by M. J. Scott
My smile widened. “Is that so? Well, then. How’s this? You helped me into this dress. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to help me out of it now?”
“How attached are you to it?” His voice was no longer a drawl, more like a purr.
“It’s silk. Expensive.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
I laughed and felt my heart crack a little that he could make me feel so giddy amid the chaos. Then I ruthlessly pushed my doubts away. No more thinking. “It’s a one-of-kind design. Besides, patience is a virtue. Aren’t gentlemen meant to be virtuous?”
He laughed then. “Not when they’re removing a woman’s clothes, they’re not.”
“Touché. But perhaps I’m in the mood to take things slowly.”
“You’re in the mood to kill me.”
“No.” I let my smile widen, and then stood, turning slowly so he could reach the fastenings on my dress. “If you die, then we won’t get to have any fun at all.”
“But I’d die happy.”
“You’d be happy. But where would I be?”
His hands moved to the first button, then paused and stroked my back. “True. A gentleman is meant to see to the well-being of others before himself.”
I laughed again, a bubble of delight rising within me. I’d known I’d wanted him, known the physical yearning for him, but this new playful side of him was as enticing to my mind as the rest of him was to my body. I’d never imagined that a laughing lover might lurk beneath the steel and serious nature.
But apparently I was lacking imagination, because with each silly, teasing exchange I could feel my worries dissolving and a bubble of happiness rising around us where we could just be. Worries could be dealt with in the clear light of day. Right now I wanted the laughter and the pleasure.
Maybe that was selfish but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Not too slowly,” I admonished as he started on the buttons, his fingers moving with infinite care on the silk.
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you? Why don’t you just relax and let me take care of this?”
“I. Am. Not. Bossy,” I said, only half pretending outrage.
“Oh, really? That’s not how it seems to me. You’ve been ordering me around all day. You like being in charge, don’t you?” The last of the buttons slipped free and he pushed the dress down off my shoulders so it pooled at my feet. His mouth drifted down to my neck, alternating kisses with wickedly gentle bites that set my nerves alight. “You’d probably like nothing better than tying me to the bed and having your wicked way with me.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but somehow my tongue was frozen as the image of Guy naked and bound on my bed sprang to mind. All that muscle and hardness mine to do with it as I wished?
Oh my.
My nipples went hard against the silk of the corset, the restrictive pressure making them almost painful. Almost, but not quite. I sucked in a breath, shook my head to clear it.
“Thought so,” he said with a chuckle. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, I think we’ll start with something simpler before we start deciding who gets to be in charge. Like me inside you. How does that sound?”
I wasn’t sure I could answer as his words echoed around my head and my body tightened in response. His fingers worked the laces of my corset and before I knew it I was left wearing my shift and stockings while Guy circled around me. “Very nice,” he said, taking me in.
I wondered if he was expecting me to blush and shield myself as a polite and proper lady might. If he did, he was going to be disappointed. I enjoyed the expression on his face as he studied me. Though, I had to admit, if he kept looking at me that way for too much longer, I might do something pathetically proper-lady-like and collapse because my knees had given way.
I tossed my hair back over my shoulders, knowing that the thin silk of my chemise wasn’t concealing much at all. “Surely gentlemen don’t wear evening clothes to bed?”
“Darlin’, the only thing I want to wear tonight is you.” He tugged his shirt over his head and it flew across the room somewhere. I didn’t watch where it landed; I was too busy gazing at what its absence had revealed.
Oh. My.
He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Muscle carved his chest and arms and turned them into living sculptures. The male personified. But it wasn’t a perfect unearthly beauty. No. This body had fought and struggled. There was a long scar across his ribs, and faded white lines from other wounds crossed the gold of his skin of his arms and shoulders.
This man had fought. And won.
He was strong and true.
And if I didn’t have him very soon, I was going to scream
“Very nice,” I said. “Now the trousers.”
“You’re taking charge again.”
“Someone has to.”
“You’re the one who wanted to go slowly.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I want fast. And hard. And really, right now would be just fine with me.”
It was his turn to go still. He sucked in a breath. A breath that turned into a groan. “Don’t joke about that.”
I backed toward the bed. “Who said I was joking?”
His shoes practically vanished from his feet and his trousers fell to the ground. Apparently what Templars wore under their clothes was really not much at all. Thin linen drawers that looked as if they’d rip off quite nicely.
“Sweet lords of hell,” I said softly.
His face turned serious. “I’d rather they didn’t have anything to do with this,” he said.
“I’d rather we stopped talking altogether.”
“Fine with me.” He moved fast when he wanted to, and before I knew quite what happened I was lying on the bed with him on top of me. His mouth came down on mine again and suddenly there was no more thinking. There was only sensation.
Heat streaked through me as I felt him hard between my legs, hot beneath that linen barrier. I arched against him, wanting more of the pleasure beating at me. We turned and twisted and my shift disappeared with a silken rip as we bit and kissed and tasted in a frenzy, rolling across the bed in an attempt to find the place where we were closest together.
“Holly,” Guy groaned. “We should slow down.”
“Guy DuCaine,” I growled in response. “If you slow down now, I really will kill you.”
That earned me another dose of that smile and a “if you say so, darlin’,” in that velvet drawl that made me want him even more.
Then, to my consternation, he pulled himself away from me.
“Where are you going?” I demanded. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
He chuckled. “Just trying to take these off.” He stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his drawers and pushed them down slightly. Trouble was, with his erection standing proudly, they were never going to slide down willingly.
I rocked up to my knees and reached to help him. “Buttons,” I said. “Buttons are important.” And cooperative. They slipped free and so did he. Hard male flesh bared to my gaze and grasp.
“Sweet lords of—” I broke off, remembering his request. “All that’s holy,” I said in the end, and wrapped my fingers around him before he could remonstrate. “Come here.” I slid my hand up, then down, then back up.
He sucked in a breath. “Holly, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to move at all.”
I lifted my hands. “All right. I’ll behave. Or misbehave rather. If you care to join me?”
“Don’t mind if I do, at that.” He reached out and pulled me closer effortlessly. Strong, this man. I wasn’t small, but he could lift me as if I were no more than a feather. It made me feel protected somehow. And powerful, knowing that right now all that strength and power were focused on me and that I could bring him to his knees with a touch if I chose.
Of course, he could pretty much bring me to mine the same way.
I wrapped myself around him and pulled his head down to mine, pressing my mouth to his to taste him again. It made
my head spin and the room sway and I almost didn’t notice that we were moving. By the time we broke for breath, I was lying on my back once more and Guy was above me with nothing between us this time. He liked being on top.
Fine with me for now, but later, I’d see how he liked the tables being turned. I had no illusions that having him once would be enough. It was going to be a long night if he lived up to my expectations. I smiled at the thought.
He looked half-dazed as our eyes met. As if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing there. I decided to remind him and hooked a leg around his thigh, pulling him closer still. I ached for him. I’d had enough of kisses and caresses. Crazy, given we’d barely started. Usually I’d want to take my time, but right now all I knew was the fact that I wanted him inside. Wanted to know him in that primitive way. Wanted nothing between us at all.
“Veil’s eyes, Guy,” I said desperately, “I want you. Now.”
He laughed then, long and low, and slid himself against me. It wasn’t enough. We could do slow and teasing later. Now I needed him, needed his weight against me, and his hands on me, and him inside me. I arched my hips, changing position. “I said now.” And angled myself over him.
He slid home and I felt a satisfied wash of pleasure that went all the way down to my bones. Guy groaned.
“Don’t be gentle on my account,” I whispered in his ear before biting it none too softly.
“Whatever my lady commands,” he said, and then he moved. Fast. Strong. And oh so right. Heat flared and bloomed between us until the lights behind my eyes turned red and I couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t do anything but move with him as he took me—as I took him. Fast and hot and hard, both of us gasping and struggling to get closer, nearer, deeper.
Pleasure built and washed and built, over and over, until suddenly, one of us—I couldn’t tell anymore who—cried out and one last wave took me and broke over us so I came screaming his name.
* * *
When I woke, the room was mostly dark, only the faintest light coming through the window. The other side of the bed was empty, no warm male body filling it. I struggled up, trying to work out what time it might be. I didn’t feel as though I’d slept very long. We’d been busy, my Templar and I. My body stilled hummed pleasantly from the aftermath. “Guy?” I said softly into the darkness.
There was a rustle from the direction of the window. “Did I wake you?”
My vision adjusted to the darkness as I turned toward the sound of his voice. He stood near the window, the faint outline of a man, head bowed. “What are you doing over there?”
“Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“Old habits?”
“We have dawn services every day. I’m pretty much programmed to wake up at this hour.”
Damn. He hadn’t been just standing there; he’d been praying. He’d climbed from my bed after we’d spent hours doing things I didn’t think his God approved of and he was standing in the dark, praying. Offering up whatever it was he offered.
“Do you want some light?”
His head turned to me, his face a pale blur. “No. Go back to sleep. I don’t need the light to do this.”
That seemed wrong somehow. I’d dragged him into my world, into the darkness—and likely would drag him deeper before we were done—but that didn’t mean he had to be cloaked in it. I fumbled toward the small table at the side of my bed, found matches, and lit a candle.
The bright flame made my vision blur all over again. I squinted until it cleared. Guy wore just his shirt and gray Templar trousers. His feet were bare. I swung mine down out of bed and carried the candle over to him, wrapping the sheet around me as I walked. “Here.”
He took it and nodded. “Thank you. But I’m nearly finished.”
“But it’s not dawn yet.”
“I don’t think God minds if I’m a bit early.” His mouth quirked. “And what the brothers don’t know can’t hurt them. It’s the same as being on a campaign. Pray where you can and let God worry about the rest.”
I cocked my head at him, not believing him. He’d given me peace last night. Peace and pleasure in the darkness of the bed we’d shared. But now, with the light, reality came creeping. Along with guilt and worry. “I disturbed you. I’ll go back to bed.”
His hand snaked out, caught my wrist. “You could join me.”
“I don’t think we pray to the same God.” Religion wasn’t something that occupied much of my time. As far as I could tell, the gods weren’t that interested in me either.
“Praying is praying. Father Cho would say all gods are the same.”
“A lot of people would disagree with him. The entire Fae race, for instance.”
“Well, the Fae are peculiar, we all know that.”
I didn’t point out that I was half Fae. “So are you.” It didn’t matter if he thought I was odd. He was never going to be a permanent fixture in my life. This could only be a temporary interlude. Some snatched moments of pleasure. Before the darkness caught up with us both. I shivered, knowing the cool dawn air wasn’t entirely to blame.
His hand loosened. “You’re cold. Get back into bed.”
“You must be cold too.” But I’d yet to see him show any sign of noticing the weather. In bed, he’d radiated heat—almost as much as a Beast.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Would it work?”
“Perhaps. There aren’t usually any mostly naked women around at our dawn services.” He was smiling properly now.
“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.”
“Yes. It seems they’re distracting.”
First I’d made him pray in the dark and now I was distracting him from praying at all. If his view of the world and what came after was the correct one, then I was probably in for some trouble. I climbed into bed and pulled the counterpane up around me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Distraction is a choice.”
“That sounds like Templar talk again.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have to focus when you’re doing what you do.”
He had me there. I was good at ignoring whatever wasn’t important to accomplish the job at hand. But right now what was important if I was going to accomplish anything was the man standing by my window. I needed to understand him better. I knew him physically but he was still a mystery.
The Fae say that you can’t use a tool properly until you understand it. I didn’t want to think I was using Guy, but I couldn’t claim to be completely innocent in that regard. Then again, neither could he.
So, understand the man. Come to grips with what he was. A Knight Templar. A holy warrior. Someone who believed in God and redemption and all the things I had no time for.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, not moving from the window. “Did I say something I shouldn’t?”
“No.” I pulled the counterpane closer, letting my chin rest on the soft velvet. “Just thinking.”
“That’s rarely a good sign.”
“What, women thinking?”
He laughed. “I have no problem with women thinking. My mother and sisters are cleverer than I am.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I meant that a lover sitting in bed telling you she’s thinking is not usually good news.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact he’d had enough lovers to have learned that particular lesson. And that was very much the pot calling the kettle black. It wasn’t much of a reach to think that I had probably had more bed partners than a man who’d become a Templar at seventeen.
“You think I’m going to throw you out of bed after only one night?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” In the candlelight his eyes seemed very blue as they watched me. Waiting for my verdict perhaps?
“Well, those particular females must’ve been crazy.” Or possessed of a better sense of self-preservation than I. “Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“What were you thinking about?�
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I glanced at the candle, watched the flame dance for a few seconds. “Why did you become a Templar?”
“Why did I become a Templar or why do I believe what I believe?”
“Are those two different questions?”
“Maybe. Sometimes. But the latter is often what people want to know when they ask me about being a knight.”
I cocked my head. “Both. Either. You decide.”
His brows lifted. “You want to talk theology?”
“It seems appropriate. If you’re usually in church at this time of the morning, then anything else would be vaguely . . .”
“Sacrilegious? As I said, I don’t think my God cares when I pray.”
“Are you avoiding my question?”
“No. Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m curious. You didn’t have to do this. Your family is wealthy. You could have been anything. Or done nothing. Yet you chose to do something dangerous because of your belief in one God. I don’t understand it.”
“God? Or choosing to believe.” He set the candle in its holder on the windowsill and settled himself onto a nearby chair.
“Both. But the first seems to be a subject we’re unlikely to agree on. Tell me why you dedicated your life to danger when you didn’t have to.”
“Is that the only reason for doing something? Because you have to?”
I pulled the covers tighter. Different worlds, this man and I. “For doing something dangerous, it’s the most compelling reason.”
“You’re a spy. That’s dangerous.”
“Do you think I’d be a spy if I had had a choice?” Would anybody? I risked my life doing what I did. Traded terror and danger for cold, hard cash. Guy did it for devotion. How could he understand?
“I don’t know. Would you?”
“No.”
“Yet you chose to become one.”
“I had to.”
“There are other ways to earn money.”
“That’s easy for someone with your background to say. Try being poor in the border boroughs. See how far that gets you. My mother was a whore. Not many people tend to give you a chance when your mother sells her body for money. Of course, Madame Figg would have given me a chance to follow in Mama’s footsteps.”