Sapphire - Book 2 (3 page)

He then kicked the door shut, all the while
never spilling a drop of ale. “I never get refused. I realize
you’re new here, as I haven’t seen you before. But you need to
learn your position.”

The room was small, dank, and musty. The
only furnishings inside being the pallet, a small table with a
washbasin of water and a chair. Several hooks lined the wall, and
old, broken wooden shutters squeaked as they moved back and forth
from the breeze coming through the open window. It was dark, and
the room was lit by only one tallow candle, burning the animal fat
quickly in a bowl next to the bed. But even in the semi-darkness
she could make out what he was doing. He removed his scabbard and
sword and threw them on the bedside table. He then removed his
tunic, chain mail and undertunic, hanging them on a wall hook and
sat on the chair as he untied his boots.

Who was this man that he thought to even
speak to her in this manner? He angered her and she could not let
him go on with this, even if he didn’t know better and she was
still in disguise.

“I believe, Sir Knight, that ’tis perhaps
you
who needs to learn
my
position.” Sapphire had
every intention of telling him she was a noble and not a whore, but
stopped abruptly, distracted by his next actions.

His boots were off and he stood up, causing
her eyes to focus on his broad, bare chest. His upper arms were
strong with corded muscles and his chest cried out for her to touch
it. She shook the illicit thought from her head, just watching
intently as he drained the ale before slamming the tankard down
onto the wash table. Then in one move he slipped out of his braies
and hose and walked over to the bed stark naked.

“Any position is fine with me. I’m game for
something new. Now take off your clothes, wench.”

“I will not!” She hugged her mantle closer
as she surveyed him.

A muscle in his jaw twitched and he took a
step into the candlelight. The man was devilishly handsome. His
body alone was a work of art. So unlike her own husband’s balding
head and bulging stomach. She bravely let her gaze roam down his
strong chest to his taught stomach and to the arrow of dark, crisp
hair that led to the biggest interest she’d ever had in a man. He
stretched toward her, hard, hot and ready.

She pushed upward on the bed, meaning to say
something, but not able to find her voice. Instead, her eyes drank
in his perfect manly beauty and she couldn’t help but wonder what
it would feel like to make love with a man like this. A voice
inside her head warned her to get away fast. But instead of
listening to her head, she listened to her heart, and just stayed
there, wondering what was going to happen next. She was scared, but
curious enough to make her want to tarry just a moment longer. He
leaned toward her, kneeling one muscled thigh right next to her
hand.

“As you can see,” he said, his voice
dripping with lust, “I haven’t laid with a woman for some time now
and am not interested in playing games at the moment.”

“I . . . see,” was all she could say as her
eyes were transfixed below his waist. Never in her life had she
dreamed a man could be so ready. She’d never seen the likes of this
and couldn’t help but feel her inner core stir, wondering just what
he would feel like against her own skin – and inside her body.

She released her grip on her mantle, burning
up with the sudden heat in the room. If she didn’t remove her cloak
soon, she knew she’d melt. She unclasped the brooch that secured
her cloak, and let it slip from her shoulders onto the bed in a
heap.

“That’s better. Mayhap you just need a
little help disrobing.”

“I’m not a whore,” she blurted out.

“You wear the scarlet color used to identify
women of your profession,” he told her. “So please, stop your
little game, as I am in great need of your services right now.”

He reached out and pulled the leather ties
that held the bodice of her peasant’s dress together. It was her
disguise when she came to town that she’d worn to save her
identity. Unfortunately, she hadn’t realized until he’d just
pointed it out, that it was scarlet - the same color worn to
identify whores. No wonder he thought she was one of them. She
should have specified to Dugald before he secured it, any peasant
gown but scarlet, had she known. He’d most likely gotten the
garment from here to begin with. Too late now, she realized.

“I’m . . . I’m not what you think,” she said
licking her dry lips, but he misinterpreted her thirst for a wanton
action instead.

“You’re right. I don’t buy the modesty act.
It doesn’t fit you.” He freed her breasts and ran his hands over
them, brushing his thumbs over her nipples, causing them to
tighten. She sucked in a breath, her eyes wide as she couldn’t
believe what was happening. And before she even had the chance to
respond, he lowered his mouth to her, fastening his lips around one
nipple at a time, sucking her into his warm mouth, using his tongue
to tease her.

Sweet Jesu it felt wonderful, and she
noticed an instant tingling between her thighs. So this was the
feeling of which her sister had spoken. Her body never responded to
the man she’d married at all, and she had started thinking there
was something wrong with her. But then again, Lord Wretched had
never taken the time to do anything like this.

The knight continued his exploration and she
basked in the amount of erotic stimulation she was receiving. Tho
it was immoral and shameful, it was also wonderful and amazing all
at the same time. Her head dizzied and she reached out and gripped
his hair, trying to push him away, but finding herself too weak and
wanton to do it. She liked this, and wondered if she’d burn in hell
for her actions just by enjoying the act.

“I like your breasts,” he said, his eyes
fastened on them, making her heart thump even louder within her
chest.

She felt like an icy winter slowly melting
into a puddle under his warming summer touch. She tried to speak
but couldn’t, and struggled, trying to regain her composure.

“They’re so full and beautiful and just
longing to be tasted.” He laid her back on the bed and she found
herself unable to object. Her body was tingling in places she never
knew existed and she needed to discover more of this enjoyable
feeling.

This is what she’d been waiting for her
entire life. She was a woman with needs as well as a man, and this
stranger was making her feel more alive beneath his touch than
she’d ever felt before.

He cupped his hands over her breasts and
caressed them first gently and then a bit rougher. He straddled
himself atop her and she found herself not able to look away from
what dangled between his legs. By the rood, she was going to hell
for enjoying this, and she felt as if she no longer even knew
herself. She could feel his warmth and hardness as his tip
teasingly rubbed against her groin, right through her skirts.

Panic suddenly ripped through her at the
thought of how close they were to coupling. She knew she had to
leave at once. She pushed upward on the bed, but he leaned over
her, keeping her in position.

“I liked the taste of your lips, too.” His
mouth descended upon hers again as he whisked his lips past her in
a brief kiss. “You taste good. Like mint. Not like ale and the
other foul things like most whores. And you smell like . . . rose
water?”

“I told you,” she said through ragged
breathing, trying to ignore her body’s cry to couple with this man.
“I’m . . . not . . . what you think. I’m . . .I’m a lady.” She
raised her chin and waited for his reaction. She figured he’d jump
off of her now, realizing his mistake but instead, he just grinned
from ear to ear.

“And I’m the King of England,” he said with
a chuckle. “You do amuse me with this coy little game you play. And
I’ll tell you, it truly excites me even more. I’ve never bedded a
tart that toyed with me only to arouse me, and kept acting like a
shy virgin. I like that. But I assure you, I need no more arousing,
as I am more than ready.”

His tongue shot out and traced her lips. Her
mouth opened to tell him she wasn’t lying, but his kiss deepened.
His tongue invaded her mouth in thrusting motions that had her hips
involuntarily imitating the same movement below him.

“Are you ready to please me now?” he
asked.

His words just echoed in her ears and she
found herself repeating them out loud. “Are you ready to please
me?” she repeated his words, but he thought she was matching him
with the same question.

“Well, I’ve never been said to leave a woman
wanting for more once she’s been with me.”

He was bragging she figured, but at the same
time she couldn’t help but wonder if it were true. She was burning
beneath her skirts, and she needed release as desperately as he did
at this moment. She had a yearning to know how pleasure through
coupling felt. Her body vibrated beneath him and she felt as if she
were being driven mad, as all she could think about was the passion
and ecstasy she’d heard other women speak of when they’d told tales
of making love. And then the most brash, reckless thought entered
her mind of going through with it, and though it should have
horrified her, it didn’t.

She knew ’twas not an accepted act, and she
could be punished severely if caught, but she no longer cared that
she was a lady about to give herself to a man whom she didn’t even
know. He excited her in a way of which she’d always dreamed of
someday experiencing. She wanted pleasure and satisfaction. And she
knew that after tonight, she’d never see him again. She’d be back,
trapped in the castle naught more than a prisoner being wed to a
tyrant who thought only of his own pleasures, and would probably
beat her once again if he’d discovered what she’d done.

But one too many times she’d given of
herself to gain nothing in the exchange. This time she knew ’twould
be different. This was what she’d been waiting for all her
life.

He lifted her skirts with one hand and
caressed her naked bottom. Men loved the fact most commoners wore
nothing beneath their skirts. They were easily accessible that way.
She’d gotten used to this way of dress when her husband insisted
she be ready for him whenever and wherever he should decide to take
her, and burned all her undergarments and hose when she’d tried to
defy him by wearing them.

The knight rubbed his fingers over the
juncture of her thighs and she opened wider for him as she let out
a small moan. She felt a ring on his finger and the friction of the
metal excited her even more.

She closed her eyes and threw back her head.
He was there again kissing her lips as he fingered her beneath her
skirts. Her body warmed and tingled. She could hear the sound of
her own liquid passion as he continued.

“Ohhhhhh,” she moaned, her head thrashing
back and forth upon the pallet beneath her. Her knees spread wider
as she accepted his advances, and she felt herself wondering why
this knight would think to pleasure a woman that he thought was
only a whore. Even when coupling for money, he seemed to want to
please the woman as well. She could see now why any of the girls
downstairs would be first in line to give their services to this
knight. Never had she felt so alive. Never had she felt so good.
And never had she ever wanted a man the way she did right now.
“Please . . . I want you . . . all of you,” she found herself
saying before she could stop herself.

“That’s what I like to hear from my girls.
But I don’t give you what you want until you give me what I want
first.”

What kind of game was this man playing with
her? Couldn’t he see she was at the brink of losing control? Why
was he waiting? She wasn’t used to this teasing, nor did she think
she could endure it even for another minute.

“Anything,” she answered in a breathy
whisper, watching the rise and fall of her own breasts which only
excited her more. Her naked body. His naked body. Pressed together.
She didn't even know the man, and nor did she care. What could be
more exciting?

“Your name,” he said. “Give me your name, as
I haven’t seen you here before.”

“That’s because I don’t come from these
parts,” she told him.

He removed his hand and she clamped her
knees tightly around it, in a silent gesture of begging him to come
back to her.

“I like to know my partner’s name so I can
ask for her again if she so pleases me.”

By the rood, why was he doing this to her?
She had half a mind to tell him her name just so he wouldn’t leave
her squirming on the bed. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let him
know her true identity. If word got out she’d been with a man at
the Bucket of Blood, her name would be sullied forever. Besides,
her husband would take his hand to her behind and probably punish
her by taking her every hour of the day. Still, she needed to tell
this man something or she may never find out what it is to couple
in ecstasy and find release.

“My name is . . . Lark,” she lied. She
didn't know where that came from nor did she care at the
moment.

“Lark,” he repeated, nodding in
satisfaction. “It fits you well. And now my sweet little bird I
will hear you sing with passion.”

She felt worse about lying than she did
about what they were about to do. He then lowered himself, gently
pushing into her, and she had a sharp intake of breath at the size
of him.

“Can you handle me?” he asked.

“Of course I can.” She hadn’t the slightest
idea if it were true, as he was more than twice the size of the
baron. Still, she couldn’t have him leaving her now, so she’d said
what he wanted to hear.

“Are you sure?” he asked almost as if he
truly cared. Why should he even ask this if he thought her to be a
whore? He was most polite in bed.

He started to move slowly at first until she
got used to the rhythm. It was like a dance, a beautiful dance that
she never wanted to end. They moved together, meeting each other
and she could feel him reaching all the way to her very soul. This
is what coupling was supposed to feel like. She now knew what the
women in the castle meant when they said they enjoyed it. She
understood how Ruby felt when she said it was exciting and vibrant.
His hips moved faster and so did hers. Her sensations grew stronger
and the tinge of guilt that had first been there was long gone. She
felt herself climbing to a height she’d never experienced before.
And all because of this wonderful man who was taking her on the
journey.