To be sure, he had survived worse. That was what tormented him. His every muscle was tight with tension, his innards were tied in knots. Memories flashed through his thoughts, unwelcome and unwanted but persistent all the same.
Oh, Angus remembered. He remembered men reduced to little more than skin and bones, he remembered suffering and fetters and oozing wounds. He remembered the sounds of men being tortured to surrender whatever they knew, he remembered the terror of knowing naught and being powerless to persuade anyone of it. He swallowed, remembered the heat of a poker searing his own flesh, the sight of his own eye removed, the sound of his own voice as he screamed in agony.
He remembered the sound of a guard’s footsteps in the corridor, the sound of a key in a lock and how it could make one’s heart stop beating in fear. He recalled the terror of wondering whether they came for him this time, the dreadful certainty that the man dragged away would not return. He knew the sound of limbs being removed, of execution, of jailor’s keys and scurrying rats. He knew all these things and he would never forget them.
Especially when he was surrounded by darkness and stone. His heart raced in the darkness, his guts might have been tied in knots, a thread of sweat trickled down his back. He recalled the men he had known, the valiant knights and squires with whom he had been captured. He knew the order in which they had died, some in his presence, some distant but audible. It had been a year and a half since his release and the torment did not ease.
He expected it never would.
And she thought he would tell her of it.
What innocent faith she had that his tale could not be so terrible! Angus cupped Jacqueline’s face in his palm and laid his cheek against the softness of her own, taking solace in her presence, in her ignorance of the evils of the world. When he was weakened like this, he would take solace where it could be found.
He felt her breathing change, though not in time to draw back. He began to apologize, but she touched his lips with her fingertips, mimicking his earlier gesture. He saw her smile, then she stretched up and touched her lips to his own.
Angus froze, knowing he had no right to partake of what feast she offered. Jacqueline though had learned too quickly and she slipped her tongue across his lips, coaxing him to join her.
He shuddered with desire but shook his head, knowing he had to refuse her but sorely tempted to not do so. “You go to the convent,” he whispered. “In but one more day, you will be there, your maidenhead intact.”
“I care naught for my maidenhead, and none will know ’tis lacking unless I tell them,” she replied, as ardent in her determination as he fought to be in his own. “Show me, Angus, show what ’tis I surrender in this.”
“I cannot,” he insisted, though his will was not so vehement as his words.
She laid a hand upon his hardness with a surety that was far from innocent. “Aye, you can. Was it not you who told me that a chivalrous man must grant a woman her desire?” He heard the laughter in her voice and yearned anew for a taste of her sunshine. “I have but one opportunity to know the truth of what happens betwixt men and women. I would know of it now, Angus, and I would learn of it with you.”
He shook his head, yet clinging to his certainty that ’twould make him a knave to take what she offered. “You do not understand...”
“And I do not care.” Jacqueline kissed the corners of his mouth in quick succession, then whispered against his lips, the fan of her breath melting his resistance. “Love me, Angus, and let the once suffice for all.”
When she kissed him fully and with rare resolve, his resistance abandoned him, like the pollen of a flower scattered in the wind.
Chapter Thirteen
Jacqueline knew the very moment that Angus surrendered to her. His touch changed, the restraint in his manner dissolved, and she felt his passion unleashed. Angus had introduced her to such tenderness and sensation that she was anxious to know more.
She was curious.
And she desired Angus, as well. There was something about this man that made her aware of her femininity, that made her yearn to understand what intimacy passed between men and women. She had decided impulsively that ’twas a sign that she should discover the truth of it with him.
Perhaps that was but an excuse. Either way, there was a quickening in her blood when he kissed her so ardently as he did now, as though her own flesh knew more of what would come than she did herself. His hands roved over her as he tasted her and she echoed his gestures, determined to give as much as she was granted. She felt the span of his shoulders, the muscles in his upper arms. the corded strength of his neck. She matched him, touch for touch, savoring every sensation even as ’twas excelled by the next.
Angus caught her close. Jacqueline felt the chill of the stone against her back and smiled when he was stretched out beside her. ’Twas as though they lay abed, though the rock was not the softest pallet they might have known. Jacqueline did not care. The cave was filled with the darkness of midnight, the rhythmic fall of the rain in the forest the only sound that carried to her ears.
There was naught but they two. If they had lain in a palace of richest ornament, upon pillows of fine silk and amidst expensive perfumes, his touch would not have pleased her more.
Angus slid one broad palm down the length of her. Jacqueline rose to his touch, feeling like a cat stroked before the fire. He chuckled and repeated his gesture, lingering upon her hip, the indent of her waist, the fullness of her breast. She twined her arms around his neck and arched against him, tangling her fingers in his hair and offering her lips for his kiss.
He held her nape in one hand, his other cupping her breast as he kissed her deeply. The teasing of his fingers made her gasp against his lips and she felt him smile. He eased the neck of the chemise open, and the heat of his hand suddenly caressed her bared flesh. Jacqueline knew that she had never felt so aflame, nor had she felt such urgency for more within her belly before.
Angus loosed the drawstring further, his hand sliding lower even as his teeth drew the neckline wider. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear, his hand sliding over her belly, before his fingers slipped into the nest of curls below.
’Twas more wondrous than she could have imagined. She reveled in his touch and the rising tide within herself, running her hands over him. She wanted to please him as he pleased her, but hesitated to reach beneath his own chemise. Sensation overwhelmed her all too soon, leaving her powerless to think, let alone respond.
Angus took her to the brink of release, then let his fingers slip over her thighs. Jacqueline moaned that he denied her such pleasure and wriggled against his hand impatiently.
Angus laughed quietly. “’Twill be all the better for the wait, vixen,” he promised, then coaxed her to the precipice once again.
When he withdrew this time, she cursed him in jest and they laughed together, as though they coupled thus all the time. Indeed, his ploy fed her hunger for him and loosed her inhibitions as surely as the tie of that chemise. Jacqueline became bolder and more demanding.
She could feel his response to that, straining against her hip.
Angus spoke the truth, for each time she danced higher and more breathlessly. She clung to him and kissed him and ran her teeth across his neck. She twined her legs with his, she entreated him, she kissed him anew.
He shivered and growled deep in his throat. She caught hold of his erection through his chausses and caressed him with gentle persistence.
He gasped in a most satisfactory way, then hauled her against his length. His fingertips danced with new vigor, his tongue cavorted with hers as though he might swallow her whole. Jacqueline ascended that peak with dizzying speed, and she screamed aloud as she abruptly found release.
“Angus!” she cried, her voice echoing in the cavern. He held her fast while the passion exploded within her, then clasped her tightly while the tremors subsided.
Jacqueline clung to him, closing her eyes against the thunder of her heartbeat. When she caug
ht her breath, she realized her fingernails were nigh embedded in his shoulders.
“I have hurt you!” she whispered. She rained kisses upon the flesh that must be marked by her nails, then glanced up to his face.
Contrary to her fears, she saw the rare flash of his smile.
“And?” There was a wealth of pride in that single word, a faith in his own ability to please that made Jacqueline smile in turn. He caught her close, clearly well pleased with what he had wrought.
“You did not mislead me, Angus,” she declared, cupping his face in her hands. “For ’twas indeed all the finer for having waited.” She kissed him and noted now the tremor of his own desire.
’Twas time she paid her own due.
“But then, you never have misled me,” she whispered, liking very well that this was the man who would first know her fully.
Jacqueline kissed Angus anew, even as his hands slid beneath her chemise to cup her buttocks. He squeezed them, then lifted the linen garment away, breaking their kiss that it might be cast over her head.
Jacqueline found the hem of his tunic and made to remove it as well, but Angus seized her wrists. “Nay,” he began to argue, punctuating his denial with a kiss to her temple.
He wanted only to protect her from the sight of him, though Jacqueline did not imagine ’twas so fearsome as he believed. “’Tis dark, Angus, you need not fear what I might see.”
Still he was resolute. “Nay, Jacqueline.”
“I would touch you in truth. I would know how a man is wrought.” She curled against him and heard his quick intake of breath. “I would feel your flesh against my own.”
Aye, he was not indifferent to what she offered. Jacqueline kissed him in her own turn, using her teeth and her tongue until he moaned beneath her caress. She kissed his ear and felt him shiver, then reached for the hem anew.
“Stubborn wench,” he whispered, though he did not fight her.
“Aye, most stubborn indeed.” Jacqueline flung the tunic aside, sending his chemise after it in short order.
“You will regret this course.”
“Nay, not I.”
His flesh was smooth beneath her hands, though he stiffened when her fingers strayed toward his right chest. She did not touch him further there, understanding all too well that he would not find such a caress pleasurable.
She spread her hands flat against him, intrigued by the smoothness of his skin, the wiry hair she found in the midst of his chest and on his forearms, the sinew of muscle beneath. Her hands slid down his torso to his waist, over his flat taut belly.
Then she hesitated, her hands stilling upon him.
Angus chuckled. “But you are not so bold as you would have others believe,” he teased.
Jacqueline felt herself blush. “I do not know how men’s chausses are fastened,” she insisted, though that was not entirely true. She had never unfastened a man’s chausses, but she had eyes in her head. It seemed impossibly bold to simply disrobe him.
But Angus was either unaware of her shyness or untroubled by it.
“The lace is in the front,” he purred, taking her hands in his. “Let me help you find it.” Again, she thought she heard a thread of laughter in his words.
But he laid her hands upon the front of his chausses and she forgot all else than what was beneath her fingers. She felt the lace, but she was more aware of the strength of him beneath the barrier of the wool. Indeed, he seemed to grow beneath her touch in a most disconcerting way.
Her cheeks might have been aflame, but she did not take her hands away. Indeed, she was curious enough to explore. Angus caught his breath when she moved her fingers. She caressed him gently through the cloth, sliding her fingertips up and down his length. He gasped and shuddered, and she could feel his muscles tightening.
“’Tis large,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but sounding breathless all the same.
“I suspect you have had a part in that.”
She plucked at the lace, for ’twas clear Angus had no intent to aid her in this task. And when his chausses were unfastened, she slipped her hands beneath the wool, caressing him gently, much as he had touched her. His erection grew and hardened until he sat up abruptly and discarded his chausses himself. He flung them across the cave then drew her into his arms once again.
“Vixen,” he muttered, then kissed her soundly before she might reply.
Jacqueline melted against him. She loved the feel of him against her, the tickle of his hair against her skin, his strength against her softness. ’Twas all new, yet wondrous. She tangled her legs with his and found herself on her back once more, the shadow of Angus leaning over her.
“How did Reynaud assault you?” he murmured. Jacqueline blinked, for she had nigh forgotten that abuse and certainly did not feel it had any link to what they did together.
“He was atop me, holding my wrists while I lay on my back.”
Angus kissed her cheek. “I apologize for reminding you of that, however inadvertently.”
“’Twas not the same.” She smiled, though she knew he could not see it. “’Twas never the same with you.”
“But you were fearful of me from the first.”
Jacqueline took a deep breath. “I feared ’twould be the same and ’twas that fear that fed my response.” She touched his jaw, feeling the tension of uncertainty in him and loving that he was so protective of her. “But you never touched me roughly as he did, Angus, and I was quick to see that I had naught to fear from you.”
Angus kissed the tip of her nose. “Nonetheless, I will not risk a sudden memory.”
He clasped her waist, then deftly rolled to his back. Jacqueline gasped then laughed, for she sat astride him. She was kneeling, her heat close to his hardness, her hands upon his belly.
“This time,” he declared in a low voice, “’twill be you who assaults me.”
“It can be done this way?”
He laughed. “It can be done many ways, my vixen.” She felt his fingertip brush her cheek even as his voice dropped lower. “But this way, the deed is the lady’s to command.”
Jacqueline’s heart warmed with this sign of his consideration. Truly, she had found a man of rare honor with whom to share this deed. “But I do not know what to do,” she admitted, laughing.
Angus cupped her buttocks and coaxed her over him, moving until the tip of his hardness nudged at her.
“Oh.” There was a twinge, enough to make her wince but no more than that, then she felt his heat ease slightly inside her. “Oh!”
“Are you pained?” He froze, anxious for her answer.
“Nay, naught but a twinge.” Jacqueline leaned down and kissed him, not wanting him to misunderstand. “’Tis fine.”
“Then we shall continue,” Angus whispered huskily. He eased her lower, letting another measure of his strength slide within her and Jacqueline felt her knees weaken at the sensation.
“Oh!”
“Oh indeed,” he echoed, letting his hands slide down her thighs. She felt a shiver run over him, and knew that such control was no so readily won. “’Tis for you to set the pace, Jacqueline.”
“But you must aid me.”
“Not now. ’Tis all at your command.”
“But, but, you will not fit within me.”
Again he chuckled. “Aye, I will. But if the deed is not pleasurable, ’tis in your power to halt.”
Trusting his conviction, Jacqueline took him within her in small measures that left him gasping beneath her. He seemed to grow tighter and quieter each time she moved, his muscles as hard as the rock beneath her knees. To her amazement, ’twas not long before she sat fully on him.
“And?” Angus’ question was as taut as the rest of him.
Jacqueline laughed lightly, her eyes widening at the sensation that resulted. “I am full of you, nigh filled to bursting.”
“How does that feel?”
“Well enough, but less remarkable than I had expected,” she admitted honestly.
“Indeed?” There was that hint of laughter again, making her long to hear him laugh loud and lustily.
“Indeed,” she agreed. “I would not have you offended, but there should be truth between us in this moment.”
“Aye, that is a good impulse. Tell me more.”
“’Tis not an unpleasant sensation, but hardly worth much sacrifice.” Jacqueline frowned. “People risk so much with such relations, I had expected the deed to be at least as pleasurable as what we did before.”
“But we have only just begun, my Jacqueline,” Angus said silkily. He fitted his hands about her waist and lifted her until he was only just within her, then lowered her again.
“Oh!” Jacqueline whispered, the move awakening a new army of tingles within her.
“Oh,” Angus mimicked, then repeated his move. Jacqueline rocked her hips, as she became accustomed to him and he inhaled sharply though he did not halt.
Feeling in command of this delight and bold with her power, Jacqueline moved of her own volition. The tender part of her that he had already pleasured was rubbed in a most intriguing way when she arched her back. She leaned forward to kiss him and ’twas yet better.
He caught her around the waist, then moved within her with increasing ardor. She could not have said who led their dance for they found a rhythm together. She felt that heat gathering beneath her flesh once more and wanted all that he might surrender to her. And then Jacqueline knew she would want more. ’Twas not a deed any woman could do only once.
She did not want to do this only to know what ’twas like. She wanted this because she wanted this man. And she did not desire him only once. Nay, Jacqueline wanted to meet Angus MacGillivray abed like this every night of her life and perhaps on more than a few afternoons.
She wanted to hold his secrets and be there when he faced his fears, she wanted to see justice wrought for him and his family. She wanted to ride by his side for all her life, she wanted to see that half smile when first she awakened in the morning, she wanted to bear him sons.
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