The Recruit

by Monica McCarty

  One night.

  His finger traced her cheek and dipped down to behind her ear. “Your veil,” he said huskily. “Can you put it back on by yourself?”

  She nodded. “Why?”

  She had her answer when he started to pull the pins from her hair. A moment later her veil was tossed to the side.

  He drew in his breath.

  Her gaze shot to his, and what she saw there made her turn away, shying from the unexpected pleasure. Her hair had been her one vanity. But it had been hidden for so long, she’d wondered if a man would still find it pretty. If his expression was any indication, the answer was yes.

  She could feel the weight of his scrutiny as his fingers ran through the long waves.

  “It’s a sin to cover something so beautiful.” His voice was almost reverent. After a moment, he cupped her chin, turning her gaze to his. “What else are you hiding, my Mary?”

  She shook her head wordlessly, something in his voice causing her to panic. This was a man who could uncover secrets. Who could dig up emotions buried a long time ago. My Mary … “Nothing,” she managed in a gasp.

  He didn’t believe her. “We shall see.”

  And then he kissed her, turning that gasp of panic into one of pleasure.

  She could taste his intent. He kissed her like a man with a purpose. This wasn’t a kiss meant to seduce but one that was already certain of the end. Bold. Fierce. Carnal. He was taking what he wanted, yet giving her everything in return. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he was never going to let her go.

  Her body responded as if there had never been an interruption. All the passion he’d roused in her returned full force. She slid her hand around his neck, bringing more of his weight down on top of her.

  His erection was pressing against her thigh, but he shifted, nudging it closer to the place she wanted it.

  She must have cried out. He growled in response, his movements quickening, becoming more frenzied. He slid his hand along the curve of her hips and she arched against him like a cat.

  Who was this woman? What had he done to her?

  His kiss slid from her mouth, down her chin and to her throat. “You’re so sweet.” His voice sounded tight, strained.

  She could hear the sounds of her breathing in her ears but was too overcome to care. She couldn’t seem to do anything but writhe in restless anticipation as his mouth burned a trail down her throat and his hands singed an equally hot path over her body. He knew exactly where to touch her. His hands were on her hips, her stomach, the curve at her waist, and then—finally then—her breast.

  He cupped her, squeezed, molded her into his hand, and she moaned at the absolute wonder of it.

  His mouth had descended as far down her bodice as the modest gown would allow him to go. “God, I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “I want you naked.” A memory of his bare chest flashed before her eyes. She shuddered at the thought of all that hot, tanned skin against her. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I want to see these pretty nipples before I take them in my mouth.”

  He placed his mouth right on the spot he was talking about. She gasped, feeling the damp heat right through the silk and linen.

  She arched into his mouth, and she heard him swear again as he sucked. Sucked hard. Sucked so she could feel the sweet tightness around her nipple and shimmery needles of pleasure shot to her toes. She started to moan, soft, urgent sounds that she’d never made before.

  He made a harsh sound and pulled away. “God, you’re killing me,” he said, before returning his mouth to hers for a fierce kiss.

  He was moving faster now, with none of the smooth finesse he’d exhibited before. His movements were harsh and stiff, almost clumsy. He was showing none of the detached control she’d witnessed in the barn. Could she really be doing this to him?

  He loosened his tunic, fumbled with the ties of his breeches and braies, and worked the edge of her gown up over her hips.

  Breaking the kiss, he leaned over her. A slump of dark hair hung forward across his brow, and she fought the urge to tuck it back. His eyes were dark and burning with the same emotion she’d seen in them when he’d taken himself to release with his hand: lust.

  For me.

  “I need to be inside you.”

  His hand dipped between her legs, and she gasped. The gentle brush of his finger against the sensitive, quivering flesh sent a thousand shivers racing up her spine.

  “You’re so hot,” he groaned.

  Whatever embarrassment she might have felt at his words was erased when his finger slipped inside her. She jolted at the exquisite stroke.

  “I knew you’d be like this.” He groaned again. “You’re made for this, little one.”

  She didn’t know what he was talking about, but the finger stroking inside her felt too good for her to care. Something strange was happening. The needs of her body had taken over. The quivering intensified to a pulse, and then to an insistent throbbing. She felt as if she were climbing, reaching for something she couldn’t see.

  “That’s it,” he said encouragingly. “Let it come, love. Let it come.”

  The soft endearment broke through the haze of her pleasure, but she pushed it away. It doesn’t mean anything.

  But she hadn’t expected this bold, wicked warrior to be so … tender.

  His finger was plunging in and out. Her hips rose on their own to meet the heel of his hand. He pressed against her, murmuring words in her ear. “That’s it, love. Fly.”

  Looking into his eyes, she froze, startled by the intensity of sensation that gripped her. Their eyes held for one long heartbeat before they closed as the sensation exploded inside her in a hot, pulsing spasm. She was flying. Soaring in a dreamy world of sensation. The pleasure was indescribable. So much more than she’d imagined. But she couldn’t hold on to it. All too soon it was fading away.

  She opened her eyes, seeing him leaning over her. His gaze was hot with an emotion she couldn’t read.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said fiercely.

  She smothered the flare of feminine pleasure. It didn’t mean anything. He probably said that to all the women.

  Except she couldn’t recall him saying it to the woman in the barn.

  He moved over her, leveraging his chest over hers. She fought the urge to glance down, filled with very unmaidenly curiosity.

  She sucked in her breath, feeling the blunt tip of his manhood probing her entrance.

  She steeled herself for the pain.

  “Relax,” he said. “I told you I’d be gentle.”

  She blushed. How could that be gentle? Long sword indeed. A steel long sword!

  But after a moment she believed him. He rubbed the tip of himself against her until she started to relax.

  The quivering started again. Her breath began to quicken. She watched his face in the semidarkness. The aggressive masculine jaw clenched and determined, the sensual mouth tight, the sharp blue eyes piercing, the strain that tensed his muscles.

  It was killing him to go slow. But he was doing it for her.

  The gentleness confused her. It wasn’t what she expected from him. It wasn’t what she wanted from him. “Now,” she told him.

  If he was surprised by her demand, his body was too eager to argue with her. Slowly, he started to push inside, using the dampness of her body to ease his way.

  Her eyes widened as her body stretched to accommodate him.

  She thought it would hurt. It should hurt. But instead she realized it felt … amazing. He filled her in a way she’d never been filled before. Every incredible inch was a possession. A claiming. A fist of heat pulsing inside her.

  Oh God, yes. This was it! This was what she’d been waiting for. Mary couldn’t wait to feel him move, to feel him thrusting inside her. All that lust. All that raw passion she’d witnessed in the barn.

  Except he wasn’t doing that at all. He was holding perfectly still—achingly still—staring at her with a look on his f
ace that made her heart tug. It was a strange mix of surprise and confusion. And he seemed to be looking deep into her eyes for the answer.

  Something sharp and poignant passed between them. Something beautiful and impossible. Something that had no place in a fantasy of sin.

  Instinctively she wanted to turn from it. But she couldn’t seem to break the connection.

  Finally, when she thought she couldn’t bear the intensity another moment, he started to move. The first thrust sent a shock wave of sensation exploding up her spine. She gasped at the wonder of it. At the all-encompassing pleasure that swept over her with each exquisite stroke.

  He groaned, closing his eyes and tipping back his head as if the pleasure had overwhelmed him as well. “God, you feel good,” he said with another groan, as his hips lifted and sank again, the slow, circular motion reverberating through her.

  She gripped him harder, fighting to hold on as wave after powerful wave of sensation threatened to drag her under. She wanted to close her eyes and give over to the pleasure.

  But he wouldn’t let her. His gaze held hers in its intimate embrace, not letting go. The intensity of it stole her breath. She felt her heart squeezing.

  No! This wasn’t what she wanted. This was all wrong. She didn’t want emotion. Her chest wasn’t supposed to squeeze. It was too intimate. Too gentle. Too sweet.

  He was supposed to be a fantasy, but this felt too real, tapping emotions she’d buried long ago.

  If only he would stop looking at her.

  She had to do something. Focus on something else. She almost wished she was on her hands and knees like the woman in the barn. She wasn’t that bold, but she had another thought and blurted, “Will you take off your tunic?”

  Kenneth felt as if he’d entered another world. A world that was entirely new. A world where all his previous experience counted for shite. He was sailing blind and without an anchor. It was unsettling and exhilarating at the same time.

  He liked swiving. Liked it a lot. Hell, even when it wasn’t great it was still damned good. And when it was good there was nothing like it.

  But this …

  This was unlike anything he’d experienced. Something about it resonated. Hell, everything about it resonated. From the moment he’d entered her it had felt different. The pleasure had been acute. The pure mind-numbing bliss of sinking into all that warm, soft flesh and feeling her body grip him like a glove. A very wet, very tight, very hot glove. He’d felt a powerful bolt of sensation right to the tip of his cock.

  That he understood. What he didn’t understand was the rest. The fierce, primal wave of possessiveness that made every instinct in his body scream “mine,” followed by the strange feeling of rightness, and an equally fierce wave of protectiveness.

  He’d promised her he’d be gentle, and he wanted to be. He wanted to make it good for her.

  He’d watched her face as he entered her, saw her cheeks flush, heard the sharp intake of breath as he forged deeper and deeper, filling her.

  And when it had happened, when they’d been joined completely …

  A fierce wave of emotion had reached up and grabbed him by the throat. He’d never felt lust like that before. Lust that settled in his chest and squeezed.

  He should be going fast. The king was waiting for him. But it felt so damned good, he didn’t want it to end. Buried deep inside her, the tight, wet fist of her body gripping him, he thought he just might be content to stay here forever.

  He took it slow. Dragging out every last inch of his thrusts, sliding nearly all the way out before sinking into her again. But still it wasn’t deep enough. Wasn’t close enough.

  It was bloody strange. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. Hell, he couldn’t ever recall holding a woman’s gaze for so long. But with her hair tumbling around her face, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen, her eyes hazy with passion, he couldn’t look away. The lass had come alive in his arms.

  Christ, he realized. She’s beautiful.

  He seemed to stop breathing. Something hot and tight was lodged in his chest. It made him want to hold her gaze. To cup her cheek in his hand and bring his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

  The oddity of his reaction made her request all the more jarring.

  He stilled. “What?”

  She dropped her gaze from his, biting her lip. A blush rose to her cheeks. “I-I …” She stammered, peeking up at him from under her lashes. “I was just remembering, and thought it would be nice …”

  She couldn’t seem to finish.

  “You thought it would be nice if I took off my tunic?” he said blandly.

  She nodded, clearly mortified. “Aye.”

  There was no reason he should be bothered by the request. Perhaps he should even be pleased. Obviously, she’d admired what she’d seen in the barn and wanted to see it again. A woman admiring his body was nothing new. Hell, he wanted her admiration. But something about the request made him feel like a stallion at market, and given his oddly tender feelings of a few moments ago, it stung.

  Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He sounded like a woman, overly sensitive and overanalyzing every little nuance. Why should he care if she wanted to admire his body? Hadn’t he told her the same thing? He wanted to see her naked, and if it wasn’t for the difficulty in redressing her, he would have torn that bloody gown right off her shoulders.

  A tunic, however, was easy enough to put back on. And it would be nice to have her hands on him.

  With that thought in his mind, he grabbed the hem off his tunic that was already bunched at his waist and jerked it over his head, tossing it to the side. “As you wish, my lady,” he said with a cocky grin.

  She gasped, her eyes wide with concern. “You’re hurt!” She reached out as if to touch him, but then pulled back as if she were afraid to cause him pain.

  He glanced down at the mottled skin, having forgotten about his injury. The pleasure she was giving him was far better medicine than the vile-tasting brew his sister had made him consume, or the long drink of whisky he’d had a few moments ago.

  “It’s nothing.”

  She started to argue, but he forced her mind back on what was happening with a little push.

  She startled, unthinkingly grabbing for him. Which was exactly what he’d intended. The warm softness of her palms on his skin sent a fresh wave of heat pulsing to his groin. Very nice.

  He thrust again. Harder this time. And deeper.

  She gripped him harder, her tiny fingers digging into the muscles flaring off the back of his arms.

  Aye, that was good. He held himself there, strangely content to just savor the moment of connection. “Any more requests, my lady?” he said huskily, teasingly.

  She lifted her gaze from his chest long enough to look into his eyes. He’d meant it as a joke, but she looked oddly serious—worried even. “Faster, please. Just make it faster.”

  He frowned. Obviously, the lady wasn’t as content as he was to make it last. He felt a flicker of temper.

  His jaw clenched, tightening his mouth. Well, never let it be said he didn’t give the ladies what they wanted.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed. Giving her a long, hot look, he added, “And hold on tight.”

  She was in for the ride of her life.

  He surged inside her, and she cried out at the possessive force of it. Her eyes shot to his. “Like that, do you?” he taunted.

  She nodded dazedly.

  A surge of satisfaction shot through his veins. Holding her gaze, he surged again. Over and over. Faster and faster. Giving her exactly what she wanted, the soft echoes of her gasps egging him on.

  He groaned as the familiar pressure started to build in his loins and gather at the back of his spine.

  Damn, it felt good.

  He could feel her heels digging into his buttocks, her hands sliding from his arms to roam wildly over his hot, slickening back. He was working hard and his body was beginning to show it. His muscles were straining,
his arms were sore from propping himself up, and his breath was coming fast from the exertion of thrusting and pounding.

  It was hot and hard, lust in its most raw and primal form. But it was also something more. Something deeper. Something that stirred him in the darkest reaches of his soul every time he looked into the fathomless blue of her eyes.

  Beautiful.

  He could feel it coming. Sensation was building to a frantic beat. His body clenched tighter in anticipation. He gritted his teeth against the urge to come, fighting for control.

  He didn’t want to do this alone.

  He had no reason to hold back. He’d made her come. He’d done his duty. Kept his side of the unspoken bargain in liaisons such as this. He’d give her pleasure and she’d give him pleasure in return.

  But nothing about this felt like a duty. Nothing about this felt like his usual liaisons. Something about this felt important, and he knew it wasn’t going to feel right unless they came together.

  He didn’t know why—hell, he didn’t even want to think about it—he just knew it was the way it was.

  But God, he wanted to come. His arse clenched against the pull of sensation as her body gripped him, milking, fighting to hang on to each hard stroke.

  He wasn’t going to have long to wait. Her breath was coming faster now. Harder and more insistent. She was undulating beneath him, arching her back and lifting her hips to meet the frantic rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, her head rolling back—

  “Look at me,” he ordered, his voice tight with the pressure.

  She didn’t want to look. He could see her reluctance as her eyes opened and moved slowly to his. A bolt of shock shot down his spine. Something passed between them. Something hot and intense. Something that sent them both over the edge.

  She gasped.

  His entire body clenched.

  She let out a sharp cry of pleasure that tore through the last strands of his restraint. The pressure he’d been holding in check exploded in a blinding blaze of passion. He couldn’t have pulled out if he’d wanted. He drove hard and deep, as his body broke apart. As the most powerful release he’d ever found shuddered over him in wave after powerful wave.