by Joanne Rock
Then, the momentum of their passion shoved her over the edge, catapulting her into a sea of dark and heady sensations. Her body convulsed with wave after wave of luscious pleasure. The tide carried her deep into the bliss she’d been seeking, only the feeling was like nothing she could have imagined. The carnal joy of it blinded her, blocking out everything except the sensations causing a fiery riot within.
Hugh held her through it all, his body the rock she clung to while passion had its way with her. His legs tangled with hers, his arms wrapping around her to anchor her tight. It took a long while for her to catch her breath, but when she did, she did not hesitate to urge him on. She knew he had not reached the amazing heights that she had. While ending their tryst now might leave her both satiated and safe from the consequences of further intimacy, she would not repay this man’s generous tutoring by sending him away frustrated.
For that matter, she would not risk sending him into another woman’s arms to assuage his hunger.
“I am well pleased,” she whispered in his ear, stroking her fingers through his dark hair then edging lower to caress his shoulders. His back. His hips. “But until I benefit from all that hard strength you spoke of earlier, I do not believe we are finished.”
Chapter Thirteen
No man’s loyalties should be so divided.
Eamon did not care greatly about the Irish king or the Norman knight who wanted him to steal Princess Sorcha’s child. But he cared very much about choosing the path that would win him the most gold. The most envy of his peers. And right now, with the king holding his new weaponry for him and new orders from the Norman knight that instructed him to bring the little boy into the woods with all haste, Eamon could not decide which task to take on first.
The king was notoriously fickle and impatient.
The Norman was notoriously dangerous.
Turning his horse back in the direction of the cottage, Eamon prayed he could accomplish both duties without either party being the wiser. With gold from Bartlett and du Bois, plus a horse and the trappings of a knight from Connacht, Eamon would be dining in the great hall and swiving every wench from dairy maid to lord’s daughter in no time.
Urging his mount faster, he knew the time was opportune. The boy’s nurse had panted after him like a bitch in heat. She would be easily managed. As long as the princess and her new protector were otherwise occupied, he could meet Bartlett at his encampment and still reach the king’s keep by nightfall.
“Eamon!”
A feminine cry echoed through the forest. Only, the sound did not come from in front of him where the cottage sat. No, this call came from somewhere behind him.
Reining in, he turned. Perplexed.
He was far from the king’s courtyard. Far from the road. He did not expect to encounter anyone save the occasional outlaw or beggar. Neither of which should know his name.
“Here!” The sound was closer this time, the voice mingling with the pound of hoofbeats through the woods.
He recognized the sweet tone of the lady’s voice at the same moment he recognized the complete lack of caution. The innocence blossoming into feminine wile.
Considering all he needed to accomplish this afternoon, she was also quite possibly his worst nightmare.
“Lady Onora.” Slapping the reins lightly, he walked to meet her as she slowed her palfrey to a trot. “Where is your escort?”
He did his best to appear disapproving, but in truth, he could not help but admire the lady’s boldness even as he acknowledged her foolhardiness. She was utterly vulnerable to any unsavory types in the forest. Thieves and outlaws. Ambitious grooms whose needs for willing female flesh had been thwarted by Hugh Fitz Henry.
Eamon ground his teeth just thinking about how close he’d come to burying himself between the plump thighs of the wet nurse.
“I cannot stay long.” Onora peered over her shoulder. “I thought you might escort me back to the keep since, as I understood it, you were on your way to see us anyway.”
A secretive smile graced her features, lighting up her lovely face. She had always held him at arm’s length before, burying her obvious interest in him as a man beneath the cool disdain of her lofty position. But something seemed to have shifted in her attitude today. Some restraint had been lifted.
“It would be an honor—” except that he needed to kidnap her nephew “—except that I must return to the cottage first. I do not know how soon I will be able to depart for your father’s lands.”
She peered around the wood as if taking stock of her place in it. Her dark hair had fallen free of some of the plaits holding it back and her circlet was askew. She was more than passing fair; her creamy skin and wide, blue eyes were often heralded by troubadours and lovesick squires. Any man would hasten to do her bidding. Except for him. Except for today.
“We are not far. I will come with you and see my sister before we head back.” She smiled prettily, seemingly unconcerned with her disheveled appearance from what must have been a hard ride through the woods. “Perhaps you have not heard what good news awaits you.”
Her coy glances were not the practiced flirtation he was accustomed to, but that did not dim her appeal in the least. The fact that she would pay attention to him reminded him of the pleasures that would be his if only he could appease two competing masters.
Unfortunately, her timing could not have been worse. Stealing away Sorcha’s brat would have to wait.
“I have received all the good news I can hope for in meeting a lovely lady in the forest.” He rode closer, holding his hand out to her to see what she would do.
Was the younger sister as passionate as the elder? Perhaps he wouldn’t have long to wait to find out.
She stared at his hand for a long moment, biting her lip with sweet indecision. Then, at last, she extended her fingers, allowing him to kiss the back of her knuckles in a courtier’s greeting. He kept it short, unwilling to rush this newest conquest that could turn out to be the biggest prize of any he’d sought yet.
Because if he was able to bed the king’s daughter, he wouldn’t think about faking his death to escape the consequences the way the Norman knight had. Nay, Eamon would hold out both hands and let the king rain a small fortune on his head to wed the eager maid.
“I pay no attention to your idle flattery, Eamon,” Onora chided. “We meet each other in this wood often enough when I leave gifts for my sister. I bring tidings that offer much better news than my presence.”
She tossed her head and withdrew her hand from his, but he could see his compliment did not leave her cold. He rode as close to her as he dared on the path back to the king’s stronghold, his thigh grazing hers for an instant as they squeezed between two fat hawthorn trees.
“I find that hard to believe,” he lied, entertaining himself by pulling off her garments in his mind.
Saints above, perhaps he had been setting his sights too low all this time. What if Onora Con Connacht was within his reach? Eamon would be the king’s son-in-law. For that matter, if Eamon helped kidnap Sorcha’s child, one day perhaps Eamon’s own son would be in line for a kingdom.
A fortune. A powerful future.
“But it’s true,” she argued, peering at him over her shoulder. “My father has asked me to work on a banner bearing his colors for you.”
Her lush figure swayed enticingly as her horse picked its way through the dense forest. Somewhere in the trees, Bartlett awaited Eamon’s arrival with the boy. He hoped the fat clerk saw him riding with Onora to give him an idea that he was not some lowly groom to order about anymore. He was well on his way to bigger dreams than mere knighthood. By seducing a princess, he would gain untold power. Lands.
And a future no mere groom could have ever imagined for himself.
Sweat trickled down Hugh’s back as he lay, legs twined, with the most tempting woman imaginable.
He had been entrusted with her protection, but somehow he had allowed his ruse of courting her to spill over into his true
feelings. And he didn’t have a prayer of calling back those emotions now. Not when she had just offered him sweet release after holding back to give her the pleasure that must have eluded her with her first lover. She gazed at him now with a mixture of wonder and determination in her green eyes.
“I can walk away now,” he assured her, hoping and praying that was the case even though the thought of ending this interlude struck a blow more vicious than the one he’d endured in the dreams of his past. “I would not be responsible for more years of exile, Sorcha. Not every man is so selfish.” Although, by the saints, he wouldn’t mind being selfish once in a while.
Now.
“Nay.” She shook her head, eyes glittering with the knowing of Eve. “I have learned how to prevent more children. You have merely to—”
“I recall.” He wondered for a moment how he remembered, but then decided to trust his knowledge. “There are some things—like wielding a blade or riding a horse—that come naturally to me, even if I do not recall how I know them.” He saved her from having to share her wisdom since he wasn’t sure he could listen to any more explicit talk of withdrawal without making this a lot harder on himself. “But are you certain?”
He stroked a silky strand of the long, auburn hair snaking down her shoulder to spill over the grass. She smelled like roses and herbs and springtime, her skin as sweetly fragrant as the garden all around them. Sunlight splashed along her fair skin, highlighting faint freckles he would have never seen otherwise. How many other mysteries lurked inside this strong woman who hid her vulnerabilities so well?
“I want you, Hugh.” Her hands stirred on his hips, caressing his flesh with the lightest of touches. “By any name, you are the noblest man who has ever attempted to court me, even if you are unsure why you sought me out.”
He wanted to be honest with her. He would be honest with her if not for the restraints her father had placed upon him. Still, he would explain himself to her if only she would reveal the rest of her secrets. Why she had seemed to recognize him that first day.
“Perhaps I sensed a connection between us that goes deeper than either of us have guessed.” His body pulsated again, aching with need, tired of holding back.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her and he didn’t stand a chance of walking away now. Maybe sharing this with her would allow him to see past her defenses, to understand the woman beneath.
Tilting her chin, he aligned her mouth with his. Her breath came fast, her desire still hot even after he’d taken the edge off for her. And wasn’t that a rich reward for a man? Sorcha was not merely seeking superficial thrills. She wanted to explore the heat between them as fully as he did.
“Perhaps we are not connected enough,” she teased, reaching around to stroke his shaft with the most tentative of caresses.
Just like that, she burned away all doubts and reservations. They were destined for this moment. This union. He’d known it deep within himself from the first time he’d seen her.
“You are a temptress and a sage, Princess.” He closed his eyes against a wave of heat that threatened to pull him under at just that one, small caress. “But you must be cautious with a man who has never lain with a woman before, lest you spoil the fun unwittingly.”
Her eyes went wide and he could tell he’d surprised her despite her need to tout her experience. Clearly, she had not spent days abed with the man who’d tricked her into marriage or else she would have known whereof he spoke.
Instead, she blushed the prettiest shade of pink, her cheeks matching the pale blossoms floating down from the trees nearby.
“Then show me,” she said softly, her fingers halting their dangerous glide along his sex.
Grinding his teeth against the pleasure, he wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her up and down his shaft with mind-numbing pressure. He stifled a groan at the feel of her cool, tender skin all around him, her eyes watching him intently.
Every man should be blessed with a second “first time” with a woman. Hugh knew without question his experience with Sorcha would outshine any awkward fumbling on some maid’s pallet that had come before this.
“You are so hot,” she marveled, amazement in her voice. “How would you taste with wine? I wonder.”
His eyes flew to hers and he found her peering down at him with an utterly serious expression, as if she would actually commit such an act. His body jerked in her hands, eliciting a girlish squeal that reminded him she had no business attempting such tricks when she had so little experience in pleasure herself.
“You would likely get more than you bargained for,” he growled, tugging her hands free before he lost what restraint he had left.
Sealing his mouth to hers, he kissed her, silencing any further ideas she had. Her words were as powerful as her delicate touches and he could bear no more. Lightly, he imprisoned her wrists to either side of her head, pinning her to the soft grass while he aligned their hips.
She sighed into his mouth and he caught her tender cries, tasting her pleasure as she shifted restlessly against him. Her thighs teased him, clamping lightly against him until he released her wrists to gently part her legs. She broke the kiss to fix him with her gaze.
“It hurt other times,” she confessed in a breathless rush. “I don’t want—don’t let anything ruin this.”
He wondered if she had any idea what she’d entrusted him with. Ah, curse the man who had treated her with so little care. Even Hugh, for all that he had no recollection of being with any one particular woman, maintained a keen grasp of how to proceed gently with a woman. He knew her pleasure came first if a man hoped to increase his own.
That understanding seemed as basic as breathing, although, heaven help him, he wished he could recall when and where he had acquired such knowledge. Still, he would not mind making all new memories with Sorcha. The thought teased him with enticing possibilities.
“Never,” he promised, slowing himself down enough to touch the slick flesh between her legs. He tweaked the swollen folds, playing there for a long moment before he slipped a finger inside.
She arched her back to grind her hips against him, assuring him she was more than ready.
“Hold on to me.” He wrapped her arms around him, needing her close, wanting to feel every hesitation, every slight nudge and roll of her hips to understand what pleased her best. “Don’t let go.”
He felt more than saw her nod. Her head was tucked up against his chest, her cheek pressed tight to him. Holding her hips still, he steadied himself, wanting her to feel only pleasure.
“I’ve got you,” he crooned in her ear, finally allowing himself to edge his way inside her.
She was wet. Snug. Perfect. He fought the urge to bury himself deep and fast like an untried youth, to explore every secret inch of her until release rocked him. But he hadn’t waited this long to wreck the moment now. He would not hurt her the way another man had.
Sweat streamed down his back now, the slow trickle turned to a hot rivulet as his heart thrummed him like an ax against a shield.
“Hugh.” She breathed his name against his skin, a warm and damp invocation. “More.”
Even knowing it might be too soon, Hugh could not help but answer her call. With a groan, he pushed himself deeper, surrounded himself with her sweet feminine flesh. His forehead fell and he rolled onto his back, keeping her tight against him as he brought her with him. He wanted to relinquish control. To allow Sorcha to take her fill as she learned what pleased her best.
But then he recalled his need to pull out before the end and he rolled them right back. He had no choice but to maintain control. By the saints, he owed that to her.
For her part, Sorcha panted and squirmed. Her mouth came alive against his neck as she kissed and licked him, teasing her tongue over his throat.
“You are a treasure.” He realized that even if he never received the reward her father had promised him, it was enough to have this time with this amazing woman.
He would find so
me other way to finance his return to knighthood. He would deceive Sorcha no longer.
The need for her crawled like a fever up his back, and his hips moved faster. Each thrust brought him new pleasure, each withdrawal a unique pain. He wanted her to remember this moment, remember him forever. Even if he never recovered his past, he wanted this one woman to feel as if she had known him in full measure. He would hold nothing back.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered, her fingers losing their grip on his shoulders as he accelerated his pace and then slowed it again. “I have never felt—”
He did not know what she’d been about to say, but whatever it had been, he was certain he understood. Desire swamped him. Pummeled him. Demanded release.
Her body spasmed around him, squeezing tight with her fulfillment. And although he would have given anything to experience that pleasure in full measure, he had no choice but to pull out.
To let his release spill harmlessly into the grass.
He mourned the loss of her all around him, the chance to share something monumental. He could not even catch his breath as he rolled her to one side and held her in his arms.
Felt her heartbeat. Inhaled the rose-tinged scent of her, mingled with …
Smoke?
Shoving up to his elbows, Hugh scanned the horizon, through the trees and bushes, he could already see the source of the smoldering scent.
Flames shot out the cottage windows.
Chapter Fourteen
Sorcha didn’t recall rising, but a moment later, she flew across the garden with Hugh sprinting ahead.
Her bare feet hardly registered the rocks and thorny branches she trampled along the way. All her attention fixed on the corner of the cottage where Conn would have been napping. As she dragged her surcoat up to cover herself, she noticed the thick gray smoke hissing out a small window of the stone-and-timber lodging. The wind blew away from them, no doubt carrying the earliest warnings of the fire on a breeze in the other direction.