She let his highhandedness go. It was a start. "I see. I suppose you’ll also want to join me at my daily swordplay?" The prospect seemed surprisingly pleasant.
He grinned. "Wouldn’t miss it. I admit, I found you impressive--the few times I’ve seen you practice. You certainly upstaged that lieutenant." There was a glint of possessiveness in his eye.
Shaking her head, Allyson spooned barley pudding onto her plate. "I tried not to embarrass him too badly. Men are touchy about a woman defeating them in battle. I hope you’re more resilient." They both knew she was bantering with him. Roland was a match for her and then some.
"I’ll try not humiliating you too badly." He smiled and polished off his breakfast.
There was a sweet peace to the silence that followed. It was expectant, hopeful. It had been a long time, if ever, that Ally had felt that way. If it were an indication of how things might be between them, this marriage of theirs might actually have a chance.
* * * *
They adjourned to the bailey for their morning exercise. Thinking nothing of it, Roland peeled off his shirt in preparation and heard a gasp. He glanced at his wife and found her trying not to stare. Idly, he wondered if she would sketch him into her journal. Women did appreciate his body, and his Ally seemed to be no exception.
He gave her a slow grin. "You don’t think the view will mar your swordplay today, do you?"
She glanced at the gathering spectators and sent him a quelling look. "Hardly, though it might win you some fans from the ladies in the crowd."
"You should talk. I think you painted on those pants of yours." The black leather did look lethal on her. She’d certainly gotten his attention.
Ally smirked and drew her sword. "I’ll take what advantages I can get." Her style was fluid and deceptively straightforward. The businesslike approach smacked of boredom, the lack of frills, and lack of learning. Yet time and again she met his strokes with a strong arm and a quick parry. He was enjoying this.
When he deemed her sufficiently warmed up, he increased his speed and slipped in some of his more dangerous moves. She countered every one, though sweat began to slick her skin. Concentration turned her face to a mask. She was good.
Roland poured on the heat. She lasted ten seconds before her sword went flying. He placed his sword at her throat. "Do you yield?"
"Of course." She retrieved her sword and sheathed it. "That skill of yours should prove useful here. I’ve any number of disgruntled neighbors for you to practice on." She offered a slight smile.
Thinking she was embarrassed by her defeat, he smiled gravely. "You did well. Most men don’t last as long. I’ll have to get you in the lists more often."
She shook her head. "Too much to do, though I’m certain there are plenty of fellows here eager to oblige you. You forget, my swordplay is simply an exercise that occasionally lends itself to useful applications. I have a very fine guard to protect me otherwise. I’ll be in the study going over the planting schedule when you are finished."
He almost went after her. She was just too complacent, had exercised too little.
A young soldier with a cocky smile stepped in his path. "I’ll spar with you, my lord."
Roland just couldn’t resist.
* * * *
The moment she rounded a corner, Ally risked a casual look behind to make certain Roland hadn’t followed. As soon as she was safely shut in her private garden, she sank against the wall and let out her breath. Certainly, she’d felt uncomfortable over her defeat, but Roland was skilled and she’d half-expected it. But that wasn’t why she was hiding. One more minute of viewing that body of his and she’d have gone as boneless as strawberry cream.
Oh, he was magnificent! She shook herself and pushed off the wall to pace. A man like that shouldn’t be allowed out in public--not without his shirt, anyway. It was a shock that she’d even been able to lift her sword, let alone swing it. But what woman would blame her? The man was glorious, every inch of him a hard plane begging for a woman’s appreciative hand.
Trust him to find her vulnerable spot.
She was slipping. There was no ignoring it. Sharing a room, letting him kiss her … these things were leading to an inevitable conclusion, and she still had the summer and fall to get through. There was no way around it--she was going to have to take him as a lover.
Not just any lover, of course, for this would have to be on her terms. She thought she knew him well enough to gamble on his honor in this. If she offered certain privileges, but made him swear it would go no further....
She was no stranger to this. It was what she would’ve had with Merrick, had his principles not interfered. Their arrangement had been specific--no love play. He wasn’t about to have another woman leave him on the grounds that he couldn’t fulfill her. Ally was one of the few people who knew the details of his failed marriage. He’d tried to give his wife the physical release she’d desired with love play, and though she’d achieved satisfaction, it hadn’t been enough. She’d left in the end to be the mistress of a wealthy knight. Merrick hadn’t pursued her, since he felt she deserved a "whole man."
Though he had never touched her, Merrick had answered any of Ally’s questions regarding the lover’s arts with frank detail. She knew that a man could achieve satisfaction without entry, though they were apt to whine like children for complete rights. If more women realized that, she was certain the world would be a better place.
Roland would want everything, but he might be satisfied with less for months. He’d view it as a great victory, never realizing that she was still in control. By the time he realized that she wouldn’t go farther, it would be too late.
But how to broach it? Hands clasped behind her, she slowly paced. Perhaps bluntness was best. Her lip curled at the ridiculousness of that. Perhaps I should just draw up a contract, she thought, disgusted with the situation. This wasn’t what she wanted.
Unfortunately, what she wanted was risky and would leave her trapped in an unwanted marriage. Roland was not a man who’d watch her ride off without interference. The only way they were going to part was if she held him off until the year’s end. Ironically, foreplay seemed the best way to do that. The trick would be making him think it was his idea.
She stopped and toed a mint plant with her boot, enjoying the sweet release of fragrance as she thought. Maybe she should be subtle. Dress nicely, display a little feminine softness. After all, the man was already primed. The least hint of softening on her part would attract him like lightning to a lone pine. Then when he pounced, she could lay some ground rules. It sounded like a good idea, and yet....
An image as he’d been earlier--primal, male--shook her resolve. Her temperature spiked. The plan was a good one, but was he a man who would play by her rules?
Chapter 13
Dinner was interesting. Though they had no guests, Ally was dressed in style in a Roman influenced robe of sparkling blue. The material was of thicker layers of silk than might be common in that country, but it still left one shoulder bare as it swirled around her curves. It had been intriguingly dyed with silver Celtic knot work. Combined with the silver ribbons woven through her temple braids, it made her look like a pagan princess.
Warmth spread through him that was due to more than the wine, and he stood to take her hand. "That’s an amazing dress, princess … and an even lovelier woman in it." He kissed her hand.
"Thank you, my lord." There was a touch of shyness and unusual warmth in her smile.
Caught off guard, Roland seated her and then retreated to his seat to study the stranger who had replaced his wife.
After a quiet thanks to the servant who poured her wine, Ally turned her attention to Roland. Stroking the fabric at her shoulder, she murmured, "The merchant who brings these robes to me has promised to find me a craftswoman skilled in the dying of this cloth. I’d like to invite at least one woman here to teach others. As I understand it, the process involves waxing the cloth one does not want dyed. It’s a very ver
satile garment, and comfortable. I think it would sell well for our villagers."
Our villagers. It was a telling statement, almost as provocative as the way she stroked her shoulder. He distrusted it on instinct. "I see. It’s nice to see you’re planning for the future--I’d hoped you’d come to see reason about our marriage." He waited for her guilty expression to stiffen into wariness. Whatever she was about, it wasn’t getting him to consummate their marriage. She was after something. Disappointment made anger rise, though he should have expected it.
She took a deep breath. "I’m trying to draw a truce here, Roland. You could oblige me."
He cocked a brow. "To what end?"
Her mouth opened, and her expression said what she was about to say would be pithy, but she shut it. An odd expression crossed her face, and she began to laugh silently at herself.
"What?"
"You." She pinched the bridge of her nose, her shoulders still shaking with quiet mirth. "I should have expected suspicion from you over a sudden cease fire."
"Hm. Does this mean that you’ll explain your motives?" He crossed his arms and regarded her expectantly.
She gifted him with a mysterious smile. "I think not. It’s good for a man to wonder."
She wanted something from him, but wasn’t going to tell him what. In spite of himself, he grew curious. "It’s not like you to be coy."
"It’s not like you to be obtuse," she countered as she sipped her wine. "I’m expecting my friend Rune any day now. I assume your brother Dante wrote you regarding her? She arranged to travel with him."
"Not very subtle of you to invite her when he is visiting. I hadn’t pegged you as the type to champion romance."
"She was happy with her knight and grieved his passing. I’d gladly help her in her quest for happiness if she thinks she’ll find it."
Roland studied her. "What would make you happy?"
She started to answer with her usual flippant reply, but something stopped her. Suddenly thoughtful, she gazed into space. "I would like a child. Someone I could trust to help me raise it would be a bonus." She blinked slowly at him, likely gauging his reaction.
While he didn’t know what prompted her confession, it had gotten his attention. Had he been a wolf, his ears would have been pricked. Instead of offering the answer that comment begged for, he adopted her thoughtful manner. "I see. Is this a dream you’ve had for a while?"
"For some time."
Her serious gaze didn’t waver, but there was something....
Why did he get the feeling she was beckoning him into deep waters in a leaky boat? He took a breath and picked up the mental oars. "I’ve also wanted children."
"A boy, no doubt."
"It wouldn’t matter. I’m not a green lad anymore who can’t appreciate the charms of baby girls. I think I would make a good father." He was gratified to see her perplexed expression. He’d bet his best horse that she’d never thought of him in terms of fatherhood. Would that she’d consider letting him sire her child.
Several moments of silence passed. He could almost see her chewing on his comments.
"Tell me something, Roland. Am I simply a bird in hand to you? You came to the point where you were ready to settle, and here was a wife conveniently waiting? Is that it?"
He had to smile. "Had I wanted convenient, I would have looked farther a field. I find myself desiring you. And before you finish that scowl, remember that you were a skinny child of fifteen when we were forced together. You might have had a passion for me, but I had a woman and barely knew you. Things are very different now."
He could tell she didn’t like that. If her expression got any more confounded, he might burst out laughing. Bluntness had its place, especially when it put Ally in hers.
At last she said, "And now I’m supposed to accept that you desire me madly and desperately wish to sire children on me?"
"Yes."
She snorted. "Very original, but men don’t see me in that light. Why should you be the first?"
"Isn’t that what you hoped to find?" he countered. "Would it be so incredible if the man of your dreams were embodied in your husband?"
"You’re not in my dreams. And yes, it would." But now she sounded sulky, as if arguing for argument’s sake. He was winning and she didn’t like it.
It was all he could do not to smirk. "I propose a small test, then. You wouldn’t buy a horse without trying its paces, so why don’t you check mine? I’ll promise to behave myself."
She eyed him. "What kind of test?"
"Kissing, for a start. It’s a harmless activity that will help you to figure out what you want. If you like it, we can proceed from there. Think of it as a courtship process."
"Kissing you is never harmless," she muttered.
"Thank you."
"Don’t let it go to your head. With so much at stake, I was bound to be affected in some way."
"Hm. Desire is a good way."
"I’m not ignorant in the ways of men and woman. I know that you can take and give pleasure without...."
"Without…," he prompted. This had to be fascinating.
She frowned. "Penetration."
"Ah. So that’s your plan." He had to admire her resolve. Not many women would have been so forthright. As a temporary measure, it wasn’t unappealing.
"Just so long as we understand that it doesn’t count as consummation."
Roland nodded thoughtfully. "As naughty as it gets, as wet and as naked, it won’t count as consummation unless I--"
"Quite." She shifted in her chair.
A wolfish smile curved his lips. Oh, she was asking for it. "Agreed. Of course, if you give in in the heat of the moment, who am I to tell you no?"
"Don’t hope for it," she said repressively, but she squirmed again.
He liked the squirming. If he had his say, she’d be doing more of it, and soon. She had no idea just how good a lover he could be. Educating her was going to be one of the highlights of his life.
Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t going to happen on her schedule. Now that he knew what she’d been up to with the dress and soft demeanor, he was going to make her sweat a little. No man liked to be manipulated, even if it did mean he’d get what he wanted.
* * * *
Shivering a little under his predatory smile, Ally turned her attention to the dessert she didn’t want and tried to ignore the sensation that she’d just unleashed a wolf. She was still amazed that he’d proposed the very thing she’d been thinking of. Either he was more devious than she’d thought, or their minds were so similar it was scary. The day she couldn’t out-scheme a man was the day she’d offer herself up naked for Roland to--she stifled that thought. No, this was happening according to her plan. Roland and his agenda wouldn’t make her lose track of who was in charge.
She sneaked a peek at Roland.
He winked.
His kiss that night before turning to his bed was no more than a peck. Shocked, since she’d spent most of the day planning how to hold off his heated advances, she stared at him as he casually stripped off his shirt. By all appearances he was headed straight to bed.
"Roland."
He turned at her peevish command. "Yes, my dear?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I am less than impressed."
Laughter so low it sounded like a purr rumbled in his chest. Slowly, he raised his hands and slicked his dark hair off his bare shoulders. That eye patch of his made him look like a bandit. "I thought we’d start slowly. You’ve been so hesitant until now that I didn’t want to scare you off." It was a subtle challenge.
Trying not to openly covet the feel of those broad planes of muscle under her palms, she said coolly, "The day I’m scared off by a man…," she trailed off as he sauntered closer, forgetting whatever she’d been about to say as her eyes riveted to his body.
"You were saying?" Their bodies only a whisper away, he raised his hand and slowly threaded it through her hair.
"Wasn’t important," she murmured, having al
ready forgotten. Chills buzzed down her body from his touch, spread with alarming intensity to other places. Her breath was coming faster now. He nuzzled her ear, which had become alarmingly sensitive.
She shivered.
When he moaned softly in her ear, she thought she’d die.
"Do you know what it’s like to climax, Ally?"
Distracted, she whispered, "Climax?"
"Reach your pleasure," he clarified. His hand stroked the back of her scalp, causing her knees to weaken. She put her arms on his shoulders and held on desperately.
"This is pleasurable."
"You don’t understand, do you?" It wasn’t a question. The hand at her nape moved downward, caressing her spine, the small of her back.
Such dizzying pleasure. "Do I … need to?" It was getting hard to think. Once his lips grazed hers she gave up on conversation. There was no blood left for it, as most of it had deserted her brain to heat up more interesting regions.
His mouth claimed hers, and she forgot to breathe. It was a hot taking, more exciting than riding a rogue horse after days of gentling. It was taming her, though how he’d known she’d needed it just this way....
"Ally?" he whispered against her lips.
"Hm?"
"If you don’t get your hand off my butt right now, I might just take you where you stand."
She broke free with a gasp and stared at him. The passion she saw there shook her. "I’m … sorry?" Didn’t men like that sort of thing? She hadn’t been thinking.
"Too much. If you’d kept kneading and grinding against me--," he broke off to swear and pace away. "This is not going to work if you go at it like a newly released convict."
Hearing accusation whether it was there or not, she turned her back on him. What did he want her to do, bury her passion?
He cursed and spun her around. "That wasn’t said to hurt you. I’m just having a hard time controlling what you make me feel." He drew a deep breath. "I haven’t been this hot since--," he cut himself off and stroked her arms. "Let’s wait. If you want me to keep my word to you, I need more time."
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