Blood Sword Legacy 02 - Master of Torment
Page 31
When Wulfson tossed her onto his bed, in what was now the new lord’s chamber, his gaze did not leave her. In a frenzy, he divested himself of his clothing and watched under the soft glow of candlelight the color rise in his wife’s cheeks. It occurred to him that she might be shy, with so much time since the last time they’d met as one.
Disappointment flooded him. “If you are not comfortable, Tarian—”
She rose from the bed like a silvery shadow and floated toward him. His body thrummed and his cock rose so swiftly it hurt. “I will not be comfortable, milord, until you fill me to capacity.”
She pressed her softness against his hardness and on her tiptoes she reached up and snaked her arms around his neck, bringing his lips down to hers. “Make love to me now, Wulfson. Make love to me all night long and into the morning. I have waited all my life for you.”
He gathered her up into his arms and gently he laid her upon the big bed. His heart burned so full and so hot with emotion that he did not trust his voice. When he spoke, his words were low and throaty. “Tarian Godwinson, you are the very air that I breathe. Promise me you will never cast me aside.”
She smiled and unhooked her girdle and cast it away, then untied and removed her deep-sapphire-and-white silk kirtle trimmed with ermine. When she removed the soft linen undertunic and her creamy, smooth skin and rose-tipped nipples popped into view, Wulfson could not contain his passion for her. He pulled her up to him and sank his teeth into the tender flesh. Her lithe body arched into his and he could not wait. In one swift motion he entered her and nearly died of pleasure.
“Wulfson,” she purred, “my heart is yours to possess, and with it I give you my oath: I am yours for eternity.”
And together they became one; and on that night the beginning of a legacy forged in the bowels of a Saracen prison was unleashed.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Karin Tabke
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