That was why she’d been so tormented at finding him in the storage hut, why she’d been so distraught at knowing he’d soon be put to death, why she’d demanded that Dylan help free him, even if doing so put all their lives at risk. Had he been any other Norman, she doubted she’d have reacted the way she had. She’d been frantic to protect him.
What was she to do?
“Alana.”
On hearing her name, she blinked. Paxton, she noticed, was studying her intently. “Yes?”
“Has something unsettled you?” he questioned.
More than you’ll ever know!
She wanted to shout those words but held them inside. The revelation that she loved him was far too new to her, and she remained cautious, for she felt at her most vulnerable. “W-why do you ask?”
“Your expression—dumbfounded is how I’d describe it. What has astonished you so?”
Alana feared the truth was written in her eyes. To avoid his seeing it, she once more gazed at the water. “Nothing has astonished me,” she stated. “You’re imagining things.”
She needed to be away from him so that she could calm her thoughts and gather her wits about her. Splashing water over his chest, rinsing away the soap, she dropped the sponge into the tub and started to rise, but Paxton caught her hand.
“You forgot my legs,” he said, thrusting one muscular limb into the air before her.
Her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, Alana retrieved the sponge and gathered the soap. Couldn’t the blasted rogue bathe himself?
“I’ve come to a decision about your punishment,” he said.
Alana looked up from the task of scrubbing his leg. He’d been so matter-of-fact in his announcement she assumed he was no longer interested in learning why she appeared unsettled. She was relieved yet guarded.
“And?” she inquired when he did not expound further.
“Obedience is something a husband should expect from his wife, correct?”
“I suppose so.”
Paxton chuckled. “Suppose so? Alana, as I recall you vowed to obey me the day we were married.”
“I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter.”
“On that I’ll agree. But you swore to obey me and naught can change that.”
“And what does my obeying you have to do with my punishment?”
“Henceforth, whatever my request, whatever my demand, you will honor it, without question, without objection, without hesitation. Not one word will pass from your lips, except that of acquiescence. You will be submissive to me, my wife, in all things.”
Alana stared at him, confused. Had he expected her to be a complete shrew, defying him at every turn? Not even with Gilbert did she attempt to usurp his authority over her… not until his treachery was made apparent. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“The significance of my meaning will soon become clear. Right now you may wash my other leg.”
Its length rose from the water as he plunged the other one into the tub. Methodically, Alana took to scrubbing the leg he’d offered. When she was done, she tossed the sponge into the water and stood.
“You are bathed, milord husband. Is there something else you need?”
Paxton glanced at the water as though viewing what was hidden below its surface. “You missed a few spots.”
“I think you are capable of attending to those yourself.”
“I am quite capable, but I want you to attend to them for me.”
“But—”
“Obedience, Wife, in all things that I request. Remember?”
Clenching her jaw, Alana drew a deep breath. Once again, she lowered herself to her knees. Latching on to the sponge that was bobbing around the tub, she soaped the thing.
Without hesitation.
The words came to her as she was pondering how she should go about this.
“Would you like for me to stand?” Paxton inquired.
“Nay!” she blurted and plunged the sponge beneath the water.
She blindly bathed his lower ribs, the side of the hip facing her. As she reached around to run the sponge over the other hip, her hand made contact with his manhood, which to Alana’s dismay was erect.
Her hand popped from the water, and she jumped to her feet. “’Tis done,” she announced on a squeak, her face feeling as though it were afire.
“In a haphazard fashion, yes,” Paxton said. “For the moment, however, it will do.”
He leaned back against the tub’s rim, Alana watching him with care. Thinking he intended to say more, she waited. Save for the lapping of the water as he idly raised his knee then lowered it again in a nonchalant manner, there was silence.
“Is that all?” she inquired, praying it was.
His lazy-lidded gaze raked her from head to toe. “There is one more thing that I demand,” he said.
Alana was immediately wary. “A-and what is that?”
“Remove your clothes and join me in my bath.”
CHAPTER
17
Alana’s heart slammed once in her chest, then seemed to stop altogether. When it started again, it thumped in her ears.
“Remove your clothes and join me,” Paxton repeated.
“I’d prefer to bathe separately,” she answered after she found her voice.
“But I prefer the opposite,” he countered. “Obedience, remember?”
“And what if I choose not to comply?” she asked.
“You’ll pay the consequences.”
“Which are?”
“What rights are usually extended to a man whose wife is considered unruly?”
Alana stared at him. Surely he didn’t intend to beat her! So far nothing in his character gave the impression that he was purposely brutal. In fact, Father Jevon’s disclosure on how the whip had fallen from Paxton’s hand before the call came announcing Sir Graham and the others were safe indicated he was anything but!
Filled with bravado, Alana challenged him. “You jest.”
“Do I? Persist in defying me, and we’ll see if I’m jesting.”
Noting how Paxton continued to laze in the tub, Alana glanced at the closed door. As she tortured her lip with her teeth, she wondered just how far she could get before he pounced on her.
Not far, she decided, aware he was lithe, agile, and way too swift. Remembering also how he’d toppled Rhys as they stood face-to-face in battle, she knew that he would use whatever ploy was necessary in order to win.
Oh, why was she fretting over something as inconsequential as this? They’d been intimate before. Though she had hoped he’d allow her more time, she was aware he’d be making his demands known sooner or later. Unfortunately it was earlier than she’d wanted.
“Well, Wife?”
Sighing, Alana removed her bliaud, her chainse, her slippers and stockings. Pulling the combs from her hair, she dropped them atop the pile at her feet. She now stood in naught but her chemise. Nervous fingers caught its hem, and Alana pulled the final article of clothing over her head.
Her chemise fell from her fingertips and drifted to the floor. “Satisfied?”
Not yet, Paxton thought, his ardent gaze wandering over her exposed beauty. But soon he would be the most contented man in all Wales.
He extended his hand to her, palm upward. “Join me, sweet.”
She was hesitant at first, but directly her hand slipped into his; Paxton steadied her as she stepped over the tub’s rim.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Straddle my hips,” he responded while tugging at her hand.
“Nay.”
“Alana, don’t argue. Just do as I say.”
He captured her other hand, urging her to comply. Her foot moved through the water above his belly, then she was lowering herself to sit astride him.
For an instant, Paxton’s breath caught in his chest when they connected. Alana’s eyes closed and she swallowed with force. They were touching intimately, but not joined. As he gazed at her face, noting t
he small puckers along her brow, he wondered what thoughts were traversing her mind. The answer came to him forthwith.
“Why are you so intent on embarrassing me this way?” she asked as she viewed him.
Her words were but a miserable little moan that tugged at his heart. “I have no intention of embarrassing you. My purpose is to show you that you have no reason to be afraid of me… nor of my making love to you.”
“You certainly have an odd way of going about it.”
“I suppose you and Gilbert never—”
“Nay, we didn’t,” she snapped.
Paxton realized he shouldn’t have mentioned Gilbert. Still, by Alana’s reaction, it was made quite plain that her late husband had never thought to seduce his wife by inviting her into his bath.
Was Gilbert really such a dullard when it came to lovemaking? Was he so self-absorbed that he only sought to take and never to give in return? If so, it was another mark against the man whom he once thought of as his friend.
In light of this, Paxton was more determined than ever to put Alana’s old memories of Gilbert to rest. Her new memories would be of him, and him alone, the pleasure he gave her overriding all else, her fear gone forever.
“We’ll see if you think that the way I’m going about this is odd once we’re through, sweet.” He took up the sponge and soaped it. “Gather your hair, so I don’t get it wet.”
The ends of her long tresses already dipped below the surface of the water. Still Alana complied. With both hands, she scooped the dark mass together at the nape of her neck. Then she lifted the whole to the top of her head, where she coiled it around, planting her hands atop it to hold it there.
Paxton’s eyelids grew heavy as he viewed her thus. Her jutting breasts, each a perfect globe, taunted him. He wanted to taste each tantalizing peak, but quashed the urge—for now.
Inadvertently her hips moved against his. His loins blazed as his manhood hardened to the point of searing pain. Paxton wondered why the hell he just didn’t pluck Alana from the tub, here and now, carry her to the bed, and take her there.
Seduction… slow and easy.
It was essential for her pleasure and for his.
Taming his lust, he moved the sponge to her throat, over her shoulders, then up each winged arm, then down, in the direction of her ripe breasts.
The sponge met one sphere, and he bathed it gently. As he did the same to its twin, he viewed the first. Rivulets of suds skimmed down her wet skin, catching briefly on her nipple, then dropping into the water.
Paxton was growing more and more eager to have her. He bathed her ribs, her belly, her navel. Moving the sponge around her waist, he washed her back, then attended her hips and their roundness.
“Raise up,” he said, his hand again in front of him.
Alana lifted herself, and he delved between her thighs, stroking her.
“What are you doing?”
Her voice held a hint of breathlessness, and Paxton smiled. “Playing,” he said, tempted to release the sponge, allowing his fingers to take its place. “Do you want me to stop?”
Nay, Alana thought.
The most delicious tingles were passing through her body. Why on earth would she want them to end?
But they did.
Water sluiced over her skin as Paxton rinsed her from her neck downward. He did the same with her back. Afterward he tossed the sponge aside. Then he was pulling her to him.
Alana shivered with delight as his mouth opened over one breast. He suckled lightly, then his tongue flicked against the nipple. She felt it harden. Sensation licked to her core.
Then he was attending the other breast in the same manner, and Alana could no longer suppress the groan that had threatened several times to escape her throat.
Releasing her hair, she gripped Paxton’s shoulders. “This is madness,” she whispered as she tried to push from his hold.
“Nay. ’Tis pleasure, Alana. Relish it. Allow yourself to experience it fully, the same as you did the first time we made love.”
Memories of the glade burst around her; her hands relaxed. Alana surrendered to the wants of her body by giving herself over to Paxton.
His hand was working between them. Finding her, his fingers glided through the folds which were slick from the water and the hot moisture that had seeped from within her. He probed, one finger entering her. He withdrew it, then as his thumb rotated the bud, he entered her again.
Alana could not resist the magic his sensual play evoked. Soon she was moving, increasing her pleasure. She moaned when he removed his hand. Then she felt his other hand on her bottom. He was lifting her and positioning himself at the same time. When the crown of his manhood was at her entry, he pressed her hips down.
He was filling her, deeper and deeper. “Kiss me,” he entreated, his passion-glazed eyes connecting with hers.
Alana wanted nothing more than to taste his lips. She leaned forward. Their bellies touched; her breasts pressed into his chest. Then he caught her head, pulling her to him.
Hot and wet, his lips opened to devour hers; Alana responded eagerly to his kiss. As their tongues probed and played and teased, Paxton’s hips moved. She yielded to the rhythm he orchestrated, his hand lifting her bottom, then pushing her down. His strokes were sure, firm, and unerring, and Alana luxuriated over each new sensation as it came.
With a growl, he pulled his mouth from hers. “This is impossible,” he muttered as he set her from him.
Startled, Alana could do naught but stare at him. “Why?” she questioned at last.
“I cannot make love to you the way I want—not in this tub.”
The words came from him as he rose to step over the tub’s rim. Alana gasped when he lifted her from the water, then set her to her feet. He jerked up the toweling and dried her. Next he dried himself and threw the scrap of linen aside. Afterward he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She floated downward, sinking into the center of the mattress onto the wadmal cover. Paxton was quickly above her, settling on his knees between her outstretched thighs.
“This is far better,” he said, before his lips met hers. They lingered briefly, then sluiced to her neck to play at her pulse. He kissed each breast, nibbled on toward her waist, where his tongue probed her navel.
Alana had no idea what he was about, but he was driving her witless. Then his lips met her curls; his fingers were opening her. She jerked when she felt the flick of his tongue against her.
“What are you doing?”
“Loving you as you’ve never been loved before.”
His hot breath fanned over her, and before Alana could say yea or nay to this new assault to her senses, his lips and tongue were on her, teasing, probing, and tasting her.
At first her fingers stretched, then they curled into the bedcover as her breath was suspended in her chest. Soon she was reaching for his head and threading her fingers through the thickness of his hair, urging him closer.
Her hips writhed, and her heart threatened to burst. Flames of fire licked through her, promising to consume her. In a daze, she saw Paxton was now above her. His hot erect member slid into her.
“Pleasure me,” he said.
How could she refuse, loving him as she did?
She welcomed him into her arms, her legs encircling his narrow waist. Their bellies met, warm flesh against warm flesh. His hand burrowed beneath her hips bringing her closer.
“Whatever you desire,” she said in response, prompting his lips to hers.
He gazed deeply into her eyes. “Alana.”
Her name was a soft plea uttered before their mouths met in a sizzling kiss. Hearing it had acted as the most potent aphrodisiac of all. He moved inside her once, and Alana swore she was melting. Spasms of ecstasy pulsed through her whole being. At the same instant, she felt Paxton’s body convulse. His deep, trembling groan flowed past her lips as he climaxed with her.
Spent, they lay quietly. But it wasn’t long before Paxton rol
led to his side, taking Alana with him.
After a bit, she asked, “Did I pleasure you the way you had hoped?”
Christ yes, he thought, knowing this time was even more wondrous than the first.
Smoothing several errant strands of hair from her face and settling them over her shoulder, he smiled at her. “I’m gratified by your simply being near me. But in response to your question: Aye, you pleasured me the way I had hoped. Even more so.”
She nestled into his shoulder and yawned. “I’m glad,” she said, her eyes slowly closing.
Paxton’s hand covered Alana’s where it rested in the center of his chest. “Sleep, sweet,” he whispered, kissing her brow, then pulling the edge of the bedcover over her hips and shoulders.
Alana nodded. Soon she drifted into the realm of dreams.
As Paxton lay there, his wife snuggled against him, he examined her face.
Long lashes feathered against the delicate skin beneath her eyes. Light breaths blew between her softly parted lips, stirring the hair on his chest. Mesmerized, Paxton studied her features, discovering the little nuances of each.
Lovely didn’t fully describe her. Yet her outward appeal wasn’t what had attracted him. The fiery passion within was what had attracted him from the first.
He recalled how she’d stood up to Sir Goddard, how she had held her own even against him. Likewise, she’d taken on her own uncle, along with the rest of her kin, determined to save his wretched hide from a hellish death.
For a small slip of a creature, her courage was unsurpassed. As a warrior, Paxton admired her tenaciousness.
But was that all?
A strange sort of warmth blossomed inside him. He felt it spread through his whole being.
Nay. There was far more, he decided.
Bemused by the perplexing emotion that was now filling his heart, Paxton grew very still.
Damnation! Was it possible? Was he actually falling in love with her?
To Paxton’s delight and amazement, the answer was a definite…
Yes!
CHAPTER
18
Alana stood with Paxton at the edge of a bluff overlooking the river that lay a good hundred feet below them. On her husband’s arm, which bore a leather gauntlet, perched a hooded female falcon, eagerly awaiting its release.
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