She tilted her head, looking up at him. Again, she felt as if she’d misjudged him. “And you remembered?”
He didn’t respond, but the way he was looking at her sent a flicker of unease whispering down her spine.
He wanted her.
Suddenly the tiny room felt like a trap. She looked to the door, but whether intentionally or not, he’d moved around to block it.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
He took a step closer, his eyes glinting dangerously in the semidarkness. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face to his.
Her pulse spiked with panic. He was shorter than Sir Arthur—perhaps by an inch or two—but somehow his size seemed threatening. It took everything she had not to shirk away.
“I wanted to show you what you would have as my wife. This room would be at your disposal. You will be one of the most important ladies in the kingdom. That is why you are here, Lady Anna, is it not? To renew talks of our betrothal?”
“Aye,” she whispered, trying to control the shakiness in her voice.
His eyes bored into her, challenging. “Is that what you really want?”
Her heart pounded furiously. She forced herself to nod. “Aye.”
“Then prove it,” he demanded. She blinked questioningly. “Kiss me.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “I … I …”
She struggled with what to say. Oh God, she couldn’t.
And he knew it. His gaze hardened. “Are you playing games with me, Lady Anna? I assure you I’ve no wish to be cuckold to another man. Recall that it is you who came to me this time.” His thumb slid over her bottom lip and she sucked in her breath, frozen in fear. “Decide what you want before you do something that cannot be undone. Once we are betrothed, I assure you I will not tolerate this foolishness.”
Anna’s cheeks flooded with heat, shamed by the truth of his accusations.
She pushed aside her fear, trying to remember why she was here. Trying to remember how important it was for her to succeed in forming this alliance. This was their chance. Why was she being so foolish? It was only a kiss.
“My lord, I’m sor—”
He dropped his hand from her face. She exhaled with too much relief.
“We should return to the Hall,” he said stiffly, coldly. “Your brother will wonder where I’ve taken you.”
She nodded, feeling helpless, knowing what she should do but unable to get the words out.
Damn Arthur Campbell to Hades for doing this to her! For confusing her. She’d been prepared to do this before he’d returned.
“If you don’t mind, my lord, I’m tired and would rather retire to my chamber.”
He nodded. “Take your time. Perhaps you might wish to borrow a book?” Her gaze shot to his, knowing he was trying to tempt her. “We can discuss this in the morning.”
He turned to leave. But then he seemed to change his mind. Before she realized what he was about to do, he’d pulled her in his arms and brushed his mouth over hers. Anna froze, too startled to resist.
His lips were cool and hard, not unlike the man. She caught the faint scent of wine, but it was over before she could process anything else.
He smiled, looking down at her stunned expression. “You have the night to decide. But if you want this betrothal to go forward, I’ll expect a response tomorrow. One a bit more enthusiastic than that.”
Ross had no idea how close he was to death.
Arthur gripped his dirk in his hand, every muscle straining against the bloodlust pounding through him. All he had to do was take a few steps, slipping out from his hiding place in the shadows behind the door, and plunge his blade deep in the bastard’s gut.
He’d kissed her.
He’d taken her in his arms and put his mouth to hers.
Something inside Arthur snapped. Every instinct urged him to strike out and kill the man who’d dared to touch what belonged to him.
But at the last minute, something stayed his hand. Killing Ross would put an end to his mission. He’d be forced to flee, and his opportunity to destroy Lorn would be lost.
It took every shred of control he had left not to move. But he let Ross walk out of the room. He let him live. This time.
Anna, however, would not escape his wrath so easily. He was going to make damned sure she had only one answer to give Ross in the morning. This planned betrothal of hers was about to come to a decisive end.
Ross’s footsteps had barely faded before Anna started to follow him. As she reached the door, Arthur slid out of the shadows to block her path.
She gasped. Any fear she might have felt quickly faded in the sudden flash of anger that set her eyes blazing. “How dare you spy on me!” She tried to push him out of the way, but he clasped her wrists in his hand. “Let go of me, you have no right.”
He spun her into the room and shut the door behind him. “I have every right,” he seethed. “You aren’t going to marry him.”
He could see her cheeks flush in the candlelight. Her chest—her incredible, too-ample chest that he couldn’t stop dreaming about—heaved with righteous indignation. That sweet face with its adorable, stubborn chin lifted to his. “Yes. I. Am.”
He didn’t like her tone at all. Not one bit. His eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t even kiss him.” He leaned closer, inhaling the sultry warmth of her fury. “How will it be, do you think, to bed him?”
She made a sharp sound of outrage. If she’d a dagger in her hand, Arthur had no doubt it would now be stuck between his ribs. But her tongue eviscerated just as painfully. “I suspect I will get used to it. Perhaps even come to enjoy it. Sir Hugh is a very handsome man. And he seems quite determined, don’t you think?” Her eyes taunted. Challenged. Driving him insane. “Yes, if it’s anything like that kiss, I imagine I’ll come to enjoy it quite a lot.”
He grabbed her arm. “Stop.” He shook her to him. “Stop.” He felt as if he were going to explode. Feelings he’d kept so long contained had been whipped to a frenzy by her taunting words. Feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge. Feelings he couldn’t let out. His head spun. His chest burned. God, it hurt. He had to make her stop.
“Why?” she demanded, leaning closer to him. The tips of her breasts grazed his chest, and he shook—he actually shook, every inch of his body poised on the knife-edge of restraint. Heat pulled him down a dark vortex of lust and desire. He wanted to crush her to him. To kiss her. To ravish her senseless. To make her scream his name and his alone.
“Why should I stop? It’s the truth. Sir Hugh strikes me as a man who sees what he wants and won’t let anything stand in the way until he gets it.”
He knew she was goading him, but he didn’t care. Arthur knew exactly what he wanted, damn it. Her.
He swore, knowing the battle was lost. He took her into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, giving in to the powerful feelings that had been waging war inside him.
He kissed her like he’d never kissed another woman before. He kissed her with all the passion that had been building inside from the first. He kissed her to make her stop. He kissed her to wipe away the hateful images she’d branded in his mind. He kissed her so she would never think about another man again.
But when she melted against him in silent surrender and opened her sweet little mouth to his with a sigh and a moan, he wasn’t thinking about missions or alliances, enemy clans or revenge. Nay, all he was thinking about was making her his.
Fifteen
Anna knew she was being rash, knew she was provoking him, but she didn’t care. Anger blinded her to anything but the need to lash out.
She hated him for interfering. For making her hesitate. For getting in the way of her plans.
All she’d ever wanted to do was protect her family and keep the people she loved safe. And now, when she had the chance, Arthur Campbell stood in her way.
He confused her. Confounded her. Made her care about him and then pushed her away. He saved her and protected her one moment, and then
ignored her the next. He was an outsider, a man who kept himself apart and seemed as if he didn’t need anyone. But he was also lonely, a man who’d been forced to the periphery by gifts that set him apart.
Did he want her? Did he need her?
One way or another, he would have to decide. Time had run out for them both. So she pushed. Knowing he was jealous. Knowing he’d seen the kiss Sir Hugh had given her. Knowing he was struggling for control.
She wanted him so badly. Standing so close to him, all she could think about was how good he smelled. How the dark shadow of his beard made him look even more ruggedly handsome. How tall he was. How broad his chest was. How soft his mouth looked even when white with anger. How she would give anything if he would take her in his arms and never let go.
Pain stabbed her chest. Why didn’t he want her? Why was he holding back?
So recklessly—desperately—she taunted him, wanting to hurt him as he’d hurt her. So what if it was a lie? So what if the thought of herself in bed with another man made her blood run cold? Enjoy? She could barely stop herself from trembling in fear in Sir Hugh’s presence.
When he snapped, she had her reward. Anna found herself in his arms with his mouth on hers, and he was kissing her with all the passion and emotion of which she’d dreamed.
He devoured her with his mouth and tongue. She moaned, sinking deeper into the kiss, wanting to feel every inch of his body against hers.
His big hands slid possessively over her, down her back, over her hips, slipping down to cup her bottom. He groaned in her mouth, kissing her deeper and harder as he molded her more firmly against him.
Sensation exploded inside her in a shimmering wave of heat.
Oh God, it was perfect! Chest to chest. Hip to hip. The hard evidence of his desire wedged intimately between her legs. She knew she should be shocked by the size and feel of him, but all she felt was excitement. Excitement that made her heart race, her skin flush, and her body tingle.
They were plastered together, but it wasn’t close enough. Restlessness built inside her with each delicious stroke of his tongue and each possessive caress of his hands.
She matched his boldness with her own. Her hands gripping the hard muscles of his arms, his shoulders, his back. She wanted to feel every inch of him under her fingertips, to sculpt every muscle with her palms. To hold his strength under her hands.
It made her feel … wild—heady with desire.
She’d never experienced anything like this. Her body had seemed to come alive. Her responses came naturally, as if she knew what she was doing. It was happening too fast to think. Desire had grabbed hold and would not let go.
He was pressing against her more insistently, rubbing his manhood against the most feminine part of her. It made her feel strange and tingly—warm and achy. But it wasn’t enough. She circled her hips harder against the thick column of flesh, craving the friction. Craving a deeper connection.
His mouth dipped down her throat, kissing, devouring. The scruff of his beard singeing a path across her flaming skin. The small room blazed hot and sultry with passion.
His hands slid around her waist, moving up to cup her breasts. She gasped, pressing harder and harder against his manhood as her back arched into his hands. He muttered something that sounded like a curse and rubbed his thumbs over her turgid, aching nipples, as his mouth feasted on the tender skin just above the edge of her bodice.
She felt so hot. So weak. Languid and heavy. Her legs seemed to have lost the strength to hold her up. She collapsed against him, and he pushed her back on the table to steady her—and maybe himself as well. The fiercely controlled knight seemed just as wild and frantic in his need as she.
His dark, silky hair spilled against her chest. Unable to resist, she threaded her fingers through the soft waves, gently pressing him harder against her. She could feel his mouth on her nipple through the fabric of her gown as his hands cupped and squeezed.
Not enough …
Seeming to sense her frustration, his tongue darted below her bodice.
She cried out at the wickedness, at the exquisite pleasure that rocked her. His mouth was so warm. His tongue circled and circled until she didn’t think she could stand any more. She was writhing against him, begging him to unleash the strange maelstrom building inside.
Finally, he pushed aside her gown—stretching the fabric to the ripping point—to release her breast. The cool air blew over her skin, prickling where he’d kissed her.
“Christ,” he groaned, sounding as if he were in pain. “You’re so damned beautiful.”
The sound of his voice might have broken through her trance, but before she could hold on to the moment of clarity, he covered her aching nipple with his mouth and sucked.
The sweet needle of sensation made her cry out.
Pleasure so acute it was nearly pain. He plied her with his teeth, flicked her with his tongue, and sucked her deeper and deeper into the warm suction of his mouth.
Heat spread between her legs in a rush of dampness. The tender flesh felt swollen and tingly.
The table was hard against her back. He’d wrapped her leg around his hip as he’d bent over her breast.
She could feel the pounding of his heart against hers. Feel his muscles straining with his desire for her. His weight covering her. She was hot. So incredibly hot. Aroused to the point of no return.
His hand slid under the edge of her gown, connecting with skin. He smothered her shock with a long drag of her nipple between his teeth.
Then his mouth was on hers again and his hands—dear Lord!—his hands were sliding between her thighs.
Embarrassed, she tried to close her legs. But he wouldn’t let her. His mouth distracted with long, languid strokes of his tongue, as his finger swept over her dampness.
Her body trembled at his touch. Her protests dissolved in a wave of shuddering relief. It felt so good. So amazingly good.
“Jesus, you’re so wet.”
He stopped kissing her and she wondered if she’d done something wrong, until she realized he was struggling, holding himself still as if fighting for control. As if touching her had taken his last bit of reserve. As if he was close to the breaking point.
His eyes met hers, holding her gaze as his finger slid inside her with a firm little push. It was the most wickedly erotic moment of her life.
She sucked in her breath, trying to still the sensations, but they were rushing by her so quickly in wave after quickening wave. He stroked her. First in soft little circles and then harder and faster in deep, frantic thrusts that mimicked the way he’d kissed her.
The sensations building inside her were too intense. Too powerful to contain. Tightening and coiling in a wicked whirlpool of need.
His face was a mask of pain. Sweat had gathered on his brow. His gaze held hers, dark and penetrating, holding her to him in a way that made her heart clench with happiness. In his eyes she read the truth—what she’d known all along. This connection between them was special. And he felt it, too.
She didn’t know what was happening to her, but it was perfect. Each stroke of his hand brought her closer to a peak she didn’t understand. She writhed in frustration, her body aching for …
“Let go, love,” he whispered. “I want to see you shatter.”
The husky sound of his voice broke through the last vestiges of maidenly repression. Her breath caught, and then released in a shuddering cry as her body seemed to come apart in sharp spasms of intense pleasure.
It was the most wondrous moment of her life, but as she stared into the dark depth of his gold-flecked eyes, Anna knew it wasn’t enough. Her passion had been satisfied, but her heart still throbbed with the need for fulfillment. She wanted a deeper connection. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted all of him. Forever.
I love him. Of course. It was so clear—so certain—she wondered how it could ever have been otherwise.
Warrior. Knight. It didn’t matter. For in her heart, Anna knew she’d
found the man she was meant to share her life with.
Arthur couldn’t wait any longer. The pressure had gathered like a hot fist at the base of his spine, building toward the throbbing tip of his cock, demanding release.
Touching her.
Hearing her cry out in sharp gasps of pleasure.
Feeling her body weep and shudder around his hand.
He clenched his teeth, holding it back, knowing he was about to come like he’d never come before.
Jesus, she was so damned beautiful. Honey-gold hair spread out behind her head, shimmering in the candlelight. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Eyes dazed and heavy with passion. One perfectly formed breast heaving out of her bodice, big and soft, the tight little nipple red from his mouth.
She looked like a wanton who couldn’t wait to get tupped. My wanton. All mine.
Jesus, he repeated, half prayer, half oath. He’d never felt like this before. Desire had consumed him.
“Arthur,” she whimpered. “Please …”
The raw desperation in her voice was the last thread. He couldn’t wait another moment to be inside her.
He practically ripped open the buckles and ties of his chausses and braies to release his engorged cock. But the freedom from confinement and breath of fresh air provided little relief. The only thing that was going to ease his pain right now was being inside her.
He lifted one lithe, long, and flawlessly creamy leg around his hip and positioned himself at her warm and deliciously wet entry. Next time he’d take the time to taste her. To slide his tongue inside and make her come against his mouth.
He held her gaze the entire time, not daring to look away for fear of breaking the powerful connection that had risen between them.
He should have felt a flicker of hesitation. A feeling that what he was about to do was wrong. Honor was important to him, even if the knightly code was not.
But he didn’t.
All he could think about was that he couldn’t lose her. That he had to make her his. That if he could only do so, everything would be all right.
When the sensitive head of his cock met the damp heat of her entry, a deep, guttural groan of pure pleasure tore from him.
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