by Emma Prince
He turned so swiftly that she started. His hands landed on her hips, steadying her.
“Damn it all, Elaine.” His voice was so rough that she would have mistaken his tone for anger if her gaze hadn’t met his. The rich brown depths of his eyes burned with frustrated desire.
“Dinnae test me. No’ when I’m so close to breaking.”
She drew in a breath, but she couldn’t look away from his scorching stare.
“I know why you are fighting against letting me stay,” she said. “You are afraid I’ll be hurt. But why are you fighting against this?” Carefully, she placed her hand on his chest. His heart hammered wildly against her palm.
He let out a sound that was half-groan, half-growl. “Ye ken why. I cannae risk distraction. I cannae fail.”
“But what of all I just said?” she replied. “We are better together. Stronger. Smarter. Whatever this is between us isn’t a liability, Jerome. It’s a gift.”
“What are ye saying?” he said, his voice haggard and wary.
“That I want you to accept this—that I am part of this mission now, and that we both want…”
For all her boldness a moment before, the words stuck in her throat. A hot blush rose to her face.
“What?” he said, taking a half step closer. Her hand on his chest was the only thing separating their bodies now. “This?”
He slid his fingers into the damp hair at her nape and tipped her head back. Then he brushed his lips against hers. The simple, brief contact was over too quickly, yet it still sent a bold of white-hot need through her.
“Aye,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed. She stood frozen, willing him to kiss her again, praying that he would take what she so willingly longed to give.
“And this?”
His mouth closed on hers again, but this time it was a more demanding kiss. His tongue urged her lips apart and delved into the warm recesses of her mouth.
When he pulled away again, she was panting and swaying on her feet.
“Aye.”
He began backing her toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps. She kept her eyes closed, for she was afraid she would see a struggle waging on his hard features against this. Instead, she surrendered her sense of sight, letting him guide her until the backs of her thighs bumped the bed’s high edge.
“Tell me to stop,” he ground out, his fingers sinking into the dressing robe at her waist. “Do it now, Elaine, before we cannae go back.”
“Nay, I won’t.” Slowly, she opened her eyes. But instead of finding hesitation or even doubt on his face, she found a mask of desperate longing. “I want this. I want you.”
In the depths of his dark eyes, she saw something snap. Suddenly he was kissing her, but it wasn’t the restrained brush of lips or even the controlled exploration from a moment before.
Nay, he was claiming her with every heated stroke of his tongue. Elaine’s pulse spiked even as liquid warmth began to pool low in her belly.
Abruptly, he scooped her up, but just as quickly he laid her on the bed, caging her with a muscular arm on either side of her. His mouth found hers again, his kiss commanding and hungry. His hands fumbled with the tie on her dressing robe until it loosened and he peeled it away.
Though the chamber was comfortably warm, Elaine shivered, for the chemise she’d found in the armoire was made of the thinnest imaginable linen, spun so finely as to be nigh transparent.
Jerome pulled back, his lust-drunk gaze drinking her in. “Christ,” he breathed, propping himself above her.
She took advantage of his distraction to pull his shirt from his belt. She dragged it over his head and down his steely arms, savoring the brush of her fingertips along his heated skin.
His hands found his belt buckle, and when it popped open, his plaid unfurled around them. She lifted her head, unabashedly curious to gaze upon him.
But when her eyes fell on his long, rigid manhood, a maidenly blush warmed her cheeks. Still, no amount of virginal shyness would turn her back now. She wanted this too much, wanted to join with him, take him inside her, just as she had already taken him into her heart.
A heartbeat later, all thoughts of nervousness and inhibition fled, for he lowered his head and took the neckline of her chemise between his teeth. When she heard it rip, she squeaked in surprise and grasped his shoulders to halt his destruction, but she might as well have been trying to move stone.
He snatched her hands away, shackling her wrists in each of his large hands and pinning them to the mattress. She understood why a moment later, for when his hot mouth closed on one of her bare nipples, she nigh sprang off the bed like a startled cat.
She writhed beneath his ministrations, futilely clawing at the air with her trapped hands. White-hot pleasure shot from his mouth straight to the aching place between her legs.
“Jerome, please,” she moaned, unsure what she begged for, but knowing only he could give it to her.
One big hand released her wrist to trail down the length of her. Somehow he managed to shove what remained of the chemise away, though in her passion-addled state, Elaine wasn’t sure if he ripped the rest of it away or pushed it up and over her head. Her senses were flooded with the feel of his mouth, the warm weight of his body over hers, the rasp of one callused hand on her bare skin.
Then suddenly that hand touched her between the legs, right where she so desperately ached for him. She arched against him, her knees falling apart wantonly. But she didn’t care. Thought had long fled, and there was naught left but feeling.
“I want to taste ye here,” he rasped, raising his head as he circled her womanhood with the pad of one finger. “I want to taste ye everywhere, but I cannae wait. I need to be inside ye, Elaine.”
“Now, Jerome,” she panted. “Please, now.”
He rolled fully on top of her, positioning his hips between her legs. But just when she felt his cock nudge her opening, he stilled.
“Are ye sure?”
Somehow through the haze of lust, clarity struck her like a rung bell. “I know what I want—you, Jerome. Only you. Now.”
A storm of emotion roiled behind his eyes as he gazed down at her. Slowly, he rocked his hips forward, pushing into her. At first it was only mildly uncomfortable. He was big, though, and as he moved deeper, the dull ache turned into a sharp burn. When she gasped, he froze.
His hand slipped between them and brushed that point of pleasure above her opening. The contact sent a frisson of the old, wonderful heat through her.
“That’s it,” he murmured through clenched teeth as he stroked her.
Her knees loosened around his hips and again she was arching in pleasure even as he began to inch forward once more.
When he was buried to the hilt, he froze again, except for the slow circle of his thumb against that perfect spot between her legs. His short, sharp breaths rasped against her ear, and she realized distantly that he was barely clutching the last shreds of his control. For her.
Some other time, she longed to see Jerome let go, to surrender to the consuming sensations just as she was. But for now, it took all her concentration just to breathe, to bear the aching fullness inside her.
He withdrew slightly, and she suddenly felt empty where she’d been painfully stretched a moment before. When he rocked back into her, the pain began to ebb, to be replaced with hot need. She felt the tension in her body drain away as new waves of pleasure washed her.
With each of his strokes, something built within her, carrying her higher and higher on a rising tide of sensation. Instinctually, she arched up, willing him to take her more completely, to drive her higher still.
Beneath her hands, his shoulder muscles bunched and he muttered a groan against her ear. His thrusts lost their measured pace—which sent her careening over an invisible edge and into pure ecstasy.
The force of her pleasure had her crying out and writhing beneath him. A heartbeat later, even as she rode the wave of sensation, he shuddered and called her name, driving hard a
nd holding himself deep as he, too, found release.
He slumped over her, their panting breaths filling the quiet chamber.
“God, Elaine.” He brushed a few strands of damp hair from her face, his eyes soft in the low light. She gazed up at him, unable to speak or move. She’d known she and Jerome shared a powerful connection, but this had been unlike anything she was prepared for.
As he eased onto the bed beside her, he pulled her against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.
“We are bound together in this now,” she murmured, unsure if she meant the mission to save the Bruce from the plot against him, their still-unspoken feelings for each other, or both.
“Aye,” Jerome replied, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “For better or worse.”
She let his words sink in. Some part of him still feared the risks in letting her remain by his side, then—and mayhap the risks to his heart of giving in to his desire.
Elaine could relate. Danger lurked around every corner, but what she feared most were the unknowns that lay between her and Jerome. She hadn’t let herself contemplate what would become of them if they made it through this unscathed—and she went back home to Trellham.
As exhaustion nipped at the edges of her consciousness, his words echoed in her ears. For better or worse. It sounded to her drowsy, tangled mind like the vows of marriage.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jerome woke to something softly brushing his ribs. He grunted and swatted at it, unwilling to drag himself from warm sleep.
But instead of halting the ticklish contact, his swat elicited a giggle.
His eyes shot open as the events of the previous eve rushed back. Elaine.
He found her curled up next to him, her fingers lazily tracing the muscles on his side. Her hair was a love-tussled mane of burnished copper, her creamy skin flushed a bonny pink. Her bright blue eyes were earnest and merry, her lips curving with pleasure as he caught her hand to cease her exploration.
“Morning,” he rumbled, dropping a kiss onto those rosy lips. He was rewarded with an even deeper blush.
Damn it all, he was a fool—for her. Things had gone much further than he’d meant last night. He’d come into their chamber with the intention of telling her he was sending her back to Scotland, and instead they’d ended up making love. He would never regret it, but hell if it didn’t make everything more complicated.
Still, he’d meant what he said and he would not go back on it. They were in this together, now. Elaine was right, too. They had accomplished far more together than he could have alone. And of course there was no bloody way in hell he was going to let her go after what they’d shared last night. Which meant some tough decisions lay ahead.
“We need to talk,” he said gently, releasing her hand.
The teasing glow from her eyes faded and her smile faltered. “About…last night?”
Shite. Without meaning to, he’d made her doubt herself. But of course she was innocent—or had been—and though he’d taken every care with her physically, he’d been too spare with his words.
“Last night was incredible,” he said. “I’ve never kenned a woman like ye, Elaine.”
That pretty blush was back. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“With the right one, it can be, so they say—and after last night, I am inclined to believe them.”
Her eyes warmed at that, but there was still much left unspoken between them. Jerome had been so set against giving in to his feelings for Elaine that he hadn’t considered what would happen if he did.
In fact, naught was as he thought it would be. Instead of threatening to ruin his mission, Elaine’s presence was a boon. They were closer than ever to unraveling this scheme against the Bruce. But what could come of their deepening attachment? And what would it mean to care for—love—another after so many years alone?
He shook his head to clear it. Whatever de Soules and Balliol were up to still had to remain their focus.
“What I meant was, we need to discuss what comes next. I willnae send ye away, but I damn well need to ensure yer safety however we proceed.”
Her russet brows arched. “I’ve actually come up with a plan.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. While you slept.”
Jerome would have cursed himself for his laziness if he weren’t so occupied with admiring Elaine’s ingenuity. “Tell me.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and his gaze lingered there despite himself.
“You aren’t going to like it,” she said with a frown.
He propped himself on one elbow and waited, watching her.
“It would mean getting Kieran involved,” she began. “And abandoning your mission to deliver the King’s declaration to the Pope.”
Jerome jerked upright. “What?”
“Hear me out,” she said, clutching the coverlet to her chest to keep it from being yanked away by his abrupt movement. “I believe he can be trusted. And you said yourself that it was only a matter of time before he pieced together the truth.”
“And what of me forsaking my mission?”
“I’m sure the Bruce would gladly forgive you if it meant thwarting his overthrow.”
Jerome grudgingly eased back onto his elbow, eyeing her. “Go on.”
“We cannot let de Soules continue on to Avignon, for who knows what other scheming he might do. But without hard proof against him, nor can we confront him yet—if we did, we’d risk his cohorts catching wind and scattering, and then the Bruce would never know who—or how many—are in on this Balliol plot.”
Jerome urged her to continue with a curt nod.
“Therefore we must keep him here in Paris, but we cannot let suspicion—either for him or for what he schemes—to spread. He must be forced to remain at court for some innocuous reason like falling ill. I believe Lady Vivienne can help with that.”
“Then where does Kieran come in?”
She worried her lower lip for another moment before going on. “You will give him the Bruce’s declaration and he will continue on to Avignon. We’ll tell him what we’ve learned so far, for I doubt he would accept such a change in plans without good reason, but for the rest—including King Philip—I think it would be best to keep our motivations secret.”
“And us? Where will we be?”
Elaine drew in a deep breath. “We will go to Balliol’s estate and learn whatever we can of his plot. It is dangerous, to be sure, but we can’t return to Scone with only a hunch of what Balliol and his supporters are about. De Soules, de Brechin, and whoever I heard him speaking with have infiltrated the Bruce’s court all the way to its inner layer. We must learn more of what they plan, and when, if we are to protect the Bruce.”
Jerome raked a hand through his hair. Elaine was right—he didn’t like it, but they needed to gather more information before sounding the alarm. Continuing on to Avignon would only draw them farther away from Scotland—and Balliol. And they couldn’t keep up the ruse with de Soules forever, especially now that they knew he was only a middle-man between Balliol’s supporters in the Bruce’s court and the would-be usurper himself.
“What will we tell King Philip? And Balliol, for that matter.” Even as he asked the question, he knew he would acquiesce to Elaine’s plan. It was bold, and risky, but damn it all if it wasn’t brilliant as well.
Her lips twitched with mirth. “Tell King Philip that we are having another lovers’ quarrel and you’ve decided once and for all to see me returned to Scotland. It will be enough to explain why we’ll leave his court riding north rather than south. Or better yet, tell him that you’ve decided to make an honest woman of me and need to get me back to Scotland to secure my father’s permission before we wed.”
Though she smiled, he sensed a question in her eyes. Without thinking, he spoke from the heart.
“The truth is always better than a lie. I’ll tell him I’m desperate to keep ye as my own, then. And Balliol?”
She blinked, s
truck speechless for a moment. “I…yes, Balliol. This will be the most dangerous of all, but I believe we can sell him on it. We’ll pretend to be supporters, part of de Soules and the others’ scheme. He might just let something slip if he thinks we are sympathetic to his cause.”
Damn, if Elaine were a man, Jerome had no doubt she’d be leading armies with a mind that strategic and daring. “Aye,” he said slowly, working through each part of the plan. “That just might work.”
Elaine opened her mouth to respond, but a soft knock on the chamber door interrupted her. She squeaked in surprise and yanked the coverlet all the way to her chin to hide her nakedness beneath, despite the fact that the door was still securely closed and bolted.
Jerome rose and padded toward the door, snatching up his plaid as he went. Elaine scrambled from the bed and slipped into the dressing robe she’d worn last night before diving under the covers once more. He looped his plaid around his waist as he lifted the bolt and eased the door open a crack.
Lady Vivienne stood on the other side. She remained perfectly composed despite Jerome’s state of dishabille, her features trained into polite blankness.
“I brought Lady Elaine a few gowns I believe will fit,” she said, holding up a folded stack of brightly colored silks and brocades. “The one she arrived in is still being cleaned.”
Jerome opened the door enough to lift the dresses from her hold, but the lady-in-waiting’s perceptive blue gaze slid past him into the chamber.
“I trust you found everything suited to your needs last eve,” she said, a little too knowingly for Jerome’s liking. He glanced over his shoulder to find Elaine blushing to the roots of her russet hair in their tousled bed. He was about to close the door with a curt dismissal when Elaine called out.
“Jerome, wait.” She fixed him with a searching look. “Mayhap…mayhap now is the time to speak with Lady Vivienne.”
He would have preferred more time to chew on their plan, but time was one of many luxuries they no longer had if they meant to stop Balliol. Jerome opened the door wider and ushered Lady Vivienne inside. She blinked in confusion but stepped in, glancing between Jerome and Elaine.