Knight of Pleasure (22 page)

With a fierceness that matched her own, he kissed her back. He gripped her hip, and she liked the strong, possessive feel
of his hand there. When he slid his other hand up the inside of her thigh, her whole body tensed with anticipation. Surely
it would not be long before they committed the final act of sin.

The thought of having him inside her sent a spasm through her even before his fingers reached her center. Once he touched
her, his fingers moved in ways that did magical things to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a little breathless.

“If you do not know, then your husband truly was a swine,” he murmured. “Do you wish me to stop?” From the humor in his tone,
she could tell he was confident of her answer.

“But… but…,” she tried to speak but could not hold her thought long enough. “I never… this feels so… so… so very…”

She rubbed the back of her hand against his hard stomach. When she brushed against the rough cloth of his leggings, she grabbed
his forearm to stop his hand. “Will you not take your leggings off, as well?”

“What is it you want, Isobel?” His voice was soft, but she heard the tension in it.

“I—I—” She fell silent, embarrassed by what she’d been about to say.

“You must feel free to tell me anything, love,” he said, touching her cheek. “Especially when we are in bed.”

If she were going to have only this one time with him, she wanted it just right. She could not have explained why, but she
could not bear the thought of him just pulling it out of his leggings to take her.

Though it made her cheeks flush hot, she told him. “I want you as naked as I when we are joined.”

“I can bring you pleasure, sweetheart, without putting my cock inside you.”

The crude directness of his words startled her. ’Twas hard to think past “bring you pleasure” and “cock inside you.”

“If we are to avoid the risk of getting you with child, ’tis best I leave my leggings on.” He ran a finger along the side
of her face and said, “Believe me, it will be harder for us to stop in time if they are off.”

She looked into those melting brown eyes and heard herself ask, “Must we stop?”

He coughed, then said in a choked whisper, “I want you to be sure. This is a serious choice we make here.”

From what she heard about him, it was a choice he made all the time. She felt her heart constrict. “Do you not want to?”

His eyes flashed, and he broke into a wolfish grin. “Oh, aye, without a doubt I do,” he said. “In sooth, I can think of nothing
but being inside you.”

His words sent a jolt of desire through her.

“ ’Tis all I can do,” he said, tracing her bottom lip with his finger, “to keep myself from employing every argument I have
to convince you.”

In a voice just above a whisper, she asked, “What arguments would you make?”

“Not the kind you hear with your ears.” He gave her another of those devilish grins that nearly stopped her heart.

He kissed her senseless then. When he guided her hand to the fastening of his leggings, she felt a lurch of awareness as her
fingers touched the hardness of his shaft through the cloth. She rubbed her palm down its length, reveling in the moan he
made. She sucked on his tongue as she rubbed up and down, pulling new sounds from deep in his throat.

“You will have me spilling my seed like a youth,” he said, grabbing her wrist.

She smiled, pleased at the desperation in his voice. “You said you would take your leggings off.”

He sat bolt upright. After a couple of quick movements under the blanket, he raised his arm aloft with the leggings and threw
them across the room. This time when he took her into his arms and kissed her, he was fully naked against her.

And heaven above, he felt good!

The feel of his shaft pushing against her belly sent a thrill through her, right to her core. She bit his shoulder as she
ran her hands down the small of his back and over the firm, rounded muscles of his buttocks. He slipped his hand between her
legs. As his fingers went round and round, he swallowed her moans in deep liquid kisses.

His breath was hot in her ear. “How does this feel?”

“I—I…”
What did he ask?
She could concentrate on nothing but what he was doing to her with his hand. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“I won’t,” he said in a husky voice, “not until you cry my name in your pleasure.”

She did not understand what this feeling was welling up inside her.

“Trust me.”

She did trust him. She did.

He lowered himself to pull the tip of her breast into his mouth, his hand never stopping. Tension grew and grew in her. She
could feel it in him, too. In the tautness of his muscles, the pulsing shaft against her thigh, the heat vibrating off his
skin. As he sucked her breast harder, she pressed herself against his hand, her body wanting still more from him.

When she thought she could bear no more, her body spasmed in wave after wave of pleasure that shook her to her very soul.

Oh God oh God oh God.

After, her limbs felt weak and limp. Stephen’s head rested against her chest; his heart beat wildly against her stomach. With
an effort, she lifted one hand and ran her fingers through his hair. She felt a small squeeze inside her when she felt his
hard shaft against her leg.

Just when his head began to feel heavy on her chest, he turned with her so that they were on their sides, face to face.

“I never felt that before,” she told him.

He took her face in his hands and gave her a kiss that was slow and deep. When he hooked his leg around her, she ran her hand
over the taut muscle of thigh and buttock. All the while, they kissed, tongues sliding against each other.

She wanted to touch him. When she reached down and ran her finger along the length of his shaft, he drew in a sharp breath.

“Could you?” he asked in a tight voice. He wrapped her hand around it and moved their hands together to show her what he wanted.

Even she realized where this was going. She stopped her hand. “You said you wanted to be inside me.”

He drew back to peer into her face. “You have given yourself to no man but your husband.” He paused, then asked, “Why choose
me, Isobel? Why me?”

Why did the reason matter to him?

“I’ve come this far in my sin. I want to know all of it,” she said. That was part of it, but far from all.

Was that disappointment in his eyes? Hurt? What did he want her to say? That she knew no other man could make her feel this
way?

“You are the only one I would have.” Her pride would let her confess only this much. “The only one I want.”

Feeling uncertain, she kissed his cheek and guided his hand to where he had touched her before. She wondered uneasily if he
would jerk his hand away when he felt how wet she was. Instead, he groaned with what sounded like almost painful pleasure.

Soon she was lost in his kisses, his touches, the burning heat between them. She hardly noticed when he rolled her onto her
back. When she felt the tip of his shaft against her opening, all she could think was
at last, at last, at last.
She may have whimpered the words aloud.

They both gasped when he pushed into her. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around him. She clung to him as he moved against
her, slowly at first and then faster.

“Sorry. I cannot… last too long… this time,” he gasped, “I… can… not.”

He was ramming into her, harder and faster with each thrust.
Harder, harder, harder,
she egged him on. A burst of pleasure hit her, even stronger than the one before, and she cried out.

He was trying to pull away from her, but she held on to him with all her strength, refusing to let him go. And then he was
moving inside her again and she was weeping and calling his name, over and over. He cried out with her, and she felt his seed
empty inside her.

When he finally lay still in her arms, she held him to her, saying his name again and again and kissing his face and hair.

“Jesus,” he said without lifting his head. He rolled to the side, pulling her with him, and tucked her head under his chin.
In a fading voice, he said, “Isobel, my love, my…”

She heard his breathing grow steady. Could he possibly have fallen asleep? Nothing short of a wild boar could have gotten
her to move, but she was too awash in emotions to sleep. A hundred questions spun through her head as she tried to fathom
what had happened between them, and to her.

She leaned back, taking advantage of his dozing to study him in repose. In the shaft of sunlight that fell upon his hair,
she saw that what looked auburn from afar was in fact a hundred shades of red and gold.

His face was near perfect, to her mind. She liked his straight dark brows, his strong jaw and cheekbones, the blade nose,
the glint of bristles from a day’s growth of beard. His generous mouth. Even at rest, the corners seemed to tip up.

She felt an overwhelming tenderness toward him. Was it merely gratitude for the unexpected pleasures he gave her? Was it something
else? Something more?

She brushed a lock of hair away from his face and sighed. What did it matter? She recalled her mother’s last words to her:
We women are born to suffer.

Aye, she would suffer for this.

But she would not regret it.

Stephen kept his eyes closed, not wanting to waken and find it was all a dream. A smile spread across his face. Nay, that
could not have been a dream. He’d always known Isobel had a passionate nature beneath that sober exterior, but God in heaven,
he was a lucky man.

Aye, he must admit to one disappointment. He was not so foolish as to expect her to profess abounding love. But she did not
even admit to a particular fondness for him. Did she simply desire him? Surely that alone would not be enough for a woman
like Isobel to cross the line and commit herself.

Even at the end, he tried to pull out to preserve at least some possibility she could change her mind and avoid the marriage.
God knew how hard that was! Surely she understood why he did it. Her answer was unmistakable: she wrapped her legs around
him like a vise.

It had been heaven.

Other men could give her pleasure, so that could not be the only reason she chose him. Since the only other man she’d been
with was that ancient husband of hers, it was possible she did not know that. Well, she would never know it now. No man but
he would touch her again. He’d cut de Roche’s hands off if he tried.

Strong mutual desire was not a bad start to marriage; it was more than many had. She enjoyed his company. Still, he hoped
she saw more in him than a charming jester who could please her in bed. He wanted her to think better of him than that. Nay,
he wanted to
be
a better man than that for her.

He opened his eyes. The sight of her was like a sharp stab to his heart. She looked unspeakably lovely, with her tousled dark
hair, smooth pale skin, and serious green eyes.

“Did I sleep long?” he asked.

A softness came into her eyes, and a hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She shook her head a fraction.

“I am a lout to let you get chilled,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “Good Lord, you are covered in gooseflesh!”

He rubbed her back and arms until she laughed and begged him to stop. As he held her to him, he glanced up through the holes
in the roof to judge the light.

She must have heard his sigh, for she asked, “What is it?”

“We must return to the abbey in another hour,” he said. “The monks have their supper early. If we are not back before then,
someone is bound to notice we are still gone.”

She shrugged one fine-boned shoulder.

“Surely you do not want to be the cause of even more sinful thoughts among these poor monks?” he chided her with a smile.
“You’ll have them doing penance for months.”

When she laughed at his joke, he had to kiss her. And just like that, he was hard again. From the way her eyes widened when
he leaned back to look at her, she’d noticed. Her lips curved upward. A very good sign.

“You need do no more than look at me, and I want you.” He breathed in the summery smell of wildflowers in her hair and felt
her nipples harden against his chest.

This time, he intended to take her slowly. He did not know when they might have opportunity to sneak away again, so he wanted
to be sure she would not soon forget. As he kissed her, he wondered vaguely if the king would truly banish him to Ireland
for this. If so, their next time together might be on a boat.

“Do you get seasick?” he asked between nips at her earlobe.

“Mmmm?” she asked, but when he stuck his tongue in her ear and pressed his shaft against her thigh, he knew she forgot his
question.

When she reached down and took him in her hand, he forgot it, too.

He was a man who knew how to please a woman; usually he went about it with deliberation. This was different. With her, he
went on instinct and emotion. From touch to touch to touch, he followed her sighs. He sought to make every inch of her his
own.

There was no need for caution this time. When he finally entered her, he thrust all the way into her. She welcomed him, moved
with him. This time, he made it last.