Summer Siege (9 page)

Now her hands were
freed, they wound themselves up around his shoulders, gripping at the muscles
of his back as they rippled under her hands. His arousal pressed against the
juncture of her thighs, hard and intimidating, but still her hips thrust to
meet it, a deep seated instinctive reflex. 

His thumbs dug into
her ribs as his hands gripped at her, while his mouth worked from her swollen
lips, down her neck, to land at her collar bone. He tugged at the neckline of
her gown, wresting a frustrated growl from him when it would not give way.
Turning her around, she found herself pressed against the tree once more as he
slowly loosened her laces.

Shudders coursed
through her at the feel of moist breath on the back of her neck as he swept
aside her hair. Callused hands brushed at the tender skin as he slowly revealed
her back, pressing soft kisses to each newly revealed bit of flesh.

The laces now
loose, he let her gown gape open, the light breeze tickling the exposed skin.
As he pushed the fabric from her shoulder, he laid a searing kiss upon it, warm
and wet, while his other hand worked its way around to the front of her bliaut,
moulding and cupping at her breast through the fabric.

His name fell from
her lips in a whisper and in a sudden movement he pushed her gown down her arms,
before twirling her around to face him.

“I beg of you, if
you do not wish this then say it now.”

Madeline could say
naught, only mourn the loss of his lips upon her skin and realise that, once
again, the honour bound Tristan had returned, forever trying to protect her.
When
would he realise that she no longer needed his protection?
She looked at
him boldly as he awaited her answer, his hands clutched at his side in
restraint.

Slipping
off her shoes, she eyed him brazenly. With slow, deliberate movements, she
pulled her gown from just above her breasts, the fabric brushing against her
tender nipples. Heart pounding, courage filled her as she observed Tristan’s
awe stricken expression, and her dress pooled at her feet.

Tristan regarded
her exposed form with reverence, almost unable to believe what he beheld.
Madeline’s creamy figure, so achingly perfect, beckoned to him while she looked
upon him fearlessly. The slight shudder of her chest betrayed her trepidation
as he cast his eyes over her, absorbing every part. Her legs and arms were well
muscled but she retained her femininity, the sweet swell of her hips begging
for his grasp, and the proud thrust of her breasts almost brought him to his
knees.

Taking a step
towards her, a cry fell from her lips as she closed the gap and clung to his
neck. His hands connected with her silken flesh, the sensation more exquisite
than he ever thought it would be. For so long now he had imagined what his life
would have been like if he had not left – if  he had done as he had
promised and married her - but never in his wildest imaginings did he envisage
her growing into this extraordinary creature.

 Their mouths
met in an unyielding kiss, demanding and urgent as theirs tongues united, his
hands clamping around her back, stroking and kneading her skin. Madeline’s
impatient hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his back so her hands
could return the favour. Her delicate fingers stroked fervently across his
skin, exploring every ridge, every scar. 

Eager to feel her
suppleness against him, he tore away briefly so he could wrench his shirt over
his head. Moans of gratification arouse from them both as her pliant breasts
pressed against the solidity his chest and Tristan grabbed at her buttocks,
pulling her tight onto his arousal as they clamoured against each other, not
willing to allow a whisper of air between them.

With swift ease, he
laid her down onto the grass underneath the tree, his hands hooking under her
legs and head to place her down. His powerful frame on top of her momentarily
robbed her of her breath, not from the weight of him, but from the sheer joy of
having him so closely aligned with her yearning body.

The aroma of soil
and pasture mingled with the masculine scent of Tristan as he devoured her once
more, his teeth playing at her lips. His abrasive fingers lingered over the
tender skin of her thighs before crawling their way up her rib cage to cup at
her breasts. Extending into his reach, she gasped as the exquisite sensations
rocked through her, stirring the longing within. Her fingernails dug into the
smooth skin of his back as he pressed her into the soft earth, the grass
tickling at her skin.

His scorching mouth
traced a path down her throat, licking at the dip before trailing towards the
rise of her breasts and nuzzling between the mounds as his bristles scratched
at her flesh. Madeline’s fingers tangled in his hair as she clutched him to
her, directing him towards her throbbing nipples, desperate for the damp heat
of his mouth. He rewarded her with a lick to the peaked tips before clamping
his mouth around one, then the other, drawing a shuddering sob of pleasure from
her.

Finally
his fingers journeyed down to the spot that tormented her most, brushing gently
at her folds and fuelling the inferno. Arcing into his touch, she called his
name pleadingly and he answered her with the thrust of a finger. Overwhelming
sensations traversed through her at the double torment of his mouth upon her
breasts and his skilled fingers between her thighs and she feared she could
take no more. As she gripped at the grass, tearing it from the ground, she
called his name again, begging for him to end her agony.

Understanding her
need, Tristan quickly divested himself of his boots and chausses before
nestling between her legs. The gratifying feel of her heat against him was
almost the undoing of him, her fevered cries pushing him beyond all reason.
Drawing her legs around him, he entered her swiftly as they locked eyes, her
heat encompassing him in a pleasure so sharp it was akin to pain. He did not
miss her whimper, or the tensing of her body underneath him, and he looked at
her in surprise.

“Madeline,” he
whispered hoarsely, as he kissed away the discomfort, “why did you not tell
me?”

It had not occurred
to him that she would still be a maiden. With her confident manner, she reacted
to him with all the fire and thirst of an experienced woman. Five summers in
the world of men and she had waited to give herself to him.

“
’Tis
no matter.”
Her face flushed and her eyes hardened.  She
looked away but her hands gripped at his buttocks and urged him against her
once more.

Unable to stop
himself, he shifted against her and he was gratified to feel her body relax
under his. Bracing himself on one arm, he turned her face to meet his and the
defensive look dissipated. She gazed at him with passion once more as he
strengthened her pleasure with each thrust.

Tristan nipped at
her ears as they began to pick up the pace, Madeline responding to each lunge
with such vigour it were as if they were old lovers. Whispering words of love
to her as her fingernails scrabbled across his back and buttocks, he plunged
again and again until she clenched underneath him, her body going rigid as wave
after wave consumed her and she cried out his name.

With a cry, he
followed her, one final thrust laying claim to his heart, as he gave way to the
craving that had brought them both to this point. Chests heaving, they lay
languidly as Tristan brushed kisses across her face and she traced lazy
patterns over his skin.

Rolling onto his
side, he pulled her towards him and she snuggled into his embrace, as they both
relished the warmth of skin upon skin. The sun pricked across their bare flesh
but neither cared, the gratification of their act still swirling through their veins.

Her green eyes met
his, so full of innocence, yet still tainted with a suspicion that he had hoped
to erase. But still she nestled into him, his heart swelling painfully at the
feel of her slender frame in his embrace. He pressed his lips to her hair,
inhaling the smell, a fusion of nature and rose oil, and he thanked God for
returning her to him. Uttering a silent oath, he swore that he would not let
Madeline go a second time.

***

The day began to
give way to dusk, the light casting the land into a muted grey as the sun
settled. The chill in the air became more prominent as the two bodies remained
entwined.

Madeline wriggled
in Tristan’s grip, attempting to extricate herself as he pressed teasing kisses
to her neck and chest.

“Tristan, ‘tis
late, we must away.”

He laid a kiss upon
her lips as he kept her imprisoned in his strong arms. “Nay, I will not release
you.”

“You must,”
Madeline persisted, and suddenly she was unsure if they were talking of this
moment.

Reluctantly, he
released his hold, though she still had to wiggle her way out from them causing
them both untold frustration as their bodies brushed against one another. He
watched her as she retrieved her dress and slipped it over her head.

Standing to help,
still unashamedly naked, he strode towards her and Madeline found herself
longing for him once more.
How was it possible for her to want him again so
soon?
She had not realised giving into her desire would have such an
effect. In truth, she did not even know it could be like that between a man and
a woman. Desperately wanting to regret what had occurred, she found she could
not, for who could regret such a beautiful event?

His sun-beaten
chest stood before her once more and she took in every muscle, every dip.
Madeline could not help but drop her gaze to the part of him that had given her
such pleasure and she was amazed to see she was not the only one who was
aroused once more. The pure masculinity of him made her shudder and she
wondered how she could not have realised how virile he was. Certainly, she knew
he had always had a frightening effect on her but she had no idea that this
dangerous creature lay beneath his beautiful exterior.

As he tied the
laces at her back, an echo of how they began reverberated through her and she
willed herself to remain composed. Acute disappointment stabbed at her when his
fingers left her back, and she heard him move away to retrieve his clothes.
Keeping him out of sight, afraid of the consequences of viewing his body once
more, she attempted to tidy her hair, divesting it of the foliage that she had
collected.

“I will never
release you.”

Madeline turned
abruptly, her hands still in her hair. Tristan stood in his chausses and untied
shirt looking at her intently.

“What?”

“Marry me,
Madeline.” He moved swiftly towards her, drawing her hands from her hair and
gripping them fervently. “Pray end my agony, for you must know that I cannot
let you go now.”

“Tristan, I -”

“You would have
before. You cannot deny me now, surely?”

“I did not bed you
so you would marry me!” Madeline backed away from him, a convoluted mixture of
fear, excitement and sadness coursing through her.

“You mistake me; I
mean to say that you cannot deny me after seeing how it is between us… how ‘
twould
continue to be.”

“Forgive me,
Tristan, I cannot…” She looked away, fingering her dress uncomfortably,
dreading the look of disappointment.

He looked at her in
pure frustration, his eyes blazing. “You would offer yourself up to me, make
love to me as no other woman could, look at me with such passion, yet you will
not marry me? What torturous game is this, Madeline?”

“
’Tis
no game, forgive me for tormenting you so, ‘twas
unintentional. Pray remember you played a role in this seduction as much as I,”
She tilted her chin slightly, attempting to
steel
her
resolve, “But I will not be beholden to any man.”

Tristan paced
before her, his jaw working in frustration before turning. “I am not your
father; I would never mistreat you so.”

His voice rose with
frustration and Madeline gulped, his irate manner so unlike the man she knew.

“I know that,” she
murmured.

Gripping her arms
suddenly, he forced her to look at him. “So why then is it such a terrible
notion? I would treat you with only the adoration you deserve. We would be
happy…”

She could say
naught, knowing that he was probably right but unable to bring herself to say
as much.

Gentle fingers
stroked over her cheeks as he cupped her face and looked at her with such
desolation that it wrenched at her heart.  He leant in giving her a sweet
kiss before dropping his hands to his side, his face still close enough that
she would only need to stand on tiptoes and their lips would meet once more.

With a sigh, he
regarded her. “I spent five summers mourning you, I will not spend another. I
wash my hands of you, Madeline.”

Turning swiftly
from her, Tristan strode away, making his way back down the embankment towards
the village, his fast pace taking him quickly from her.

Madeline could do
naught but watch, her leaden feet rooting her to the spot. Tears burned behind
her eyes and her heart thudded painfully but she could not bring herself to run
after him. She had achieved what she wanted, he would be free of a foolish oath
he made long ago and she would retain her freedom. Why then did it cause her
such distress? Mayhap she was the fool, for she had just let the most
honourable man she had ever known slip through her fingers.