautiful lips curve into a smile more often.” He lifted his finger, and gently dragged it against her lower lip. She swallowed down a strange mix of fear and something she’d never felt before, a strumming of excitement that refused to be subdued. “You’ve beautiful lips, my lady.”

She shook her head and his fingers moved against them, this time pushing over her top lip. He traced the edge of her lips, she was embarrassed by their fullness.

“Nay.” Her voice was strangely hoarse. She swallowed, desperate to try to be rid of the tension that suddenly existed between them. “They are too full.”

He frowned. “How can plump lips, so luscious and inviting, be ‘too’ anything? My only criticism is that there is a smudge of something…” He licked his finger and ran it over her lips. She flinched as if struck. But it was not the force that struck her but something quite different. It was as if his finger held sway over her whole body from the fluttering of her stomach, like so many moths around a flame, to the beat of her heart that raced, although she made no movement.

She watched, fascinated, compelled, unable to move, as he brought the finger that had swept her lips, up to his. He opened his mouth and tasted it. She took a sharp intake of breath.

“Um,” he murmured. He looked up through lowered lids at her and his eyes were darker than before. She could not, for the life of her, look away. “It tastes…”

“Of wine?” She swallowed, determined to try to keep her wits about her. “Mayhap I was over-hasty when I drank after hawking.”

“No, it’s of the grass you sucked. But it tastes more than grass now. Something like cinnamon, apples and heather. Not sweet, not sour, but spicy, delicious.”

“I know not what you mean.”

“It tastes of you, Rowena.”

She gasped as his head dipped down to hers but there was no kiss. “Come, my lady, I will take you away from such sorrowful memories.”

Somehow her mind had drifted into a sensory haze once more and her usually strong limbs felt weak. He must have sensed it because, before she knew what he was doing, he’d lifted her onto her horse and they’d begun the descent to Gresham castle, away from the spectre of the decaying tower and its constant reminder of her need for independence.

There was no need now, to fret about how she would be free of Saher to get her silver to safety. There was no need to try to rid her body of the lazy torpor of arousal. His words and understanding had soothed her fears. And now both of her needs could be satisfied in the one act. Seduction. Tonight.

The Hall was less festive that night. There was a sense of expectation in the air. Saher’s knights had made themselves at home and her ladies and others of the household had become accustomed to their presence. The minstrels played an ancient air, languid and sensual. It was fitting. Tonight was the night she would sleep with Saher. Because he had to be gone by the morrow. And, if there were to be another chaste night, he would not leave and her schemes would be discovered. She could not risk the King being informed of her illegal gains, and she did not relish Saher discovering her deceit. She
had
to have him—she
wanted
to have him.

“You look pensive, lady.”
 

He inclined his head into her line of vision and plucked a piece of the most tender lamb from the trencher and offered it to her. The aroma of roasted meat and spices would have made her mouth water alone, if it weren’t for the look in his eyes—dark, passionate, full of humor and kindness. So many things, all at the same time.

She opened her mouth and he touched her lips with the meat, teasing her a few times before she opened her mouth further and he laid it on her tongue. She closed her lips around it and looked up into eyes that had darkened with desire. Gone was her initial apprehension. Within a few short days she’d gained the measure of the man. They were drawn to each other—body to body—and she did not look upon coupling with displeasure. But ’twas not so easy to dismiss a lifetime’s apprehension so quickly.

“So, tell me, why the lack of talk, why the lack of eating. You sit there like a nun, your hands folded on your lap, your eyes far away. What is it you’re dwelling on?”

How could she begin to voice her fears, her doubts, her longing? She shook her head as she chewed the meat slowly. “I am thinking of my sisters. My sister Melisende could always sense when a change was coming.”

“And you think there is a change on its way now?”