"You please me more than I can tell you, Liza."
Bending his head, he traced the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck and onto the soft flesh of her left shoulder. Very slowly, very gently, he drew her naked body against his own bare chest.
"You are more beautiful than any goddess in the heavens," he said, cradling her so tenderly she might well have been a delicate crystal vase.
As her nipples touched his flesh, Liza felt her knees wanting to give way. Growing warmth tumbled in waves through her lower body and she felt as though her flesh was on fire. She trembled not so much from her shyness and awkwardness as from the heady sensations this man was causing her to feel. She was throbbing to his heartbeat; breathing to his own shallow intake of breath.
Conar spread his hands up and across her back, molding her to him. Her body seemed to be melting into his and he closed his eyes, willing their bodies into one inseparable entity. He could feel the entire length of her along his flesh and he was quivering with a passion so great he was aching from it.
"Oh, Liza," he mumbled against the top of her hair, "I am on fire with need for you."
"I am yours. "Do with me as you will, Milord."
Her words brought a groan of desire from his lips and he pushed her away just far enough so he could lower his head and slant his mouth across hers. His tongue prodded her lips gently open so he could delve inside and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Her immediate moan of pleasure was nearly his undoing.
Standing on tiptoes, straining against him as he kissed her, Liza could feel the rough warmth of his chest against her own flesh. Her nipples were erect with passion, tingling from the contact. She could feel the foreign hardness pressing along the lower part of her belly and she instinctively pressed against it. She heard the deep growl in his throat as his kiss deepened and he began to ravage her lips with his own.
Their kiss lasted a long time, neither wanting to break the contact. His tongue invaded her mouth, circled her tongue, flicked delicately along her lips. He nibbled on her lower lip and fleetingly caught her tongue as she shyly ventured to enter his mouth. Her little muffled squeal of protest made him smile around the kiss he was bestowing upon her willing mouth. He drew back and looked at her. "I didn’t hurt you."
"No, but you did other things to me, Milord," she shot back.
"And I shall do more, my pretty!" He wagged his brows at her like a villain of the old tales.
Liza tossed her heavy tresses and her eyes blazed with challenge. "Will you, now, Milord?" She gave him a saucy grin. "Care to show me?"
Conar bent his knees and gripped her tightly around her waist, hefting her with no effort at all. He craned his neck and gazed up at her. "I shall have you begging me for release, Mam’selle!"
Liza’s hands were on his shoulders as he held her aloft. She giggled. "Is that so?"
"Aye, it is."
She could feel the press of his manhood where she knew he wanted it to be and she gasped as he ground himself against her.
"Feel anything you like, Mam’selle?" he inquired, one tawny brow lifting in query.
Liza cocked her head to one side and pretended to think. "However would I, a tender virgin, know, good sir?"
Conar threw back his head and laughed, his chest rumbling with mirth. He swung her around and around, listening to her giggling bursts of protest. When he stopped, his arms tightened almost to the point of pain around her body.
"However, indeed, unless I show you, Mam’selle?" he returned.
Liza felt herself sliding down his body, could feel the roughness of his cord breeches as he raised his knee, bracing his foot on the bottom rung of the bedside chair and lowered her astride the steel muscles of his left thigh. Her mouth opened in a little round o of surprise.
"Aye." He chuckled, watching her expression. "And far more than just that, Milady." He grinned as her thigh muscles instinctively clamped around his own. He lowered his knee, breaking the intimate contact, and saw her lips form a deprived pout.
"I think you toy with me, Milord," she whispered.
"You think so?" he asked, pulling her to him again.
"Aye." She wiggled against him, wanting the pressure of that hardness between her thighs once more.
"All in good time," he told her, turning her around so her back was to his chest. He circled her in his arms and lowered his head to plant nipping kisses along her neck and shoulder. He could feel her body humming with pleasure and he breathed in the sweet aroma of lavender that was Liza’s special scent. He threaded his fingers through hers and lifted her left arm above her head. His lips ran gently down her tingling flesh, his tongue circling the tender area inside her elbow. He trailed his fingers down her arm, drew his knuckles over the curve of her breast, and then pulled her to him as he locked her in his arms once more.
Liza squealed, feeling his manhood move along her rump. She tried to turn, but he wouldn’t let her. He held her to him and slipped his tongue inside her ear.
"Milord!" she breathed and her body was on fire with a need she had only heard existed.
"Milady," he whispered and let his tongue work magic along the perimeter of her ear.
"Milord, please!" she groaned.
"Milady, not yet," he answered and moved his hips from side to side, letting her feel the tumescence of this shaft prodding her firm derriere.
"Oh, sweet Alel," she murmured and closed her eyes, panting.
"Nay. Sweet Conar." He chuckled and began to roll her left nipple between his fingertips.
"Oh!" she exclaimed and sagged against him, sure she would faint, but he held her up, molded her to him. "Please."
"Are you sure?"
Her breathing came shallow and quick. "Aye, I am gods-be-damned positive!"
Conar chuckled deep in his throat. Bending his knees, he placed a hand beneath her back, the other beneath her knees and lifted her high against him. Carrying her to his bed, he laid her on the silken coverlet and bent over her, his eyes smoldering with a passion he was finding harder and harder to control. The fine matting of blond hair in the center of his chest glistened with sweat.
"Aren’t you warm, Milord?" she asked, moistening her lips with a nervous tongue.
His eyes followed the sweep of that pink flesh and lingered on the wetness left behind. He raised his eyes to her. "Woman, I am on fire."
"And I am ready, sweet Conar." Her face pinked with her own brazenness.
It was all he could do not to fall on her like a ravaging beast. When her tongue came out to lick at the fullness of her upper lip, he groaned with agony and his hands flew to the buttons of his breeches.
Liza followed those strong fingers as they tore at the pearl buttons, flinched as he shoved the breeches away from his lower body and stepped out of them, kicking them away with force. Her face burned as she took in the full, naked, male beauty that was Conar McGregor. She let her gaze follow every curve, every angle, every hollow, every rise and flow of his magnificent body. She caught a glimpse of a small scar here, a larger one there, but none of them distracted from his male perfection. If anything, the scars added a mystique and sexuality to his otherwise flawless physique.
She frowned prettily as he hesitated, hovering over her, one arm braced on the headboard as he gazed down at her with longing. She watched his smile become genuine, giving, loving, waiting.
"Do you want me, lass?" he whispered. "Me, the man. Not the Prince Regent?"
Liza answered his challenging smile with one of her own and lifted her arms to him.
He didn’t touch her, only covered her body with his own, his elbows bracing him from coming into full contact with her as he joined her on the bed. He gently wedged his right knee between her thighs, easing her legs apart so he could insinuate his other leg between hers. Settling down, he touched her with his hard male length and rested gently atop her.
"Liza," he said, his voice tight with need.
"Aye, Beloved," she answered. Her left hand came up to cup his cheek.
"I can not wait, my lady."
Liza ran her thumb over his bottom lip. "And you are afraid you will hurt me?"
He could only nod, not trusting himself to speak for fear his voice would break like an eleven-year-old boy’s and spoil the moment.
"I have always known it would hurt, Milord." Her arms went around his shoulders, pulling him to her. "Take me, Conar." She heard him groan. "Take me as you wish."
Chapter 12
* * *
Liza awoke the next morning to a bright day filled with sunshine flooding through the casement window. Conar’s body lay curled behind her own, his arm draped possessively over her bare waist. She could feel the softness of his breath against her hair, the hard intrusion of one knee between her thighs. She could smell the warm and musky scent of cinnamon oil that he used as an aftershave lotion and the smell made her smile.
She tried to ease out from under the dead weight of his arm, but the slight movement must have startled him awake, for his hand tightened on her flesh and he mumbled against her neck as he shifted closer.
"Are you awake, Milord?" she whispered. Her smile widened as he mumbled again and placed his lips on the nape of her neck. A quiver ran down her naked spine as his tongue traced a light pattern on her flesh.
Conar had been awake for quite some time, content to just lie beside this beautiful woman, holding her to him. When he first opened his eyes, he had been surprised, disoriented, unsure of whom the woman beside him was. It was not an uncommon experience for the young Prince. He was nevertheless alarmed during that first full moment of wakefulness since he had sworn himself to celibacy only a few days earlier; but the wafting scent of lavender had drifted under his nostrils and an image of Liza, naked and glorious beneath him, flew across his mind.
His heart swelled with an emotion he did not recognize just as that part of him that had thoroughly enjoyed this lady the evening before swelled with the memory of her lovely body. His smile as he lay there was filled with rapt wonder.
"Milord?" Liza whispered again as his tongue swirled over her skin. "I must go now."
"Nay, you may not, Milady," he muttered as he drew his invading knee higher between her open thighs. "By royal decree, you can not leave this man’s arms until he is sated."
"Milord!" Liza gasped and tried to wiggle away, but he wouldn’t allow it, capturing her left breast within one hot palm.
"You are needed here," he said, his voice still groggy and hoarse from sleep. He bared his teeth and nipped her along the column of her neck, grinning as she jumped.
" ’Tis unseemly, Milord," she protested and tried to remove his hand from her breast.
Conar nestled even closer, raising his head and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I see no one watching us, Lady. Do you?"
She twisted her head to look at him. "The rain has stopped, Milord, and it is well past dawn. Gezelle will awake and find me gone. My bed has not been slept in."
"So?" he murmured, digging his chin into her shoulder and laughing as she scrunched up her shoulder in protest.
"Do you not wish to leave for Boreas this morn? And what will our good hosts think if we do not come down soon to break our fasts?"
"The Rucks can wait and so can Boreas. It will be there when we arrive." He ran his tongue along the ridge of her shoulder bone. "I have pressing business here."
Liza’s stomach tightened with desire. "But you were in such a hurry yesterday," she said in a daze, as his hand began to knead the soft mound of her breast. "I think you would be glad for the good weather."
"The weather be damned." He yawned, pushed up on one elbow and kissed the side of her face. "Besides, ’tis not my horse I wish to ride this morn, wench."
Feeling the tumescence of his shaft prodding her rump, Liza pushed against his arm, tried to pry his fingers from her breast. "Milord! In the daylight?"
"Daylight, moonlight, starlight, sunlight, firelight, what difference does it make, woman?" He withdrew his knee and allowed her to turn onto her back, although he still kept captive the soft mound of her flesh. "You light the fires of my passion whenever and wherever we are, Milady."
"But in the morning, Milord?"
Conar shrugged, his lips stretching into a leering grin. "Liza-love, it is most unseemly to arouse a man and then leave him aching with need."
Liza’s eyes opened wide. "I have done nothing to arouse you!" she flung back at him and resumed her effort to free her breast from his light grip.
"You are lying naked in my bed, Lady. That is reason enough to arouse me." Withdrawing his hand, he moved with a liquid grace and settled on top of her, grinning in her startled face. "And I have an appetite not easily filled."
"So I have noticed. May I suggest having Dorrie bring you up something?"
"She has nothing to offer that I need to fill this appetite, Sweeting." He lowered his head and captured her lips.
* * *
Watching Conar as he dressed, Liza admired the smooth curve of his lean flanks as he pulled on his breeches. The creamy tan cords settled with a snug fit over his hips and thighs and high-rounded rump. Stretching, she stared intently at him as he pulled the light blue silk shirt over his tousled blond hair, tugging it down his broad chest and tucking it into his breeches. Her knowing grin as he slid his wide leather belt through the thick loops of his waistband and then fastened the heavy brass buckle made him glance at her with a cocked brow.
"Am I entertaining you, Mam’selle?"
Liza nodded slowly. "Not as much as when you removed your clothing, Milord."
Conar chuckled. "Brazen hussy."
Liza remembered something she had wanted to ask him earlier. "Where did you come by those marks on your back?" she asked, thinking of the thin, almost transparent, crisscrossed lines all along his shoulders and waist. She had thought he must have been pitched from his horse into a bush of brambles. She wasn’t at all prepared for his curt answer.
"Kaileel Tohre’s belt," he answered calmly, glancing up as he drew together the laces of his shirt. He looked away again, searching for his missing boots.
"That priest who was at Norus? Why would he whip you?"
"Because I disobeyed him," he answered and then stooped down to retrieve a boot that was hiding beneath Liza’s discarded gown.
"By what right did a priest have to whip you?" she asked, hating anyone who would hurt this beautiful man.
Conar came to sit on the bed beside her to pull on his boots. "I really don’t want to talk about this, Liza. It was a long time ago when I was a small boy." He tugged on one shiny brown boot; his mouth set in a stubborn line she had come to recognize all too well.
Sensing she should change the subject, Liza brought up her knees and locked them together within the perimeter of her arms, resting her chin on top.
"You do have the most uncommonly perfect body, Milord."
Conar snapped his head around and stared at her. He laughed at her wistful expression and raised one golden brow. "And just how many naked men have you seen, my pretty?"
Liza shrugged. "A few."
"And where was this?" he asked as he drew on his other boot.
"About," she answered and grinned as he ruefully shook his head at her.
"You give away no secrets, do you, Mam’selle?"
"I have no secrets, Milord," she answered brightly, lifting her head to look him in the eye.
Conar guffawed, sending her a disbelieving look.
"Well," she corrected, drawing out her answer, "only a few."
"Such as where your home is." He stood.
Liza pursed her lips in a pretend pout. "Just why is that of such major import to you, Milord?"
He shrugged his wide shoulders into his soft leather jacket. "Because I am curious about you, Mam’selle."
"You know what they say about cats, don’t you, my sweet Prince?"
Conar chuckled and headed for the door. "Be up with you, lady. We ride within the hour."
"What?" She threw him a
disbelieving look.
"I changed my mind about the weather. ’Tis a fine day for riding my horse, too!" He grinned; shutting the door behind him as a pillow came flying across the room.
He skipped down the stairs two at a time, a wide grin of contentment on his handsome face. He felt alive and his heart was as light as the sweet rays of sunlight playing over the stair treads. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his breeches and whistled. It was, indeed, a very fine day for riding.
Gezelle looked up as her Overlord came down the stairs. She stood, curtsying as he joined her, swinging one long leg over the back of a chair and sliding down. She was amazed he would lower himself to sit at table with a mere servant.
"How do you feel this morn, ’Zelle?" he asked, grinning at the girl’s bright red nose and watering eyes. "If you don’t feel like traveling with us, you can stay and I’ll send one of my Elite back for you in a coach."
Gezelle shook her head. "I’m well enough, Your Grace." She did not miss the self-satisfied look on her Prince’s face any more than she had missed the unused bed in which her mistress should have passed the eve before. "Did you sleep well, Your Grace?"
"I slept very little," he answered, winking audaciously at her as he motioned for her to sit with him.
Blushing to the roots of her hair, Gezelle quickly settled opposite him, dipping her burning face so he could not see.
"Are you sure you feel well enough to travel?" When she nodded, he eyed her carefully. "You’re really sure?"
She looked at him and could see true concern, not a hope that he and the lady might travel on alone. "I am well enough, Your Grace."
Conar nodded, picking up his fork as the serving wench placed a platter of pork chops before him. He ignored the girl even as she deliberately brushed her left breast against his arm as she straightened.
But Gezelle had not missed the action and turned a glare of disapproval to the tavern maid who still stood expectantly beside their Overlord. A protectiveness Gezelle meant for not only Prince Conar, but Lady Liza, as well, put steel in the former Norus servant’s backbone.
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