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 t
o 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.
As she watched his strong form disappear over the embankment, she concluded that she was indeed a fool. But she was a damaged fool, her past having ruined her beyond repair, and Tristan deserved better than that. He deserved a wife who could accept him as her husband and protector and Madeline could not do that. For life had long ago taught her that reliance on others was the most foolish thing of all.
***
Infuriated and disheartened, Tristan arrived back at the manor. The scent of Madeline still lingered and he ordered a bath poured, mayhap hoping to literally wash himself of her. With a sigh, he realised it would be harder than that.
He wanted her. Had always wanted her.
Since he had noticed the beginnings of womanhood he had wished to make her his wife. Even before then, as children, he was struck by her sweetness, her laughter. Even when all in her world was joyless, she somehow managed to retain that childlike belief that all would turn out right.
But then she wasn’t that girl any more was she? And he knew, in his heart, that he was instrumental in that. His failure to protect her, to claim her as his wife, had been the biggest betrayal of all, truly destroying any hope she retained. Now she claimed she no longer wanted his protection and he was mystified. He was offering her everything she had needed, he was attempting to redeem himself, and yet she steadfastly refused to accept him.
As he soaked in the wooden tub, he noted the scratches along his arms and did not doubt he had similar marks across his back from her fingernails. Positive proof of their ardour - he knew he was not the only one who had been swept away by their love making. He had seen the reflected love in her eyes, he was sure of it. Aye, she was no longer that gentle child but he loved the woman she had turned into no less.
Tristan could not believe she was not as affected as him. And if that were true, the fact that she still refused him now meant there was no hope, for surely such an experience should have sealed his place in her heart. For too long now had he been haunted by her, by his failure of her, the memory of her, and now by the scarred soul she had become. It would be no easy feat but he resolved to put her from his mind. Madeline wanted no aid and he would do as she asked, no matter the cost to himself.
His oath to never let her go would be forgotten.
***
“Oh.” Madeline gulped at the vision before her.
Upon her return to the manor, she had checked in on her horse, knowing her quiet presence would offer some comfort but Cariad had not been herself. Knowing of Tristan’s skill with horses, she had reluctantly decided to ask for his help.
Curse Alice. She had known he would be bathing yet allowed her to search him out. For certain, it was no unusual thing to witness a man bathing, but this was different.
This was Tristan.
His head rested on the rim of the wooden tub, his eyes closed as water trailed along his throat, over his Adams apple and towards the swells of his muscular chest. His hair was slicked back off his face, affording her a clear view of his profile as the golden strands curled around his neck.
It was all the more torturous to know that just that afternoon she had been fingering those curls, stroking across his taut skin and enjoying his body in a way she never thought possible.
Rooted to the spot, she willed herself to turn but her legs would not co-operate and his eyes sprung open as he sensed another in the room. Delight flared briefly in his expression before being swiftly replaced with stony indifference, as if he had momentarily forgotten his vow to forget her.
“Madeline.” Her name caressed over her as he uttered it, sending a flutter to her toes.
“Forgive me,” She lowered her eyes, “Alice said…” she trailed off with a gulp; aware she was staring at his chest, following the drops of water as they trickled down his torso. Down to…
“Are you well? You look flushed.”
She groaned inwardly. Did he have any idea of the effect he was having on her? Her stomach flipped at the mere sight of him and desire flowed languidly through her limbs, creating an awareness of her body unlike any other. Endeavouring to resist a peek over the edge of the tub, she met his eyes and noted the slight glint. Oh, he knew.
Attempting a look of nonchalance, she strolled to the window, primarily so she had something else less distracting to look upon.
“I am quite well but Cariad appears to be ailing, would you take a look at her?”
“Pray pass me the towel.”
Madeline turned with a frown to find him stood in the tub. A squeal escaped her as his large body loomed in front of her. The water sluiced down his powerful chest and, in spite of herself, her eyes traced the ridges to the juncture of his thighs. Images of their passionate coupling flitted through her mind
“Madeline, the towel?”
Startled, and aware she was gaping, her skin burned in embarrassment as she snatched at the towel, holding it out to him at arm’s length while keeping her face averted. She waited as the water sloshed and his feet slapped onto the stone floor as he grabbed the towel from her. Glancing up she was relieved to see the towel firmly secured around his waist, though it did little to calm her racing heart.
“I will take a look at her shortly.”
He stepped towards her and she found herself backing away until her back hit the door.
“Tristan, I…thank you. ‘Twould be much appreciated.”
Her hand groped for the door handle behind her as he towered over her, no more than one pace away, his hands encircling her as they lent against the door either side of her head. What was he attempting? Mayhap he was seeking revenge, trying to torment her for refusing him. She doubted it; Tristan was not so petty as to play games with her. Trying to remember all the reasons she had refused him, she attempted to fortify herself before meeting his gaze.
As he leaned in to her, she realised he was going to kiss her and, while her body tilted up to meet him, her mind screamed, reminding her of the dangers of dependence on others. He must have noted the flash of panic as he bore down upon her because a slight frown came across his face.
Bringing a hand to her cheek, he went to stroke a finger down it before snatching it back and turning away with a curse. Her hand desperately twisted on the knob behind her and she took the opportunity to escape but as she made to leave, he turned.
“I will pay a visit to my father tomorrow. You will have to look for a new steward, my lady.�
�
She blinked in surprise. “I would not see you leave the role, you enjoy it so.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “Nay, my heart cannot bear to look upon you. I fear you shall sap any enjoyment.”
Madeline looked at him in shock at his brutally honest words. “I do not behave so deliberately. Do you not see I am releasing you from a mistaken vow?”
“‘Twas no mistake, I loved you…I love you.”
He looked at her with such sorrow, such intensity, Madeline’s heart constricted with regret. He would soon realise the folly behind his words.
“I am not that girl anymore, Tristan.”
“Nay, you are not, just as I am not the same man. But you are strong and kind, just as she was. If you would just release the demons that taunt you, you would see that you are not so changed.”
“What would you have me do? For I cannot change what time has done.”
Tristan studied her for a moment before reaching for his shirt, pulling it swiftly over his head.
“I know not but I will not stay to watch you torment yourself further.”
“But what will you do?”
“The French are amassing at Dover Castle; they will have a time defending it. My father has been asked to take the men-at-arms and aid in its defence. I will go in his stead.”
Dread filled her. The castle would be the last one between Prince Louis and his crown. It would be no straightforward battle and the castle’s custodian, Hubert de Burgh was fiercely loyal to the crown. He would not capitulate easily.
“I beg of you, do not.”
“Would you have me ignore my duty? Shall I send my aging father to fight instead?”
“Nay, but what of your duty to Woodchurch? What of your duty to…” she trailed of intending to say ‘me’ but knowing it went against everything she had just said. Knowing full well she had no right to feel as she did, her stomach churned with fear.
A Summer Siege (Medieval Romance) Page 9