“Shhh, Leila, do not fight me,” Guy murmured, his warm breath finding a ticklish place beneath her earlobe. “I have not deceived you. You have deceived only yourself. Surely you know a man and woman sleep little on their wedding night. There is too much love to be shared.”
“I don’t love you!”
“Ah, but I love you,” he said huskily. “More than life itself. That gives me plenty to share with you until the day you admit you love me, too.”
“That day will never come—”
“It will!” Guy insisted passionately as he gently but firmly drew her chin around to face him. He caressed her jaw and throat, his eyes searing hers with unflagging conviction. “It will.”
Leila gasped as his mouth came down on hers, his kiss so achingly tender that she felt it all the way to her toes. His lips were startlingly warm and he pressed lightly, as if savoring the taste of her. His tongue felt like velvet when he flicked it across her wet lips, then he parted them and probed deeper, his kiss becoming rough as he stroked her inner softness.
His kisses went on and on for long breathless moments, growing so demanding, so irresistible she could not help but respond with equal fervor. She scarcely realized she had fallen back onto the mattress until he lifted his head. She was facing upward and staring dazedly into his eyes, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“I want to know everything about you, Leila,” he said ardently, caressing her cheek. “Everything. You are a wondrous mystery to me, like that brightest star in the heavens. I want to know what makes you smile, what makes you laugh” —he seized her mouth in another deep, prolonged kiss, breathing his next words against her parted lips when he pulled away briefly—”what makes you moan and writhe in pleasure.”
Leila was so dizzy from his impassioned kisses that she did not protest when his hand slipped under her nightrail and glided slowly up her leg. His touch was whisper light, his fingertips just grazing the curved line of her hip before sweeping upward across her belly to the rose-scented hollow between her breasts. She sighed aloud when he cupped a firm mound and squeezed gently.
“So you like it when I do this,” Guy murmured, trailing his tongue down her throat as he ran his roughened palm across a sensitive tip, back and forth, back and forth, until she thought she might surely scream. “Tell me, Leila. Tell me if you like it. I want to know.”
“Yes,” she breathed, tossing her head. “Yes!”
“Then I’m sure you will enjoy this even more.”
Leila’s eyes grew wide as he suddenly flung back the covers and brought himself up on his knees beside her. Then taking the thin fabric of her nightrail in both his hands, he ripped it in two. As her delicately limbed body was bared to his gaze, he straddled her with strong, muscled thighs the size of her waist and bent over her breasts, flicking a taut, rosy nipple with his tongue.
“How do you like this, my beautiful love?” he asked huskily, circling first one aureole, then the other, with what felt like a wet ring of fire. His caresses were no longer gentle but fierce and possessive.
Leila could not answer, her throat was so constricted with pleasure. She had already surrendered to the sensual power he wielded over her. All she wanted now was for him to continue what he was doing to her … to feed the sweet madness that was escalating inside her like a fever.
As he covered a tingling nipple with his mouth, drawing upon it hungrily, incredible flashes of heated sensation surged through her, and she pressed her hands against his thighs, her fingers splaying spasmodically against skin and corded muscle. She thought fleetingly of his hard arousal so close within her reach and was tempted to caress and stroke him as she had been taught. But something deep inside her forbade the wanton impulse. A tiny inner voice told her she must hold some small part of herself back from this man who had taken everything from her.
The voice was suddenly silenced, Leila’s thoughts scattering when Guy spread her legs wide and knelt between them. His lips forged a fiery path along the soft undersides of her breasts and then down her taut belly.
“I know what will please you, my lady wife,” he whispered hoarsely, his tongue dipping into her navel. When she arched in delicious surprise, moaning softly, he raised his head and smiled roguishly at her, his eyes stained dark blue with passion. With a low growl of laughter, he licked a sensuous trail to the downy black hair at the juncture of her thighs.
Leila cried out as he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth, his panting breath as hot as his tongue which speared into her. She clutched the sheets, her thighs tensing in excitement, wholly overcome by his wet, thrusting assault. An intense pressure was building inside her, radiating from the tiny swollen bud where he teased her so relentlessly.
“No more, please … It is too much,” she begged him almost incoherently, bucking and twisting. She pushed frantically at his shoulders, her nails leaving red scratches. “Please …”
Guy ignored her cries, pressing further into her warm, seductive fragrance. Her taste intoxicated him, exciting him beyond measure. It was all he could do to contain his own burning desire, yet he wanted to drive her to the brink of ecstasy. Only when she began to tremble uncontrollably, her moans becoming throaty whimpers, did he rise above her. Catching her wrists high above her head, he embedded himself to the hilt within her slick softness.
“Ah, Leila … how I have dreamed …”
He said no more as her hot sheath tightened inexorably around him. He began to move within her, pulling back, then straining into her again as far as he could reach. He wanted to go slowly, to prolong the sweet agony that was consuming them both, but it was impossible. His movements became bold and fierce, made all the more so as she began to writhe beneath him, her hips rising seductively to meet his every thrust. He was shaking and on fire from want of her, his own climax looming ever closer.
“Come with me, Leila … love,” he urged, the scorching pressure in his loins like nothing he had ever felt with any other woman. “Come with me. Now!”
For a breathless instant Leila marveled that she was not torn in two by the sheer size of his pounding flesh, then in the next moment, she was being carried away with him upon a wave of such blinding rapture that time ceased for her altogether. She was oblivious to all but the wild beating of blood and heart, then a throbbing rush of wet, blazing heat, deep, deep inside her …
She could not say how many minutes passed before she felt Guy release her wrists and lift his weight to his elbows, but it was long enough to allow their frantic breathing to ease. She opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her, smiling tenderly.
“I take it I pleased you well, my lady,” he said, brushing her swollen, love-bruised lips with a kiss that was as light as air. He moved his hips provocatively against hers, their bodies still joined as one. “I think you can guess how well you pleased me.”
She did not answer, a furious blush creeping over her cheeks and spreading down her throat to her high, upturned breasts. Seeing it, Guy chuckled. He bent his head and was about to draw a soft pink crest into his mouth when she gasped, trying to twist away from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked incredulously. “We have already—”
“Surely you don’t think I have had my fill of you, my love,” Guy cut in huskily, feeling himself grow hard again from her abrupt movement. God’s blood, he would never have enough of her! He stroked a delicately boned shoulder, reveling in the silkiness of her skin. “Wedding nights are meant to last well into the morning. There is still much I’d like to share with you, and I believe you have things to share with me.” He dragged his gaze from her puckered nipples and stared into her eyes. “Tell me more about those sensual arts you were taught in the harem, Leila. What special techniques did you learn?”
Anger swept her. How dare he expect her to share her erotic knowledge with him! To do so would be a final betrayal of Jamal and everything she held to be right and decent. When she returned to Damascus, she would still possess at least some of her inn
ocence.
“Anything I learned in the harem was not for your benefit, Lord de Warenne,” she said tartly. “Those skills are reserved for my husband.”
“I am your husband, Leila.”
“Not my rightful husband!” The minute the words were out she regretted them, for Guy’s powerful body tensed, his eyes a dark, stormy hue.
“This afternoon you became my wife before God and man in the holiest of ceremonies,” he said with quiet fury. “Your consent was witnessed by me, the priest, and King Edward. If that does not make me your rightful husband, Lady de Warenne …”
To her utter amazement he suddenly rolled onto his back, carrying her with him. Her hair, loosed from its braid, spilled over them like a veil of glistening black silk, and she braced her hands on his muscular, sweat-glazed chest. She could feel his heartbeat race beneath her fingertips as he seized her around the waist and began to move slowly within her, his breathing coming harder, faster, his eyes burning into hers.
“I told you that the day would come when you would admit your love for me. If that means I must also wait for you to share yourself fully with me, everything that you know, everything that you are, then so be it! But understand this, woman. You are mine!”
Leila felt her anger fading as raw excitement gripped her, his deep thrusts stoking flames of desire that she thought had been long since quenched. There was no use fighting him. His sensual power over her was far too compelling.
But that did not mean he was gaining any hold on her heart, she told herself, losing all control as he drew her roughly toward him and nuzzled her breasts. Her body might surrender, but not her soul. She would shelter it against anything he might say or do while she watched for the time when she could leave him and his futile love behind forever …
Her defiant thoughts fled as passion overcame her, his glittering blue eyes sending her an unmistakable challenge.
You will love me, Leila, his gaze seemed to say. One day, you will love me!
Guy captured her lips, kissing her with a possessive fire that drove her ever closer to flinging herself from that shimmering precipice …
God help her. No matter how often she assured herself otherwise, deep down she feared she already did love him.
Chapter 20
“My dear girl, wake up! You must bathe and dress quickly or we’ll miss the opening festivities.” Leila’s eyes flickered open and she half sat up, surprised by the trio of female faces looking down at her. She recognized the plump Matilda de Warenne, countess of Surrey and wife to Guy’s overlord, John, but not the two other well-dressed women.
Had she met them last night at the coronation feast? she wondered dazedly. Guy had introduced her to so many people after they had returned as husband and wife to the great hall …
Guy. Leila glanced at the empty space beside her and realized for the first time that she was alone in the bed.
“Of course he’s gone, child. Your husband is jousting in the king’s tournament today. He’s been up since dawn preparing for his match.”
Since dawn? Leila’s cheeks grew warm. Obviously only she had fallen into an exhausted slumber after the abandoned lovemaking that carried them into the early morning hours. Her wanton thoughts scattered when she felt a friendly tug on her arm.
“Up with you now, Leila. Your husband will be most anxious to see his lovely bride seated in the royal pavilion when he rides onto the field. I know you must be bone-tired from your wedding night, but we’ll surely miss …” Matilda paused when the two younger women standing beside her tittered, quelling them with a not-too-severe glance. “Have you met these ladies?”
Leila shook her head. “I’m not sure. Yesterday was such a blur—”
“Of course it was,” the countess interjected kindly, patting her hand. “I still can’t believe your brother … On the other hand, I suppose I can—” She stopped, clearing her throat, and gestured to the pleasant-faced woman on her left, who dropped a quick curtsy. “This is Lady Margaret Gray, and this” —she nodded to the other woman, who had very pale, pinched features that were pretty nonetheless— “is Lady Blanche de Hengham. They’re both married to knights who serve my husband. In fact, their husbands are also riding in the tournament.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Leila intoned with a small smile, remembering the expected niceties Guy had taught her on the way to London.
As the two women smiled warmly, the countess added, “I brought Blanche and Margaret along this morning because I thought you might like to sit in the pavilion with some young women your own age. Guy left me a message asking me to allow you to sleep as long as possible, and I have, but now we must hurry.”
Leila gasped and hastily covered her breasts as Matilda matter-of-factly threw back the covers.
“Oh heavens, child! I possess the same equipment as you, only much more padded. Now out of bed with you and into the tub before the water grows cold.”
Leila quickly obeyed her, recalling that Guy had said the countess was like a mother hen not only to her brood of seven children but also to the wives of her husband’s knights. Now it was clear that she, too, was under the countess’s maternal wing.
As Leila settled into the deliciously warm water, two serving women who had been waiting patiently near the door came forward to assist her. One began to bathe her with a soft sponge while the other expertly soaped her hair. Strangely, their gentle ministrations reminded her of Nittia and Ayhan, so instead of protesting she decided to enjoy it.
“Leila, which gown would you like to wear today?” came the countess’s voice from the bed.
Leila squinted to keep any errant soap suds from stinging her eyes. But she forgot all about any possible discomfort when she spied the five beautiful kirtles with matching silk veils laid out upon the newly made bed. The garments made a vivid rainbow of color: royal blue, peacock, scarlet, deep lilac, and silvery peach.
“Where did they come from?” she asked, stunned.
“Your husband kept Queen Eleanor’s seamstresses up most of the night making these gowns for you so they would be ready this morning,” Matilda replied with a smile. “Didn’t you hear him discussing what he wanted with one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting during the coronation feast?”
“No,” Leila murmured.
In truth, she hadn’t been paying attention to much at all last night, her mind lost to anxious thoughts of what was yet to come. How could she have known then that the wedding night she feared would prove so distressingly wonderful? Her skin puckered with goosebumps as passionate memories pressed in upon her, but the stirring images vanished when Matilda spoke again.
“Guy chose the colors, saying the more vibrant the better. He wanted to show off your beauty to its best advantage. He’s very proud of you, my dear.”
“Lord de Warenne sent several of his own knights to London to buy this for you,” Margaret added excitedly, holding up a finely linked silver girdle inlaid with creamy pearls.
“And this,” Blanche said, showing Leila a delicate silver fillet studded with glittering amethysts.
“Oh, my,” Leila said softly.
“You are a lucky young woman,” Matilda said, fingering the fine damask fabric of one gown. “Guy has done well for himself with what he inherited from his father and Ranulf de Lusignan. He has become a wealthy man and can well provide for your needs.” She glanced pointedly at Leila. “He must love you very deeply. He adorns you like a queen. And to think you were willing to forgo all of this in hopes of returning to Damascus. I’m glad you came to your senses.”
Leila caught her breath, the color draining from her face.
Guy must have told Matilda all about her, as he had told Edward and Eleanor. Either that, or the news had spread directly from their majesties to the rest of the court. She must have been the subject of some intense gossip indeed.
“It was not my intent to criticize you, Leila,” Matilda said more gently. “You’ve had to make a very difficult adjustment to a land wholly foreign to
you, and you’ve accommodated yourself well, I must say. One would never know you had grown up in a heathen country. I’m sure you will discover you’ve made the right choice in marrying Guy. He is a courageous and loyal knight. What more could any woman want?”
It was hardly a choice, Leila thought, her resentment at Guy flaring anew, though now it was strangely tempered by the passion they had shared last night. Guy might be a brave knight, but he was still a barbarian in her eyes.
She glanced at the gowns upon the bed, sighing. Would a coarse barbarian have put such care and thought into clothing his wife? That premise was being shaken with each passing day. But worst of all, the same swamping sense of unease that had plagued her until she fell asleep in Guy’s arms was assailing her again.
Whatever was the matter with her? She had to admit she was utterly baffled by her emotions, and frightened by them, too. How could she possibly be falling in love with a man she hated? A man she was determined to leave as soon as she found the means?
“Please close your eyes, my lady, so I may rinse your hair,” the serving maid requested.
Leila did so, leaning her head back and vainly hoping the warm water would flush from her brain any absurd notion of being in love with the man who had ruined her life as surely as the soap suds were falling from her hair. She rose from the tub, agonizing over a solution to this unexpected dilemma as the serving women buffed her dry with soft towels.
“You didn’t tell us which gown, Leila.”
Matilda’s innocent statement startled Leila from her troubled musings and gave her an idea.
What if she could prove to Guy that their backgrounds were just too dissimilar for their marriage to succeed? Surely he would then be all too happy to allow her to go back to Damascus. It was obvious from the countess’s earlier words that she had given in far too easily to the customs of this culture. Well, no more! She would show Guy and everyone else just how different she was!
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