by Sara Bennett
A faint chill breeze stirred her silken cloak, sending several gossamer threads across her face. As Lily lifted a hand to smooth them back, she became aware of Radulf once more. He had removed his hauberk and his tunic, and a breath of air flattened his sweat-dampened shirt against the hard, curving muscles of his broad chest, while his tightly cut breeches clung to his lean hips and thick, strong legs.
He was standing by one of the resting groups of men, but as Lily watched through her lashes he moved on, pausing here and there for a word, leaning down to listen with a frown to a complaint or with a smile to a joke. She had known his men were in awe of him, but now she saw that, more importantly, they loved him. Each and every soldier he spoke to lifted his chin higher and made his back straighter.
They would fight to the death for him. Gudren had been right: Radulf was loved just as much as he was feared.
Lily’s head cleared abruptly when Radulf glanced up, catching her watching him. He held her briefly but fiercely with the dark spear of his gaze, before continuing among his men as if nothing had happened.
But something had happened.
Lily held her breath, and released it very slowly. Her heart began to pound. Radulf might pretend he was randomly seeking out this man and then that one, but each and every step brought him nearer to Lily. Her heart told her it was she who was his true objective.
Why had she suddenly drawn his attention? He had barely noticed her except to order the guard on her tightened. Now, as he circled her, weaving among his men, stealthily, closer and closer, she thought she knew how a hunted animal might feel. Stalked, cornered…devoured.
A shudder ran through her as another eddy fanned her skin. The long gleaming strands of her hair stirred and she reached up with trembling fingers to straighten them, gather them, and begin to plait…
He was behind her. She knew it even before Jervois rose to his feet. Tiny prickles of awareness lifted the flesh on the back of her neck. His hand closed on hers, stilling her movements. “No,” he said softly, and in two steps was standing before her.
Instantly her dark lashes swept down to veil her eyes, afraid he would read the emotions he stirred in her. Her heart was drumming so fast she thought he must hear it, as she remembered what they had done last night in Radulf’s bed.
He stood before her, a dark giant against the threatening sky. Radulf, warrior of legend, whose name would be forever remembered. But it was not that Radulf Lily yearned for. She wanted the Radulf who had held her tenderly in his arms, lavishing his body upon hers until she no longer belonged to herself, only to him.
“My lord?” Jervois was looking from one to the other, uncertain what was required of him.
“Go and change the watches,” Radulf said quietly.
His captain went without argument.
Lily blinked, trying to collect her wandering wits. He was so close. She could smell the clean, masculine scent of him. She could see the hard satin and the dark silk of his chest where the shirt gaped at his throat. Her eyes were drawn inexorably down, over his flat stomach, to the ties at the waist of his breeches, and finally to linger on the bulge between his thighs. His manhood appeared to grow under her attention, and in direct response Lily’s breasts swelled, the nipples tightening, until they were outlined clearly against the wool cloth of her gown.
Shocked by her body’s betrayal, Lily glanced swiftly up at Radulf, color staining her cheeks, praying he hadn’t noticed.
He had.
His dark gaze was fixed on her jutting nipples, and when he lifted his eyes to hers, she was scorched by the smoldering fires in their depths.
She did not know that the sight of her combing her hair, the unbound glory of it, had heated his blood beyond bearing.
He had found himself drawn to her as a swimmer caught in a tidal pull tries for the shore. Struggle though he might, his eyes kept returning to Lily as she combed that wondrous hair, the sweet curve of her neck and cheek, the swell of her breast. His groin throbbed and burned. He wanted to run his hands through that silver wave, press his mouth to it, hold it fast as he thrust his body into hers.
Two days, maybe three, and Lily would be at Rennoc with her father. The future beyond that was uncertain. He had so little time to be with her. She was the moon to his ocean, drawing him with a subtle yet irresistible pull.
He knew he had lost his struggle when he had stood up earlier, telling himself he must see to his men.
Now Radulf had lost even the will to pretend.
“Come!” He held out his hand.
Lily blinked. “My lord?”
But Radulf couldn’t wait for explanations. He grabbed her hand and jerked her to her feet, spilling the cup of water. Lily cried out softly, stumbling after him. “My lord,” she gasped. “There is no need—My lord!”
His men scuttled out of his way, openmouthed.
They think he means to kill me, thought Lily in fright, and perhaps he does. Radulf kept walking, pulling her behind him. Across the slippery stones in the shallow stream, between the moss-clothed trees, until the twisted branches above them filtered the sunlight into a swirl of green.
“Radulf!” Lily gasped, pulling her gown free from yet another bush of thorns. Her shoes were thin, and stones and twigs dug through the soft leather, bruising the soles of her feet. Her hair, which she had spent so much time tidying, was snarled again, blinding her.
Radulf spun her around and pulled her hard against him, his mouth coming down on hers with barely controlled savagery. His hands clasped her buttocks, pressing her against him, and leaving her in no doubt as to his urgent need.
Lily gasped, and then softened against him as the reason for his roughness suddenly became very clear to her. He was not angry; he wanted her! Wanted her with a desperate, unstoppable urgency.
Just as she wanted him.
Her response startled him. It was as if he expected her to struggle, to cry out for help, to be afraid. But Lily wound her arms about his neck and clung instead, her mouth opening to his, her tongue as wild to taste him as he was her.
Radulf groaned and caught her about the waist, dropping them both down onto their knees in the soft, thick carpet of leaves. Above them the linnet sang again, and the beeches rustled softly in the cool breeze.
Their mouths parted and for a moment they remained motionless, breathing quickly. As if, thought Radulf, they were at prayer. The ridiculousness of the situation struck him forcibly. He almost laughed. What must his men think of the terrible Radulf now, dragging this girl into the woods because he could not control his lust for her?
He was making a fool of himself, just like his father.
The thought turned him so cold he nearly pulled back. And then Lily put her hands, light as butterflies, upon his shoulders, and leaned against him, her soft mouth lifted invitingly to his. Desire roared through him again, and with a groan he bent to kiss her. She pressed still closer, her breasts soft through his shirt, her nipples still hard.
Radulf lifted his hand to cup one firm mound and felt her tremble, her gasp softly erotic against his lips. If he didn’t get inside her soon he would burst. He sprawled onto the ground, uncaring of the damp soil and damper leaves, and his back came to rest against the trunk of a tree.
He could take her now, quick and hard. The thought was tempting, very tempting, but he wanted her to enjoy the act as much as he. And he wanted to make it last.
Grasping Lily’s waist, he pulled her down onto his lap so that her legs straddled his thighs. Slowly, purposefully, his warm, strong hands slid under the hem of her chemise, gliding over satin skin, following the curves and hollows of her body.
Lily sighed in bliss and reached for him. Radulf grasped her hips and held her still. “No,” he said. “You are impatient, lady. You will have your turn.”
Radulf’s hands kneaded and stroked and caressed until Lily gasped and swayed, beyond thought. And then his fingers slid into the curls between her thighs, dipping and sliding in the moisture there.
/>
It was too much. Lily swayed closer, her lips parted. He was watching her, dark eyes gleaming through his lashes, his face tense with the battle to control his desire.
Her mouth was his undoing.
Lily reached up and pressed her lips to his, and felt him shudder. The kiss deepened at the same moment as Radulf’s finger thrust itself further into her heat. Lily gasped and trembled like a shot bird, dizzy with the sensations he was drawing from her. His finger stroked boldly, mimicking his tongue in her mouth.
Lily peaked with a cry, shuddering and clutching at his chest. He waited while she calmed, soothing her with gentle caresses over her back and shoulders. Then he lifted the gown and chemise from her, leaning forward to kiss her breasts, his tongue lathing the sensitive nipples. Lily moaned, her fingers clutching his head to bind him closer.
Gently, but firmly, he pulled away. Dazed gray eyes met heated dark ones. Radulf smiled. “Now it’s your turn,” he murmured.
Delicate color flooded her face as she grasped his meaning. For a moment Vorgen, and all the bitterness and doubt he had heaped upon her, swam through her mind. Her touch was poison, vile…And yet she wanted dearly to touch him.
Slowly, tentatively, Lily ran her hands up under Radulf’s shirt, raising it to his shoulders. The hard muscles of his chest rippled under brown skin. She leaned forward to press her lips against him, the strands of dark hair tickling her nose. Her tongue flicked over his nipples, then down his breastbone, to his hard, flat stomach. Radulf groaned, and Lily stopped.
Uncertainly, her gaze lifted to his.
Her own blood was on fire from simply touching him, and she was amazed to see that Radulf, too, was burning. From her touch, her kisses! The realization gave her courage. Her fingers found the ties.
She was slow at first, clumsy, but as Radulf leaned forward to press hot little kisses over her face and down the line of her throat, she quickened, tugging eagerly at the laces.
The waist of his breeches loosened suddenly as the knot came free. Quickly Lily pushed them down so that she could see…She sighed. Ah, this was what Vorgen had lacked. She hadn’t then understood what could happen to a man who desired a woman. Radulf pulled back slightly and Lily hesitated, her fingers cool against his stomach. Again she remembered Vorgen—she couldn’t help it.
“Go on, lady.” Radulf’s voice was husky, sending deep tremors through her. “Touch me.”
Lily’s hand slid down, and tentatively, wonderingly, she closed around the hard length of him. He was so smooth, so big. Velvet-covered iron. At the tightening of her grip, Radulf groaned again, closing his eyes. Lily instantly relaxed her fingers, moving to withdraw, but his own hand closed over hers, giving her back her courage.
“I want you so much. Touch me, mignonne, feel me. This is all for you. I am yours.”
Flushed, her eyes bright, Lily obliged. “You like me to do this, my lord?” she whispered.
Radulf heard the surprise in her voice, and dismissed it as a virgin’s qualms. “Aye, Lily,” he managed, with a half laugh, half groan. “I like it very much. But we have not finished yet.”
If she kept on with her petting and stroking, Radulf knew he would explode. Gently, he took her hands in his, placing them about his neck. He leaned forward to kiss her, and at the same time clasped his hands about her waist. He lifted her up from her cozy spot on his lap.
Lily gave a startled squeal, clinging to his shoulders. He smiled into her uncertain eyes, his own like a night sky in July, so hot. Slowly, slowly he lowered her, until the tip of his manhood just nudged the blond curls between her thighs. Looking down, Lily held her breath. He lifted her again, then lowered her, and then again, each time sliding deeper into the welcoming sheath.
Radulf’s mouth found her breasts, pulling at the nipples, sucking hard. Lily gasped and arched them toward him, head thrown back, hair spilling about her. As he settled himself deeply and entirely within her, Lily leaned forward, brushing frantic butterfly kisses over his face and throat. Radulf gripped her hips more firmly, then thrust up deeply. Lily’s palms slid over his chest. She trembled, gasping, as he seemed to reach the very core of her being. The pleasure pooled between them, heavy and hot. Lily dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding on tightly, fearing she might be torn apart and flung to the four winds. When the convulsing climax took them, Radulf’s dark eyes stared into hers.
He spoke no words, yet it was as if Lily heard his vow: Whatever happens after, in this moment you are mine.
The strength went out of her body and she collapsed against Radulf, her cheek on his shoulder, his breath warm in her hair. “Whatever happens after,” she murmured.
Chapter 7
Lily lifted her face to the sun, easing her aching back and legs. The constant riding was tiring, and she had discovered sore spots in surprising places all over her body. Although, she thought, hiding a smile, there could be other reasons for her tenderness.
Last night they had camped on a sheltered hillside. Radulf had taken Lily to his tent, his arms all the warmth she needed as they lay together in the darkness. He treated her as if she were as necessary to him as food and water. Already her body had learned his so well that merely standing close to him caused a tremor of anticipation, her nipples hardening, warm moisture pooling between her thighs.
And Radulf felt it, too, she was certain of that.
She looked up now, sensing his eyes upon her, and noticed that he had indeed turned his head to seek her out. His expression might be deeply shadowed beneath his helmet, but she knew the emotion that would shape it.
Desire. Need.
Radulf wanted her.
Lily understood completely, for she wanted him, too.
She sighed and shifted uneasily in her saddle. How could she have allowed the Norman into her blood? It was madness to want such a man! It was not safe to want any man. Lily’s beloved father had died making war. Her childhood sweetheart had betrayed her for his own ambition. In her albeit limited experience, she had found men such as Radulf were not to be relied upon. Not to be trusted. Certainly she had never meant to get this close to one of them.
Especially not an enemy!
Radulf was a man of pride and honor, a Norman lord sworn to obey his king. Yet he was also a man of contrasts, light and dark, much more complex than the tales about him had led her to believe. Intellectually and emotionally, Lily found the combination of strength and vulnerability, of mastery and humor, irresistible. Physically, her body craved his as parched ground craved water.
She was caught in a terrible bind. She was tied by the fiery ropes of desire to a man who, if he knew her true identity, would be required to hand her over to his king. Already two days had passed, and with each hour that crept by, they drew closer to Rennoc.
And to discovery.
Radulf had slowed their pace after the first day. They dawdled, stopping often, enjoying the fine weather. When Lily asked Radulf why he was in no hurry to reach Rennoc, he laughed and bent closer, his warm breath sending tingles over her skin.
“Need you ask, lady? Or do you look for flattery?”
Lily lifted her chin proudly. “If I did not need to ask, my lord, I would not.”
His finger brushed her cheek. Her pride seemed to amuse him. “’Tis you who keeps me from my duty, mignonne.”
Lily’s gray eyes had searched his, discovering the truth of what he said. Pleasure warmed her. Her lips curved into a teasing smile, but her words contained more than a hint of tartness.
“And how many days have you set aside for this distraction, my lord? And will you put me from your mind when they are passed?”
They were questions Radulf had been asking himself, and still he did not know the answers. “That depends, Lily,” he murmured, and made himself return her smile. “You are pensive today.”
Lily turned away, watching a hawk, solitary above a rocky crag. “I am thinking of Rennoc,” she said.
He rode beside her in silence, his eyes on the perfection
of her profile, the soft wisps of fair hair that had escaped their braid to dance about her face. She was like no other woman he had ever known. Such beauty should mean a certain vanity, an expectation of men’s besottedness, but Lily acted as if she was unaware of her looks. There was no coyness about her, nothing flirtatious.
If he had met her anywhere else but hiding in Grimswade church, Radulf would have been tempted to trust her. But the circumstances of their meeting and his instant attraction, as well as his past experience, made him suspicious and wary. It was only when they lay together that he was able to abandon such suspicions.
“Tell me of your father.”
The suddenness of his question surprised Lily, but she didn’t let it show. The hawk had dived, vanishing behind some scrubby trees, but she kept watch for its return.
“Edwin of Rennoc is kind but firm, a good father and a good vassal.”
“And are you a good daughter?”
Lily smiled. “Of course.”
“Obedient?”
“Yes.”
“Loving?”
“Yes.”
“Truthful?”
Lily glanced at him, still smiling. “Why do you question me, my lord? Do you intend listing my shortcomings to him?”
Radulf frowned. “I would not dare, lady. It is you who should list my shortcomings. I have treated you with far less honor than you deserve.”
Surprised, Lily saw repentance in his eyes, but a certain arrogance, too. “Do you mean you are sorry for taking me to your bed, or sorry for the way in which it happened?”
“You were a maid.”
“I was widowed, so how could you know I was still a maid?”
“I should have known it.” His look was wry. “Truth to tell, Lily, I was too hot for you even then. And no, I am not sorry for taking you to my bed, only sorry that it was done so rashly.”