His Captive

by Diana J. Cosby

  “Make love with me, Alexander. Make me forget this day.” She pushed aside her linen shift until it, too, swirled to lay atop her robe. Naked, she stood before him, full breasts gleaming in the candlelight, the dark, auburn triangle at her apex tempting him into delightful insanity.

  His hand automatically reached for her, wanting to hold the weight of her breasts, touch the sweet softness that he would never tire of. As if burned, he turned away.

  “Alexander?”

  He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to lay her on his bed and drive deep within her body.

  Nichola’s hand touched his shoulder.

  He rounded on her. “I want you, but not this way.” Damn this entire situation. Alexander reached down and grabbed her gown and robe. He shoved them in her hands. “Put them on.”

  She stared at him with disbelief, her lips parted, slick with his kisses.

  Fighting to steady his warring emotions, he cupped his hands over hers. “As much as I want you, it will not be as a balm for a loss.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Is this what you think my reason is?”

  “Yes,” Alexander replied, speaking the single hardest word he’d ever said in his life. He wanted her, but if he took her now, he would use her sorrow to suit his own purpose. And he could never do that. Though he hadn’t always made the right decisions in life, he would here. “When we make love, you will do so with a clear mind.”

  “I know what I am—”

  “I can see your pain, the grief you wear like a badge. A grief you do not trust to share with me.” And that hurt the most. “Yet you ask for an intimacy as great. I may want you, but I will not take advantage of your vulnerability.”

  Nichola glared at Alexander, unsure if she felt more like a fool or humiliated. Damn him! He was wrong. True, the loss of her brother had left her devastated, but she loved Alexander and needed him as well. Couldn’t he see that? Would she be here offering herself to him if she felt otherwise?

  “If I wanted someone to take advantage of me,” she charged, “I could have found many willing men below.”

  His eyes narrowed to a dangerous edge.

  Good. If he was upset, more the better. They would be on equal ground. “Instead, I am here.” She softened her voice, needing him to understand. “It is you I want.” His skeptical gaze extinguished her desire. No, obviously he would never believe what she had to say this night.

  Her body burned where he’d touched her, ached where he had not. Resisting the urge to scream her frustration, she jerked on her chemise. The fabric tore at her rough handling, but she ignored it. Then she tossed on her robe.

  “You do not know what I am feeling.” But he would. Nichola stormed from the room. She’d thought when she went to apologize that she’d make a deranged part of her world right. Instead, it seemed she’d somehow misjudged that as well. Next time, he would have no doubts of her claim.

  And there would be a next time.

  On the practice field, Alexander lifted his blade. Sweat rolled down his face as he surged forward in his attack. His pent-up frustration over the past two days since Nichola had swept from his chamber backed the bite of his blade.

  Aye, she’d not kept from his sight as he would have wished. Instead, she seemed determined that wherever he turned, he’d see her. And he’d noted the undaunted determination on her face, and her desire.

  Except, he’d convinced himself that to take her now would be wrong. She only sought comfort. He swung his next blow with the force of his frustration.

  “Certes!” Duncan twisted to the side and barely evaded the blow. He took another step back in the training field and angled his blade to deflect Alexander’s next swing. “You are fighting like a milk-fed maid.”

  Alexander ignored his taunts, jibes his youngest brother used to sidetrack his focus. He thrust his sword forward then angled the blade to catch the hilt of his brother’s broadsword.

  Metal scraped. With a quick jerk, he cast Duncan’s weapon from his hands.

  Duncan’s stunned expression as he stood defenseless before him almost made Alexander laugh. Almost. If not torn between his loyalty toward the rebels and his need for Nichola, he would have enjoyed the moment. Instead, Alexander sheathed his sword, his heart aching.

  “I have had enough for the day.” Alexander ignored Duncan’s curiosity at his curt comment, and Patrik and Seathan’s concerned stares as they stood nearby. Let them think what they’d like. With the runner sent back to Rothfield Castle to collect the ransom demand for Nichola, he’d been given but a few days reprieve from her inevitable departure. And the money would come of that he had no doubt.

  Then she would leave.

  He turned to find Nichola waiting on the boundaries of the practice field. God’s teeth, did the lass have a wish to drive him insane? Mayhap he should leave her barred within her chamber? It would serve them both well. But when she’d asked him to allow her to accompany him to his practice, he’d agreed.

  Alexander strode to her.

  “Congratulations, you fought well.” She lifted the goblet to him. Late-morning sun glittered off of the bloodred wine.

  Their eyes clashed. He remembered when he’d first envisioned the pleasure of her doing such a task. Now her gesture brought only regret.

  “My thanks.” He downed the wine in one gulp and tried to ignore her watching him drink, every swallow forced. He handed her back the empty goblet, welcoming the sharp bite of the spiced wine down his throat. “I will return you back to your chamber. I doubt you want to remain outside.”

  And he wished her to be removed from his view. With his body aching with a need to touch her, remembering her woman’s taste warm upon his tongue and the softness of her skin, he needn’t linger. With her watching him with blatant desire, ’twould be too easy to forget his reasons for leaving her untouched.

  To his relief, she nodded. He ignored Patrik’s displeasure as he walked with her. In silence they made their way through the floor of the keep, up the curved steps, until they reached the tower chamber. He opened the door and stepped aside to allow her to enter.

  Instead of walking past, she turned to him. “I would ask you to stay.”

  Her throaty whisper ripped through him, the desire in her eyes destroying him further. God’s teeth, he’d kept his hands off her the last two days. It had not been easy, and he was far from a saint. Couldn’t she see that he was tired? That he wanted her? That what she was asking of him never could be? Once the passion between them faded, he would always be a reminder of her brother’s death.

  She reached out to touch him. “Alexander?”

  “Do not,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Instead, Nichola stepped closer, alluring, stubborn, everything he wanted in a woman, and more. “You said you wanted me.”

  His blood heated, but he remained still. She continued to hurt over the loss of her brother.

  She laid her palm against the side of his cheek, trailing down to his mouth. Her index finger swept across his lips. “What if I told you that I loved you?”

  The thrill of her words rushed through him a split second before the panic. He caught her hand and drew it away. “You do not need—”

  “I need you,” she said. “You have kept yourself at a distance. Now you toss my words of love back as if they were easily given.” She stepped closer and pressed her body flush against his. “Damn you, Alexander, I love you and need you as well.” She jerked her hand free and stepped back. “But I will not beg. If you do not want me, tell me now.”

  He stood there with his heart in his throat, wanting her with his every breath.

  Gray eyes glinted with determination. “Tell me!”

  And at this moment, with his feelings for her running deeper than he’d ever meant them to, he could deny her nothing. But in all honesty, he would give her this one last chance.

  “My taking you with your heart still fragile from your brother’s death would not be fair.”

  “Fair?” Sh
e stiffened. “At what moment does life decide to be impartial?”

  “I only meant to spare you more pain.”

  She laid her hand over her heart. “The pain is here,” she whispered. “There is naught more you can do.”

  “I am sorry for that.”

  Nichola dropped her hand to her side. “I know. But it is you I need, do you not understand? Make love with me, Alexander. Hold me as if you never mean to let me go.” When he hesitated, wanting her with his every breath, she shook her head. “I will not ask again. If you will not accept what it is that I am asking, what I am offering, then I am a lackwit to beg. And Mary help me, never will a man play me for a fool again.”

  With her heart-felt request, his every good intent to leave her untouched eroded. Taking her hand in his, he led her into her chamber and shut the door.

  He turned her toward him. “What you make me feel, want . . .” He stroked his fingers through her silken hair as the full impact of his passion flowed through him. “I promise you, that what I will make you feel will only be good.”

  “I am not afraid. Touch me, Alexander. I need to feel you against me. In me.”

  On a groan he took her mouth, hot and hard, her immediate response making him harder. As the late-afternoon sun poured through the window like a river of gold, her taste swept through him, seeping through every pore until there was only him, only her. He promised himself, in this decision she would never find regret.

  Nichola tumbled into his seductive heat, drowning in sensation, shaken by the tenderness of his touch, of how he could savor and ravage her mouth so completely. Alexander’s hands skimmed along the sensitive curve of her nape, slow, wondrous circles that stole her every thought. She gasped at the sensations, at the sheer impact of the feelings that rushed through her.

  The warmth of his breath feathered across her neck as he trailed kisses along the slender column. “I am going to make love with you in the ways I have always dreamt.”

  He discarded the chain belt around her waist; it clinked on the floor, forgotten. Then he nibbled across her lower lip, sliding his tongue to meet hers as his fingers loosened her gown.

  Anxious for his touch, she reached up to help him.

  He caught her fingers, his own cupping them in a gentle embrace. “No,” he said with infinite tenderness. “Our first time, allow me.” He released her. Alexander’s gaze held hers as he untied the final draw, then slid her gown from her shoulders. He pushed away her chemise to leave her naked before him.

  She shuddered, but it wasn’t from the cold. As his eyes trailed down her, the heat that churned in them left her with no doubt of his desire. Hot. Wanting. Intense.

  “You are beautiful.” He clasped his hands behind her neck and drew her to him. With devastating reverence, he lowered his mouth upon hers. “Your love is the greatest gift a man could ever ask for.”

  He lifted her in his arms and crossed the room. Gently, he lay her upon her bed. Then he kissed her, not with the fierceness she’d expected, but with a gentleness she couldn’t have imagined, until her mind spun and she could do naught but give.

  When she thought she couldn’t feel more, his fingers began their erotic exploration, skimming down her arms, caressing the soft dips and angles of her skin. Then he linked his fingers with hers and drew her hands up to his mouth. He kissed each fingertip, before pressing his lips against each palm, his tongue swirling along the sensitive center.

  A tremor stole through her body as he kissed along the curved base. Then he took her index finger into his mouth and gently sucked.

  “Alexander, I . . .” She moaned.

  He released her finger to kiss the tip. “You are an amazing woman. Never doubt that.”

  She shook her head, emotion choking her. “Never.”

  He smiled and laid her hands back over her head in a gentle hold. He feathered kisses against her neck as he slowly moved down her body, his tongue and teeth never giving her leave. He laved the curves of her breast, tasting, touching, teasing until she cried out from the sheer pleasure of it.

  Then he claimed her nipple with his mouth and feasted. Waves of emotion streaked through her over and again. She twisted, arched, but the pressure continued to build inside her. A shudder ripped through her. Then another.

  “Alexander!”

  He murmured his satisfaction as he continued his sweet torture, his tongue relentless in its task. As she gasped for control, his hand moved down to cup her womanhood. Nichola soared higher.

  “Open for me,” he whispered as he again drew the tip of her breast into his mouth.

  Without hesitation, she complied.

  His finger slid into her slick warmth. Her mind exploded with sensations. Lost to the dizzying rush, to the sense of speeding up an emotional cliff on a desperate race, she gave him everything he asked for and more.

  As he continued to stroke her, Nichola opened for him like rose petals spreading out to capture the sun. Alexander watched her body melt beneath his every touch, her mews of pleasure driving his own need to a frenzied height. He held back. This time, her first time, would be for her.

  Her body began to convulse. “Alexander!”

  And with her every gasp tangled with sheer pleasure, he watched as she tumbled over the edge. Her body trembling, lost in the fervent trembles of release, she sagged against him. He pressed soft kisses over her face and wished for forever with her.

  Stunned by the thought, he steadied himself. It was a foolish wish, that of an innocent lad, that of a man whose focus was on more than war.

  She stared up at him with guileless fascination. “I never knew it could be so beautiful.”

  He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, shaken by the feelings she invoked, and by the sincerity of his wish to keep her here. “There is so much more that I want to show you, to teach you.”

  Sadness clouded in her eyes. “There will not be time—”

  Alexander pressed a finger over her lips. “For now, what we feel, give one another, is all that matters.”

  “But what of—”

  “Trust me.” Even as he said the words, what exactly was he promising? Or could offer? Already the messenger demanding her ransom was en route to Rothfield Castle. Once the money was received, if asked again, would she stay and be his wife? If she agreed, with him riding to attack English soldiers—her own people—if anything should happen to him, would he want her on Scottish soil?

  Then she nodded, the trust in her gaze pressing him to follow through. Yes, they would talk, but not with her body warm from her release, they would not pursue the topic further this night. They would discuss any decisions as to their future tomorrow.

  She shivered. Then as if remembering her nakedness, in the dimming light, a blush fell over her face.

  “No.” Alexander caught her hand when she made to cover herself. “Never be embarrassed. You are beautiful.”

  “You truly think so?”

  He saw the doubt. God’s teeth. She didn’t even know of her own beauty. It would seem she’d humble him on every level. “Aye.”

  Pleasure wove through her eyes. “I wish to see you as well.”

  He took her hands in his and brought them down against the flat of his stomach and wished her hands lower. “I would be liking that.”

  She hesitated.

  He arched a brow, intrigued she would choose this moment to show reluctance. “You are not a coward now are you?” At his light teasing, she bristled with the spirit he loved so well.

  She lifted her chin. With nervous but determined movements, she caught the edge of his tunic and lifted it over his head.

  “You are not helping?” she said as she dropped the finely woven linen to the floor.

  He laughed. “Is the lady who bashed me over the head with a limb asking for assistance?” he asked, positive his concept of aid and hers were far from the same.

  A smile tugged at her mouth. “You would enjoy this.”

  “Every moment.” He chuckled. Before
she had an idea as to his erotic siege, he knelt before her, cupped her womanhood in his hands, and drew her to his mouth for the sweetest kiss.

  “Mary’s will!” She tried to squirm back. “Alexander . . . I . . .”

  His only reply was to curve one hand around to the small of her back and press his advantage while he slid the finger from his other hand into her slick heat.

  On a moan, her hands caught his shoulders as her body trembled against him, but he persevered, flicking his tongue along the silken folds to taste her essence, loving her untrained response, pure and needy—for him.

  Her movements became frantic. Now when he slid his finger into her heat again, she arched to meet his every stroke; then he released her. At her expression of wanton disbelief, he smiled.

  With his eyes on her and his body throbbing to be inside her, he stood. Slowly, watching her, he removed the remainder of his garments.

  Standing there still trembling from his intimate touch, Nichola watched him disrobe until the evidence of his desire jutted proudly before her. She glanced up nervously at him.

  “You are . . .” Mary’s will, he would break her apart.

  “You are ready for me,” he said, his voice far more convinced than she felt. “It will hurt only the first time. After that, you will experience only pleasure.”

  She had her own doubts. How could he believe she could take his entire length inside her? “This is not going to work.”

  His eyes lit with intrigue, then laughter. “It is a challenge you are making it, lass.” He swept her up in his arms, his rippling muscles against her doing little to ease her fears. He gently laid her on the bed.

  She frowned, but caught her breath as he gently parted her legs wider. His hot gaze devoured her as he skimmed his fingers up her thigh.

  “I am not a challenge,” she said between gasps.

  “Aye, on every level. And you are a gift, Nichola, one I will always cherish.” Then he slid his finger inside.

  And she soared. She’d thought that after the last time she couldn’t feel anymore, but under his skilled hands her nerves fled. On his next stroke, her doubts diminished in a blazing inferno.