Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (19 page)

Lay wondered about many things as they rode along, searching for a hut or some other shelter where they might spend the remainder of the night. Not the least of which was whether her husband intended to truly make her his wife. The details of how they’d go about that process were still somewhat vague in her mind, but she couldn’t help feeling curious about it.

And what he planned to do.

That was one question she couldn’t ask him. It seemed too bold, too frightening. Her curiosity kept nagging at her, but she refused to give in to it. She could only hope he would answer that question without being asked.

It began to rain soon after they left the church, and she felt thoroughly chilled, despite her cloak and Ian’s shared warmth. Even the fire in her veins at the thought of Ian’s kisses could not warm her. He’d told her there were all sorts of kisses; she hoped that once they got wherever they were going, he’d show her.

If they didn’t fall asleep first.

Lily wrenched her thoughts away from indulgence to more serious concerns. Even now, Llywelyn’s men might be on their trail. But she didn’t really fear that they would catch them. Her trust in Ian was absolute.

They’d scarcely rested in two days. She only hoped that exhaustion didn’t destroy Ian’s vigilance. She’d do what she could to help him, but she knew she hadn’t his skill.

He was the Dragon; she didn’t doubt he could go on for days with little rest, without its affecting him. But he did look tired.

She sat up with a start when Ian halted their mount outside a tumbledown hut. It had begun to rain, a misery in the cold mountain air. She knew they were fortunate to have found any shelter at all.

He tethered the horse beneath a thick stand of firs, then asked her for the candle they’d had in the tunnel. He left her waiting under the shelter of the trees while he investigated the hut.

He returned almost immediately

“It’s little more than four wails and a roof—which leaks–but ‘tis better than staying out here. And there’s some wood inside. I’ll be able to make a fire.”

The flames lent a cheerful glow to the hut, disguising its dilapidated state. Lily spread a cloth and laid out bread and cheese, and a skin of mead. They hadn’t eaten since midday, and she was starved. Ian fell to with a hearty appetite, but despite her hunger, Lily found she couldn’t eat much. Curiosity about what Lan might expect of her made her nervous.

He noticed at once that she only picked at her food.

“Here, try the mead. Catrin makes the best mead I’ve ever tasted. Perhaps it will stir your hunger.”

She drank, savoring the honeyed sweetness and the hint of spice. When she lowered the skin, she found Ian watching her, his eyes dark. Her heart paused, then pounded furiously, at the longing in his gaze.

He took the mead from her and brought it to his lips, then leaned close and captured her mouth with his. His lips skimmed hers, teasing, taunting her with the barest hint of passion.

Groaning, he tossed the drink aside and buried his fingers in her disheveled hair. He tasted of honey, a sweetness she shared as he plunged his tongue deep to toy with hers.

He nibbled at her lips, then worked his way down her throat, teasing and licking the sensitive places he found along the way. She felt his fingers at her ribs, tickling her as he struggled with the laces of her gown. Cursing, he tore at the strings, still kissing her all the while.

Finally the laces gave, and he tugged at her bliaut, pulling it up and over her head, leaving her still clad in her under tunic and shift. But the loose garments made her feel free, relaxed.

Lily wanted to touch his skin, to smooth her hands over the warmth of his lean, well-muscled body. She tugged without success at his tunic.

“Let me,” he murmured against her throat, gently brushing her hands aside. Rearing back, he pulled his tunic and shirt over his head and tossed them over his shoulder.

A mat of dark curls covered his chest, tempting her fingers to explore. Simply touching him set her blood to simmering in her veins. She raked her nails from his collarbone to his waist, glorying in his reaction. He leaned back on one elbow, breath hissing through his teeth. But he did not stop her.

He lay there for a time, allowing her to learn him as she stroked his darkly tanned skin. But he was hardly a passive participant. He undid her braid and swept the long fall of hair over her shoulders, combing his fingers through it as he drew her toward him.

“Kiss me, wife,” he growled, his gaze never leaving her as she moved closer.

Ian’s mouth on hers spread fire over her entire body, sending more heat spiraling through her. It was a wonder she hadn’t burst into flames. He stroked his hands the length of her body and back again, kneading and shaping her flesh until she arched like a cat in his arms.

She ached to feel his fingers touch her skin, and he must have sensed. He found the hem of her under tunic and began to inch it upward, dragging his fingertips in a tortuous path along her inner thigh.

She clamped her legs together, fighting the urge to let them fall open wider, to invite his touch. But Ian would have none of that.

His hand firm on her knee, he said, “Nay, love, let me touch you. Here.” He traced the back of her knee, then smoothed his palm along her calf until she relaxed, sa-voting the caress.

He eased her back onto the cloak, maintaining the soothing, yet exciting, motion of his hand.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

“But you’re wearing too many clothes.”

What did clothes have to do with kissing, she wondered, but she helped him remove her under tunic When she sat up, she ran her hands over his chest again, reveling in the way his eyes darkened even more.

Ian leaned over her and nudged the sleeve of her shift over the curve of her shoulder, making the neckline drape low over her breasts. He nipped at her neck, sending a shiver of delight down her spine.

“You’re so lovely,” he said, staring into her eyes.

Moving slowly, he slipped the shift down to her waist.

But before she had the chance to feel exposed, he covered her aching breasts with his hands. He continued to watch her. The combination of his hands slowly moving over her sensitive flesh and the seduction of his gaze made her body feel heavy, languorous.

Ian could have gotten lost in her eyes, could have drowned in their soothing green depths. He saw each tiny play of emotion reflected there, her reaction to the touch of his hands against the pebbled hardness of her nipples making his mouth yearn to taste them.

Her flesh was soft and sweet, a delight to his senses in the flickering light. The low moan she made when he took the rosy tip into his mouth sent a renewed surge of vigor to his already throbbing manhood.

With her attention focused on what his mouth was doing, her legs had fallen open, allowing him access to her sweetest flesh. He slipped one hand up beneath the rumpled silk of her shift and cupped her soft curls in the palm of his hand.

She arched off the cloak, hands clutching at his back.

Sweat beaded on his face as he drew her nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth gently over it as he stroked the damp petals of her womanhood.

“Ian,” she moaned. She shoved at the waist of his braes, then tugged on the string until it came untied. Pushing at the loosened fabric, she managed to bare him to the knees. Keeping up the rhythmic caress with hands and mouth, he somehow got the leggings off.

His reaction when she tentatively stroked his aching flesh wasn’t very different from her own. Jesu, he thought he’d spill his seed into her hands. She was ready for him, he could feel it. He didn’t know if he could wait much longer.

But he had to be certain that this was what she wanted.

Pressing his hand over hers to halt the mind-stopping caress, he sat back on his heels and moved her hand away.

“Lily, sweeting, look at me,” he commanded softly. Her eyes drifted open, widening when she swept her gaze over his erect shaft.

She smiled, The effect on his body was nearly as strong as if she’d put her hand upon him again.

“Do you want me? Do you want to make love with me?” he asked, his voice taut with desire.

Still smiling, she sat up and touched her fingertip to the end of his staff.

“Yes.” She leaned closer, dragging her hair across his thighs, the cool strands a sensuous contrast to his burning flesh.

“Yes,” she whispered, drawing her fingers over his chest.

When she nuzzled through the dark curls and swept the tip of her tongue over his nipple, he could endure the torment no longer.

Pulling her beneath him, he set about making her his.

Lily welcomed him with an enthusiasm that surprised him, given her inexperience. Her gaze never left him as he moved between her legs and settled into the cradle of her body, allowing her to adjust to his weight atop her.

“Don’t make me wait, Dragon,” she whispered as she pulled him closer.

“Sometimes ‘tis better to wait,” he said teasingly.

“I’m not through kissing you yet.”

He closed her mouth with his, the rhythm he set as he thrust his tongue into her mouth echoing that of his body robbing against hers. Her fingernails scraped along his ribs, digging in when he tore his mouth free and began kissing and licking his way down her body.

She watched him curiously as he cradled her hips within his hands and nuzzled the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs. But she was writhing wildly in his arms in no time, her voice a keening sigh as she called his name.

Ian slipped into her as her body began to spasm with satisfaction, easing his way into her grasp. Lily wrapped her legs about his hips and held him tightly, her anchor in the swirl of passion he’d begun, swiftly matching his rhythm, until she plunged with him into the throes of completion.

Lily lay pressed beneath Ian’s weight, unable—and unwilling—to move. She’d never felt so tired or exhilarated in her life. She burrowed her face in his tousled curls and smiled.

“I must be crashing you,” he muttered, his voice sounding as weak as she felt. He levered himself up and settled alongside her, wrapping his arm about her waist and cuddling close.

Now she knew, Lily thought. Her ignorance didn’t matter after all; if anyone had tried to describe lovemaking to her, she never would have imagined this. And there was so much more to it than the physical actions, she realized. The sense of closeness with Ian, the yearning to be one with him—those feelings were as amazing as the explosion of sensation that still echoed through her body.

Eventually the sensations subsided. Lily stared past Ian’s shoulder into the dying flames, tired, but not yet ready to sleep.

“Is this what the priest and that girl were doing?” she asked. She could feel a blush sweep over her at the thought.

Ian laughed.

“Most likely. I told you before what he’s like, the lecherous old bastard. He’s certainly not much of a priest, though he served us well. But the last I knew, priests were not supposed to partake of the sort of activities we just indulged in.”

He turned her to face him and kissed her lips softly, slowly.

“Enough about him. Marrying us was assuredly the best deed he’s performed in a very long time. Now we’re wed, we’re free to indulge as often as we like. If it pleases you,” he added. Taking her hand in his, he nibbled at her fingertips, renewing the echoes of passion lingering in her body.

“Did you like what we did?” he asked, his gaze assessing.

What a stupid question!

“If I liked it any better, I would probably be lying here unconscious,” she told him.

““Tis no wonder the Church tells us ‘tis a sin. Once indulged, I think this appetite must become stronger, never to be satisfied.”

“Hungry again?” he asked, his lips quirked upward in a devilish smile.

“If you’re not, what tidbit might I give you to whet your appetite, milady?”

Lily ran her glance over him from head to toe, taking her time and enjoying every detail of the journey. It appeared that even her eyes’ caress had an effect upon him, bringing his manhood erect and making the pulse in his neck throb faster.

“Twas a powerful feeling, to know she could cause such a reaction without even laying a hand upon him. It made her wonder what he would do when she finally did touch him. Smiling, she decided to find out.

Fingers digging into the dark curls on his chest, she pushed him back on the cloak they used as a blanket. He folded his arms behind his head and smiled.

“Do with me whatever you wish,” he told her.

“Our bodies hold a wealth of pleasures. Explore them with me. I promise I won’t mind.”

His eyes hinted at delights she had yet to experience.

His face and body dared her, tempted her, to partake of them with him.

Uncertain where to start, Lily placed her open hands upon the corded muscles of his chest and kneaded the hard planes of his stomach with gentle strokes. Firelight flickered over his body, painting him with its warm glow. Dark hair curled around her fingers, the crisp texture making her breasts tingle in remembrance of that wiry mat rubbing against her nipples.

She covered his face with kisses, enjoying the sound of his indrawn breath whenever she did something he liked.

And it seemed to her that he liked practically everything she did.

He lay there and allowed her to explore his body, satisfying her curiosity—and increasing her own desire.

Finally his hands snaked out from beneath his head and, grabbing her about the waist, he set her atop him.

“Take me now, Lily,” he groaned.

Curious about this new position—and aching for his possession—she sank down upon his shaft, delighting in the fact that she was in control. Now was her chance to make him squirm.

But the sensations were too intense to endure for long.

Much too quickly, it seemed, pleasure overtook her, and any sense of control disappeared. Moaning, Lily slumped over Ian as he, too, surrendered to passion.

Lily fell asleep still atop him, and awoke to find him staring up at her. A faint trace of sunlight crept beneath the flimsy door.”