Strangclyf Secret (22 page)

“
I like that you are honest
with me and tell me how you feel.” Bernon lowered into the bath,
sat on the ledge, and leaned forward. “Scrub hard. I am wearing
most of the dirt between Londontown and Strangclyf.”

Barwolf sat on the edge of
the pool behind him with her feet dangling in the water. She wet
the cloth and lathered it, then began scrubbing his back and
shoulders. “Women take their own baths, but men need help. Why is
that, do you suppose?”

Bernon smiled. Only his
innocent bride would ask such a question. “Men do not need help.
They just enjoy having women scrub their backs.”

“
Why?”

“
Magic.”

“
Oh.” She trailed her
fingers through the slick suds over a scar running diagonally from
his right shoulder blade to his left flank. “’Twas a mighty wound
you survived.”

He sucked in his breath
and tensed as her touch sizzled through his flesh. “’Twas not so
mighty.”

“
Aye, it was. ‘Tis another
reason I feel safe with you. God surely smiles upon you to give you
such strength and valor.” She set down her cloth, lifted the urn,
and filled it with water. “Can you tilt your head back for me,
please?”

He complied and she poured
water over his hair, then lathered the strands. She ran a finger
over his jaw then continued scrubbing his scalp. “You have several
days of whiskers. Do you want me to shave you?”

She had to be jesting! He
would have to be daft to let a hand with her nervous tremors near
him with a blade. “Have you ever shaved anyone before?”

“
Nay, but my dagger is very
sharp.”

Sharp enough to slit his
throat no doubt. “Why don’t we wait until you’re more rested and
not so jittery?”

“
I have plenty of energy.”
Her hands stopped moving in his hair. “Do you still think I would
try to kill you?”

“
Nay.”

“
Then you trust me?” she
asked with a hopeful lilt.

Aye
flashed through his mind, shocking him that she had won his
trust so easily. “Do you want to shave me for some reason in
particular?”

“
I like looking at your
face. ‘Tis too fine a sight to keep covered.”

He must be going daft. He
was about to prove true valor just to make his woman happy. “If you
truly feel you will not be unsteady from nervousness or fatigue,
then you may shave me. Finish my hair and wash my face
first.”

“
Close your eyes.” As his
eyelids lowered, she soaped up his face then rinsed his entire head
with water from the urn. Setting aside the urn, she began toweling
his face dry.

“
Now you need to lather up
my lower face and upper lip,” he said through the linen.

“
But I just rinsed there.”
She lowered the cloth and frowned.

“’
Twill soften my whiskers
and make them easier to shave.” He opened one eye and peered at
her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She nodded and lathered up
his lower face. “I will be right back.”

Barwolf ran behind the
screen at the far end of the chamber and returned carrying the
pearl-handled dagger. Sitting on the edge of the pool beside him,
she scrunched her face in thought. “This seems an awkward angle,
Bernon. Do you suppose ‘twould be all right if I get in the water
with you?”

“
I
suppose
I want you as
comfortable as possible while you wield that
blade.”

“
Does that mean I
can?”

Bernon released a long
martyred sigh. “Aye.”

She slipped into the water
and moved around in front of him. “Lean forward please, so I can
reach you.”

“
Come kneel astride my
lap.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him. “You will be
steadier.”

She straddled his thighs,
balanced a hand on his shoulder, and smiled. “This is better. Now I
can reach you without being awkward.”

“
Move the blade in the
direction the hair grows,” he instructed, steeling himself for the
hundreds of nicks he expected to suffer.

Barwolf leaned close,
gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she carefully shaved away his
beard. Her meticulous exactness soon eased his fears, then all he
could think about was how tight and hot her small core was going to
feel when he slid inside her. Her breasts rubbed against his chest
and he felt her nipples harden. She gasped and looked in his eyes,
swallowing hard.

“
Are you too shaky to
finish?” he asked gruffly.

“
I have only your upper lip
left,” she replied in a wavering voice.

“
You didn’t answer my
question.”

“
I can finish as long as my
bosom does not touch you again.” She scraped away the rest of his
whiskers and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she set the blade on
the floor behind him and cupped his cheeks. “There now. I can see
you again. Do you suppose I can bathe your chest and arms from
here? ‘Twill be easier to reach.”

“
Aye.” He wasn’t going to
last through much more of her tending.

As she reached for the
soap and cloth, Bernon sat up straighter and her breasts collided
with his chest. She gasped and rubbed her hands over her taut
nipples.

“
Do they feel tight?” he
asked, strongly tempted to replace her rubbing hand with his
mouth.

She nodded. “And hot. I
cannot help it, Bernon. Maybe I should hurry and finish your bath
before my body gets more feverish.” She soaped up the rag and
rubbed his chest and arms, studying the contours. She outlined
every muscle and trailed every scar with her fingers behind the
cloth. As her hands slid across his flesh, his shaft stiffened and
moved between her legs. She raised apprehensive eyes to his. “Are
you going to do magic now?”

Damnation! She looked
terrified, and where in perdition was his self-control? “Give me
the cloth,” he said in a voice more harsh than he intended. “I’ll
finish my bath.”

She began wringing the rag
between her hands. “Did I do something that displeased
you?”

“
Nay,” he said, prying the
cloth from her. “You pleased me just fine. Have a seat on the ledge
beside me.”

She sat on the ledge with
a good two feet between them and began inching farther and farther
away. Bernon made short work of his bath then reached out, grabbed
her arm, and pulled her onto his lap. “Where do you think you’re
going?”

“
To the other end of the
ledge…but it didn’t help,” she said, letting her eyes fall on
everything but him.

God’s teeth, she sounded
distraught. “Help what?”

“
My body not feel so
feverish and achy,” she murmured. “’Tis getting
uncomfortable.”

“
I want your body burning
for mine,” he said huskily. “I’m on fire for you
already.”

She swallowed and ran her
fingers through her hair. “Are you going to kiss me and rub my
bottom now?”

“
Aye, and I want you
kneeling astride me when I do.” He took her by the waist and
repositioned her straddling his lap.

She splayed her hands
against his chest and stared at his chin. “This was making me feel
tight and achy before.”

“
I want
you tight and achy. ‘Twill help you enjoy the magic.” His hands
kneaded her soft derriere and moved her closer so his arousal
nestled between her legs. She closed her eyes and scrunched her
face as her body trembled and her hands braced against him. She
felt like a board so rigid was her spine. “Relax,
cheri
. Lean against me
and tell me what you are feeling.”

She leaned against him and
hid her face in his neck. “I am tight in my bosoms and achy between
my legs and fluttery in my stomach and nervous and embarrassed and
scared.”

He smiled, gloating over
her litany of feelings. “You didn’t relax.”

“
I’m
sorry, Bernon. I
am
trying, but I’m too nervous.”

“
Do you want me to stop
rubbing your bottom?”

She shook her head against
his throat and her curls tickled his chin. “I like you rubbing my
bottom. I want you to put your wand back down. ‘Tis making me ache
worse.”

“
Your ache will not go away
until I poke you with it.”

“
I didn’t know. Will you
tell me what to do?”

“
Tilt your head back, so I
can kiss you.”

Barwolf raised her face
and he brushed his lips over hers in a gentle caress. She
instinctively moved her arms around him, sliding her hands into his
wet hair and rubbing her breasts against his chest, answering his
call. She slanted her mouth and flicked her tongue over his lower
lip. “Mmm, you still taste spicy and delicious.”

Encouraged by her eager
response, he gripped the back of her head in one big palm and
thrust his tongue into her mouth. She tasted better than he
remembered—all hot and honey-sweet. She rubbed against his shaft
and he grasped her hips, stilling the evocative movement. Then he
drank the moan she spilled into his mouth, savoring the plea of her
budding desires.

He growled encouragement
as his mouth left hers, nipping and licking her jaw, chin, neck,
and shoulder. He arched her backward over his arm and suckled the
pulse point at the base of her neck, memorizing her feel and
further stirring her ardor. She started making erotic whimpers that
sent fire blazing through his veins. Moving his mouth lower, he
covered one breast and teased her with wet lips and suction while
massaging her other breast with his callused palm.

Her breathing mounted to
passionate pants. “Bernon, I need to move. I feel like I am on fire
between my legs and I want you to rub me like you did
before.”

“
Not yet. Do not move,” he
ordered then repositioned his mouth and sucked her other breast
while his roving hand caressed down her side, along her thigh, and
back to her buttock. He let his fingers graze along her crease
without dipping into the sensitive folds.

An erotic quaver rippled
through her body and she clawed at his shoulders. “Bernon, I cannot
stand this. I ache so bad that if I do not move, I’ll
explode.”

He released her nipple,
nipped the rosy flesh then blew on her tight nub, exciting a gasp
from her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Good God, she was
hot, pliant, and so incredibly delicious. Sucking her pebbled peak
back into his mouth, he moved his fingers and rubbed the tender
flesh at the center of her desire.

She moaned and her hands
moved to his scalp, holding his head to her breast. “Oh, Bernon, I
like this a lot.”

Bernon was close to
exploding himself. He pulsated with a need to thrust into her, and
honest to God, he wouldn’t last much longer. She bucked against his
hand, caressing the length of his shaft. Water lapped and splashed
against his chest furthering the tantalization. He released her
breast and hissed in a deep breath as he leaned his forehead
against the valley between her breasts, fighting for
control.

How in perdition did
anyone find the patience to take a virgin? ‘Twas easier to battle
angry Saxons with no weapon outnumbered six to one. Hell, he had to
have her now. He slid one long finger into her sheath, feeling her
stretch around him.

She went rigid and pushed
on his shoulders. “Nay, Bernon, you’re hurting me.”

“
Relax,
cheri
. ‘Twill make it easier for you.” Twining his other fingers
in her hair, he seized her mouth with a savage intensity. He
plunged his tongue in and out of her mouth, using the same rhythm
his finger used in her sheath. The stroking drove him wild as the
tempo commanded the reawakening of her desire for him. He moved his
thumb to her precious nub, re-exciting her passion. She whimpered
in surrender as her body stretched and adapted to his invasion. Her
hands tentatively massaged his shoulders then her caresses grew
bolder. She dueled with his tongue, and her pelvis jutted forward
into his hand.

She was tiny and tight,
but he would erupt if he didn’t take her now. He didn’t want to
hurt her, but wasn’t the first time always difficult? He removed
his finger, and she whimpered into his mouth as she lost the erotic
caress. He adjusted her position so the tip of his shaft was at her
opening, then he began pushing inside her, slow and
steady.

She jerked her mouth from
his and pushed at his chest. “Nay, Bernon.”

“’
Twill
be painful because you’re so small and ‘tis your first time. I
cannot change that, but your body will grow used to my size if you
relax.” She closed her eyes on a groan, clenched her jaw, and
leaned her forehead against his chest. He moved farther inside her
until he felt hot tears scalding his flesh. Damnation! “Look at
me,
ma petite.”

She raised agonized eyes
to his. He cupped her cheeks and gave her a tender kiss, tasting
her salty tears, then gazed into her eyes.

“
Are you almost through?”
she asked in a quivering voice.