by Shari Anton
The rake of nails against scalp felt wonderful. A wash would feel better still. If she could collect rainwater—but she had no bucket or even mug to collect it in. ’Twas amazing how many ordinary things one didn’t miss until one had to get by without them, and how annoyed one could become by the deprivation.
Complaining would do her no good. Rhodri couldn’t provide a means to collect water. But he’d said after they crossed the Avon the risk of capture would lessen, so they might risk staying at an inn soon. Which meant she might bathe, and wash her hair, and borrow a comb.
That pleasant possibility in mind, she again shook her head hard and slid spread fingers through her unruly, damp mane. It would dry faster if she stood by the fire, if Rhodri would allow her to come out of the shelter.
She looked up, intending to make the request. His expression stopped her.
He’d been watching her tend her hair, and her womanly instincts understood his preference that she should continue.
Mon dieu, could a man be seduced by so simple an action? Nicole had no notion, having never before made the attempt.
So she again ran her fingers through her long locks, from scalp to tips, spreading her arms wide to reach the ends, holding him enthralled, as if she were a woodland sprite, silently beckoning him to join her in a lusty pagan ritual.
A low rumble of thunder snapped the delicious fantasy and spurred Rhodri into a frenzy of gathering boots, garments, and the other blanket.
He ducked low to enter the shelter and dumped the blanket and garments into her lap while he arranged their hose-stuffed boots in the far corner. Miffed by nature’s intrusion, disgruntled by the sharp return to reality, Nicole swept her hair to the side and began folding the garments.
The linen chemise was nearly dry. She should probably put it on and give Rhodri’s tunic back to him. But unwilling to give up the tunic’s warmth and Rhodri’s scent, she placed the chemise atop the sack, followed by her not-quite-as-dry gown.
He bumped her shoulder twice while settling his large body across the back of the shelter, his knees bent because he couldn’t stretch out fully, his bare feet behind her rump.
The rain began to fall, hissing into the fire’s flames, pattering softly on the ferns.
Rhodri rolled his shoulders, setting muscles to rippling and her insides to fluttering. “Good time to catch up on our sleep,” he muttered before closing his eyes.
She didn’t want to sleep and suspected Rhodri didn’t truly want to, either. Confident the bulge in his breeches bespoke his true yearnings, Nicole laid aside the blanket and, still cross-legged, scooted around to face him.
Rhodri’s eyes remained closed, but he was awake and surely as aware of her as she of him. His glorious body tempted her beyond endurance. The memory of his kisses urged her to solicit another kiss—and more.
And the man was being obstinate. She wanted to shake him into taking the lead, have him kiss her senseless so she wouldn’t be pestered by all the righteous, sensible reasons she should leave him alone.
Aye, there might be penalties aplenty for losing her virginity in this woodland shelter, but for desire of Rhodri, every one of those reasons seemed trifling or endurable.
Audaciously, she placed a hand on his stomach, and to her delight, his muscles twitched beneath her touch and his breath hitched. The response delighted her, but she couldn’t voice her spiraling need outright.
“Your breeches are still damp. You should take them off.”
His eyes opened, narrowly. “That would not be wise.”
Probably not, but she couldn’t allow wisdom to intrude.
“You considered it wise for me to change out of my wet gown. The same should hold true for you.”
He was silent for a moment before saying, “For your first time, you deserve better than a tumble—” he glanced around at the shelter “—here.”
In the sturdy, cozy shelter he’d built, both of them already half naked, and no one about to disturb them—Nicole could think of no better place or time.
“Better in here than out there in the mud.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement, and his long-fingered hand, rough with the calluses of a warrior, gently caressed her cheek, eliciting another wave of passion to surge through her.
“Better than in the mud, but not as nice as a thick mattress.”
Nicole leaned into his touch, so welcome and thrilling against her skin. Right now, if he ordered her outside into the mud, she’d comply.
Near breathless with need, she suggested, “Perhaps next time.”
With an agility and speed Nicole didn’t question, Rhodri swept her up to lie angled atop him. He hadn’t removed his breeches, or she his tunic, but as Rhodri claimed her mouth in a most gratifying kiss, Nicole didn’t doubt that soon they’d be skin to skin, male to female.
At long last, Rhodri would become her lover.
Chapter Twelve
With Nicole’s lips pressed against his, her persuasive body seeking better purchase against his chest, Rhodri knew resistance was futile. His good intentions couldn’t compete against his own desire for Nicole and the woman’s inexperienced but effective seduction.
And sweet mercy, he admired her for far more than her delectable body.
Her earthy sense of humor charmed and amused him, more now that she was grown.
Any other noblewoman would have long ago foresworn this ill-favored journey, despairing of the hardships. Not Nicole, who’d forged through the brambles, climbed over logs, even forded a river though frightened to her core.
And her nature was to think things through before acting—when hailing down the farmer for a ride in his cart, or even when creating a diversion for him at the river.
Nicole’s placing a hand on his stomach and reaching out for him hadn’t been a whim. She knew she might suffer consequences if they became lovers but had decided the price wasn’t high enough to deny them the pleasure they both craved.
Rhodri indulged his earlier wish to play with a lock of her unbound hair. Had Nicole known, when she’d unwound the braid and shook her head, setting the glorious tresses loose to tumble around her in a sensual veil, how much she’d tempted him? Aroused him? Perhaps, but likely not.
The gift of her virginity wasn’t to be taken lightly, and he would honor her boldness and bravery with passionate gentleness and ensure she reached ecstasy.
With that worthy and admittedly selfish goal in mind, Rhodri aided her effort to fully sprawl atop him, her weight welcome, his tunic an irritating barrier between her skin and his. His hands slid down her sleek sides and grabbed fistfuls of tunic, pulling it up until his palms cupped the cheeks of her tight, enticingly curved buttocks, eliciting a startled but not fearful gasp.
Gently, slowly.
The reminder of her inexperience kept him from squeezing her backside too hard, until Nicole’s eyes went dark with intense passion and she kissed him fiercely, firing his loins, damn near obliterating all thought but one—of burying his cock deep within Nicole and never retreating.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. What remained of those senses tuned toward their survival noted that the worst of the storm would pass far to the north, that he need not be concerned that either wind or rain would wreak havoc with their meager shelter.
A good thing, because Nicole was wreaking havoc within.
Her thighs now straddled his right leg. He wished to heaven he’d removed his breeches, eager for skin to rub against skin. But then, anticipation was one of the delights of coupling with a woman, and with this woman he intended to prolong the enjoyment to fullest measure.
And ensure Nicole enjoyed their coupling to full measure, too, giving her no reason for complaint afterward.
So, for now, his breeches must stay on, but by the saints, his damn tunic did not. He pushed the rough fabric upward, over the dip of her trim waist. His thumbs grazed along the lowest of her ribs, and with no prodding at all, Nicole braced on his shoulders and eased upward
a few inches, allowing him to grasp her breasts.
The soft but firm mounds filled his hands, the nubs hard against his palms. She moaned low in her throat, a sultry approval of his sensual petting and of the particular attention he paid to the sensitive tips no other man had been granted the esteemed privilege to touch.
The honor both humbled him and urged him onward, the wish to see as well as feel now an overpowering need.
“Sit up,” he commanded in a feral growl that Nicole obeyed immediately.
She leaned back against his upraised knee, her own knee pressing in hard against his balls. He hissed at the splendid intimacy, swept the offensive tunic over her head, and beheld Nicole in her naked glory.
Skin the hue of cream. High, proud breasts, the tips a dark rose. The thatch of curls at the juncture of her thighs matched the red-tinged brown of her lovely tresses.
“Magnificent,” he whispered.
She blushed, coloring not only her cheeks but her throat and upper chest, as well. Though self-conscious of her bared body, she neither argued with his praise nor sought to shield herself from his view.
Nor was she willing to sit quietly and allow him to admire her beauty overlong. She hooked a finger under the waist of his breeches, knuckling his navel.
“You next,” she ordered.
He didn’t dare remove his breeches yet. “Soon, after you are prepared to receive me.”
She tilted her head, her confusion sincere. “What more is there than the joining?”
Apparently Nicole knew no more about coupling with a man than what transpired at the end. He could unleash his cock, pierce her maidenhead, take his pleasure, and she’d be none the wiser.
“Much more. Kissing. Touching. Fondling. All make the joining easier and more memorable.”
She smiled at that. “I enjoyed the kissing part.”
“Then come down here for another.”
Flesh pressed to flesh. Her mouth tasted of apple dipped in honey. He collected kiss after kiss, until her lips swelled from his tender abuse. Until her soft moans demanded he further prove his statement.
Rhodri eased them onto their sides, their legs entwined thigh to thigh, and worshiped her breasts with reverent caresses and primitive suckling. Nicole squirmed when he lavished attention on both, licking at one and petting the other.
“I believe I… like that… too. Are we not yet… done preparing?”
Her thready breaths thrilled him. The rapid beat of her heart echoed his own. Her ardor was nearly his undoing, but he couldn’t yet allow his passion free rein.
“Nearly.” He abandoned those sweet breasts to glide a hand along her silken skin, down over the curve of her hip, and up her sensitive inner thighs before ruffling the curls at her entrance.
Her lower body arched at the intrusion of a single finger into her hot, wet sheath. He stroked her slowly, mimicking the coupling soon to come.
She writhed and thrashed. He was losing any sense of control while marveling at Nicole’s uninhibited response, aware that when she reached ecstasy, she would pulse hard—and he wanted to be within her, to feel her inner muscles grasp and release his cock when she came undone.
Rhodri rose up to his knees and pulled loose his breeches’ lacing. Nicole’s eyes were wide with anticipation of his unveiling, staring at his crotch so intently it gave him pause.
He hadn’t disappointed a woman yet, had been told often enough that his cock and balls were huge, and well formed, and never failed to please. So why, with Nicole, did he spare a moment’s worry over her reaction to his male parts?
She’d never coupled with a man before, likely never seen a male fully naked, much less in a state of arousal. What if she found his parts repulsive and recoiled?
His ridiculous hesitation gave Nicole time to rise up on an elbow and place a hand along the bulge in his breeches.
“What must I do to prepare you?”
He was too damn prepared already—not a normal state for him. He usually enjoyed a woman’s attentions, with both hand and mouth, particularly if a woman knew how to effectively use her tongue.
An image of Nicole taking a long, slow lick along his shaft was nearly his undoing. If he didn’t enter her soon, he might well go mad.
“I am prepared,” he stated, shoving down the rough cloth to reveal his absolute readiness.
Her doe-brown eyes widened further. To his relief he saw no fear, only curiosity. ’Twas hell to remain unmoving under her inspection, worse still to endure the touch of a single finger to his tip. His cock twitched in answer, drawing forth an odd smile from the woman it craved to satisfy.
“Magnificent,” Nicole declared, and Rhodri could stand the waiting no more.
After a few deft movements, he knelt between her spread legs, her knees raised. Poised to slide within her depths, he wished he’d built the shelter a bit longer so he could properly stretch out atop her. Instead, he placed his hands beneath her buttocks and raised her up to meet him.
Watching him, surely realizing what he was about to do to her, Nicole’s fists clutched the blanket she lie upon.
And knowing what he was about to do to her, Rhodri again ran a thumb through her moist heat, the last of his preparations. Her response was immediate and most gratifying.
Sure that Nicole was on the verge of a woman’s bliss, he slid inside that tight, hot place where he’d yearned to be, sorry he must be the one to hurt her, not sorry at all he was her first. Her inner muscles clamped around him in an arousing caress. When his penetration was halted by a barrier, he struggled for control.
“Some women feel pain when the maidenhead breaks; some do not. Either way, ’twill be over in a trice, and then all will be pleasure.”
The warning and promise given, Rhodri thrust swiftly to breach the maidenhead, then plummeted deep to fill her, claiming Nicole as his lover.
She cried out, her head tilted back—and then she relaxed, and smiled.
“Not so bad,” she said softly.
Grinning like a fool for an accomplishment he truly couldn’t take credit for, with solid, bold strokes Rhodri strove to keep his promise. With each thrust and withdrawal, his smile faded a bit more, as did Nicole’s.
Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Nicole’s eyes closed, her lips parted and breath ragged. His grip on his control began to slip away, the agony an ecstasy all its own.
With a shudder and hiss, Nicole bucked upward. The pulse of her bliss washed over him, permitting the rapture of his own release. Tremors shook him to his core, deeply, violently, with pleasure too intense to describe.
Nicole went limp, staring up at him in awe. “Oh, Rhodri,” she whispered and reached for him.
To answer Nicole’s invitation to embrace, he reluctantly slipped from inside her and, with a bit of rearranging of limbs, joined her on the blanket. The only way for them to both lie down in the small space available was on their sides, her back pressed to his front, their knees raised.
Her tight, firm bottom squirmed, and parts of him that should be satisfied and silent began to anticipate activities he shouldn’t be able to perform as yet. Hellfire, how could he become randy again so soon?
Perhaps it was the scent of her hair, so close to his nose the stray hairs moved with his outward breath. Or because he could feel the silken skin of her breasts on the arm he’d wrapped around her.
Or maybe he’d simply been without a woman for too long.
Rhodri scoffed at the inept attempt to explain away the incomparable experience of coupling with Nicole. No woman had come close to pleasing him half so much, and Nicole had not done much physically at all. Sweet mercy, even when he was old and gray and withered, he would remember this night in a fern-covered shelter with unrivaled fondness.
She sighed. “Do you think the rain might fall for a day or two? And if it does, must we venture out in it?”
Her wistful questions gave him pause and, for a moment, he entertained the idea of halting their journey and staying curled up in the shelt
er—naked—for another day.
“The earl’s patrol is out there somewhere, and I suspect Connor is beginning to watch for us. Rain or not, we must move on.”
And Connor wasn’t going to be happy if he learned Nicole was no longer a virgin. She wasn’t meant for the likes of him, but for a prince, as a means to unify a country, and to bear fruit on the Welsh branch of Pendragon.
Rhodri tried to upbraid himself for taking advantage of the foul weather, and Nicole’s state of undress, and the overwhelming temptation he hadn’t been able to resist—and couldn’t.
Perhaps at some later time he’d feel the need for contrition or atonement. But for tonight, and for several nights yet to come, Nicole was his, and for that Rhodri couldn’t summon a wisp of sorrow or regret.
He pushed away the hair from her shoulder and placed a string of kisses along her bare skin, paying particular heed to the curve of her neck.
“Mmmm.”
He smiled at her approval. “You like that.”
“Oh, aye.”
So he continued, his hand moving slightly to cup the swell of her breast, his thumb finding and grazing the nub at the tip.
She laughed lightly. “Now I know why Sister Amelia was always so joyful when Bishop Edward came to visit.”
He didn’t have to ask why and was rather pleased that Nicole considered their coupling enjoyable.
The notion of a nun servicing a bishop didn’t shock Rhodri. He knew of many men of the Church who kept a mistress or a housekeeper. Sons of bishops could be assured of high positions within the Church, and their daughters of good marriages.
“Odd for a bishop to keep his mistress in a nunnery.”
“The arrangement suited them. Mother Abbess did not approve, but short of locking Amelia in a cellar, there was naught she could do to keep the lovers apart.” She was quiet for a moment before softly asking, “Do you have a mistress?”
The question was fraught with danger if he wasn’t careful in answering. But Nicole needed assurance that, for the present, she was his only lover.