So, instead, he decided to focus on what he stood to gain. This would be a second chance, and a way for him to convince her that their marriage could be a happy, loving one.
He loosened the ties of his shirt.
Her eyes widened. “It is still early yet, my lord.”
He flashed a grin. “Not for me, Izzy. I’ve been across the country twice in search of you. I seek nothing more than a warm bed.”
She swallowed hard, and then graced him with a slight nod. With a look on her face as though she were a lamb on its way to the slaughter, she moved resolutely toward the bed.
Chapter 19
Izzy sat on the very edge of the bed, waiting for Ram to pounce upon her now that she’d agreed to be intimate with him. When he remained standing, watching her with what could only be described as amusement, she stared back, surprised.
She had no patience for his game, whatever it was. If he wanted her in his bed, he would have to get on with it. Swinging her legs onto the mattress, she lay back against the pillows, taking a deep breath. “I’m ready.” Her pronouncement sounded resigned, even to her own ears.
His low chuckle raised her hackles.
She gritted her teeth. “May I ask what you find so entertaining?”
Ram met her gaze for a moment, before breaking the stare to walk around the room, extinguishing all candles but one. The result immersed the room in the flickering glow of candlelight that turned everything a reddish shade as it reflected the color of the carpet and furnishings. The chamber, already quite small, felt incredibly intimate in the dim light.
He approached the bed and lowered himself upon it, reclining on the vacant side. Rising up on his elbow, he reached out and toyed with a long tendril of her hair. An instinct to yank her hair away from his grasp rose to the fore as his nearness set off nervous fluttering in her belly. She clamped down on her urge to flee with an iron will.
“C-can we get this over with, my lord?”
He sighed. “Izzy, lovemaking is not a chore to be tolerated in a darkened room while you grit your teeth and count the seconds until it is done. It is a joining of two bodies, two hearts,” he found her hand and laced his fingers through hers, “two souls. I know you understand, for we experienced it at the crofter’s hut together.”
Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out his words. She could not reconcile their glorious stolen moments in the hut with what happened on their wedding night.
He stroked the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I’m not going to make love to you tonight, Izzy.”
Her eyes shot open and the tension in her body began to unwind.
“You’re going to make love to me.”
“What?” She pulled away, struggling to sit up against the headboard. “You said I must share your bed as your proper wife. What game is this?”
“No game, Sweetheart. I’m giving all control to you. You will set the pace. We’ll go as slow as you need in order to feel comfortable. You hold all the power.”
“But I don’t know how!” Even as she made the protest her pulse quickened, remembering how much she’d enjoyed having him in her power when she pleasured him with her mouth.
“The woman who snuck off to Padstow on May Day knew how. Was she more of a woman than the real Izzy? Or is the woman who enchanted me so during those long hours in the crofter’s hut lurking somewhere deep inside you?”
His words were blatantly sensual, bringing to mind not their wedding night, but graphic memories of stolen hours with Julian, when she’d wanted nothing more than to take him deep inside her and join with him in ecstasy.
Her breath hitched.
His eyes kindled.
She forced her thoughts back to the present. He’d thrown out a challenge. Staring into his eyes, she contemplated her options. Surely, there must be some way to outwit him? Yet nothing came to mind. His steel gaze didn’t waver as he awaited her response.
If there was no way to outplay him at his game, then his challenge would not go unmet. She would be woman enough to make love to him, and before she was done, he’d be on his knees begging! She’d make him regret playing games with her!
Nodding her acquiescence, she watched, fascinated, as his pupils dilated.
After the barest hesitation, she slipped to her knees at his side as he lay back against a pillow. Reaching out a tentative hand, she stroked his cheek. The rough stubble that had grown there throughout the day abraded her skin. He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm gently.
Something about the gesture touched her heart and she closed her hand tightly, as if the kiss were something she could keep. Slow warmth unfurled from her center.
Leaning over him, she lowered her mouth to his. The kiss was tentative at first, but as soon as he began to return her kiss, she gave herself over to the feel of his lips against hers. She opened her mouth and his tongue slid inside, tracing the contours of her lips, running lightly across her teeth and then slowly tangling with her tongue. More memories sparked, of the days spent with him when he was simply ‘Julian’, and those feelings returned, albeit with some hesitancy.
Without breaking the kiss she threw one leg over his hips so she could have better access to all of him. His arms came up, embracing her, his hands rubbing gentle circles across her back.
Emboldened by knowing she could stop at the merest hint of fear, she explored his body, learning him all over again as though she’d never touched him before. Her hands slid over the taut muscles of his chest, the heat of his skin scorching even through his thin linen shirt. Trailing kisses over his chin and down his neck, she lifted the hem of his shirt, removing her mouth from him only as long as it took to pull it over his uplifted arms and head. With the garment out of the way, she sought his small, flat nipple, and reveled in the harsh groan that escaped his lips as she tongued him. Between her legs there was a sudden hollow ache that she well remembered.
His hands lifted, tangled in her hair as she continued her descent down his body. She splayed her hands flat on his heated chest, drawing them down his torso in a slow motion, fascinated as the muscles of his taut belly dipped in at her touch. He arched beneath her as she drew near the waistband of his breeches and suddenly she was in the mood to tease and taunt. She held all the power, she could stop their play at any time, and that knowledge lent her courage. And though she knew exactly what he wanted, she would make him wait. She slid her fingers just beneath the waistband, but went no further, much the way he’d tormented her during their first embrace of the evening.
When she braved a glance at his face, his eyes were narrowed, his breathing heavy. As the headiness of control washed over her, hot moisture formed between her thighs.
“Izzy…” His voice rang with warning and she suppressed a smile. He might have been the one to issue the challenge, but it was as hard for him to remain submissive as it was for her to overcome her fear and take the dominant role.
“You said I could set the pace, my lord.” Was that really her voice? It sounded so husky.
His head fell back. He clenched his eyes shut with a groan.
She shimmied down his body until she rested at the bottom of the bed. Making quick work of removing his shoes and stockings, she slid back up again. This time she did more than slip her fingers in the waistband of his breeches. She peeled his breeches down, jumping back when his large shaft sprang free before her.
Memories of the pain caused by that organ assailed her, almost overwhelming her desire to be courageous. Closing her eyes, she desperately fought against the fear clawing at the edge of her awareness.
“Izzy.” Ram’s voice was a soft caress. When she forced her eyes open and met his gaze, she saw gentle understanding reflected back. A shuddering sigh escaped, taking with it most of her lingering insecurity. How could she fear when he looked at her so? Moving back to safer territory, she reclaimed his mouth.
With a tender touch, he burrowed his hands in her hair, letting long strands of her tresses trail between hi
s fingers to float all around them. His hands moved to her waist and the heat from his palms permeated the layers of her gown and chemise, branding her.
Restless, she shifted against him as he kissed her. Then, like a tiger released from its cage, he sprung into action. His hands swept upwards, cupping her breasts with a sure touch. His thumbs flicked over her hardening nipples and she gasped against his mouth.
His nimble fingers peeled both her gown and shift down to her waist. Disengaging his mouth from hers, he dropped his hands to her waist, lifting her forward so she hung over him. He drew her left nipple into his mouth, alternating between suckling and laving it with his tongue, while he rolled her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Heat rippled through her body as he sucked her nipples and she moaned, welcoming the building arousal in her loins and suddenly glad to give up her position of dominance.
Arching upward, she removed her breast from his mouth and slid back, freezing when her backside met his marble-hard shaft. His fingers grasped the hem of her gown and crept upwards, until her gown bunched around her waist, her bare bottom pressed against his hot skin. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought burgeoning panic.
“Lower yourself onto me, Sweetheart, that way you can stop the moment you become uncomfortable.” His hands were now beneath her skirts, sliding up her thighs to probe her hot center. As his finger slipped between her folds, some of the fear receded.
As he toyed with her, she became aware of how very slick she was.
“You’re ready for me, love. Can you feel how wet and hot you are?” His voice was no more than a harsh whisper but the words sent little arrows of heat winging toward her core. His fingers found her sensitive bud; her head fell back as the building of her climax began.
Unable to take the exquisite pressure any longer, she rose up on her knees over him, then faltered, unsure as to what she should do next. His hands cupped her backside to lend support. She hovered above him in indecision. Her body screamed in need, yet the pain of their last encounter was still so vivid in her memory.
Need won out. She could stop at any moment, he’d promised. She trusted him not to go back on his word.
Grasping his thick shaft in one hand, she guided him to the entrance of her body. The head slipped inside and she lowered herself onto him ever so slowly, inch by inch.
She heard his harsh breathing as she concentrated on her task, waiting for the pain to come. But then she was fully impaled upon him, and there was no pain. She stared at him in amazement and met his burning gaze. His eyes reflected both tenderness and tension at once.
Moments passed, as she took in the feeling, simply enjoying the sensation of being joined with him. And then;
“For the love of God, Izzy, please, I beg of you, move.”
His words jolted her out of her stupefaction with a thrill of victory at making him beg as she’d planned, but also with so much more. She rose high on her knees, then lifted herself off of him and back down, over and over again. Each time her body sheathed him, a hoarse cry escaped his lips. The raw sound was so erotic it sent the coiling in her belly spiraling even tighter than before. She began to experiment from her new position of power.
Leaning forward, she placed her hands on either side of his chest to support her weight, and the change in angle did unspeakable things to her as his shaft rubbed harder against her until she gasped and writhed wildly in abandon.
Finally, he took control, and she was glad of it.
His arms reached around her and in one movement, he flipped them, so she lay on her back beneath him. Panic crept in around the edge of her euphoria as she recalled the last time he lay upon her thus, but his long, slow thrusts soon scattered all memory to the wind. Her awareness centered on his body moving against hers, inside hers, filling her over and over again, as if she was made for him.
She clutched at his shoulders as the pleasure built, spiraling tightly within her belly, yearning for the release only he could give her. His thrusts quickened and became harder, until they slid farther back on the bed with every plunge he made into her body.
Just when she thought she could stand no more of the intense pleasure, he lowered his head and suckled her nipple, and it was the catalyst that sent her flying over the precipice. She exploded into shards of bliss, crying his name over and over again, and felt her fingernails digging into the skin of his arms and her body clenching around his. As shudders wracked her from head to toe, she opened her eyes. Ram threw his head back, neck muscles straining, and erupted inside her with a hoarse cry that sounded like her name.
Languidity stole over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and as awareness crept back, she noticed how nice the weight of his body felt upon hers. He had buried his head in her neck and she brought her hands up, running her fingers through his hair in wonder. He turned his face and pressed a soft kiss to her neck.
So this was what it was all about!
But as she lay beneath Ram, thoughts of Paul intruded. Her body went taut. How could she have so enjoyed lying with Ram, when the man she loved was here at court, probably ensconced in a room nearby? Was she that fickle, willing to betray the man she loved for a moment of pleasure? What kind of woman did that make her?
Her euphoria vanished in a trice and hot tears rose in her eyes. She couldn’t stop them from spilling onto her cheeks. If she continued to allow Ram to seduce her, she might lose Paul forever, if she hadn’t already done so. Yet until she could convince the King to offer his aid in attaining an annulment, Ram had every right to do such things to her. But the more time that passed, the less were her chances of salvaging her relationship with Paul.
When had her life turned into such a disaster?
***
Her shuddering body jolted Ram from lazy contentment, and he lifted his head, stunned to see tears on Izzy’s cheeks.
What the hell?
He watched her cry, mystified as to what could be wrong. He’d known some women who would cry after an especially powerful orgasmic release, but instinct told him that wasn’t the issue here. Not that their union had been anything less than cataclysmic. She had fulfilled every sensuous promise her body had ever made, and never had he experienced such complete fulfillment during the love act. So why then was she crying?
He touched a finger to her cheek, wiping away a tear. “Izzy? Sweetheart, what’s wrong.”
She shook her head, turning away from his gaze.
“Did I hurt you?” Bemused, he wracked his brain to think of anything that might have caused her distress.
Again, she shook her head, but this time she wrenched her body to the side, a sure sign she wanted his weight off her. He complied, and she curled over to face the wall. He pressed close against her back, draping his arm over her, stroking her arm, trying to soothe.
“What is it?”
“Paul.” Her voice came out choked.
He froze. Had she truly uttered the name of her former paramour in their bed, after their lovemaking?
He jerked his arm away as if burned, thrusting himself out of the bed, stung to the core. He had just experienced the most powerful lovemaking experience of his life, and she had the gall to cry over that peacock, Huntley?
He yanked on his breeches. “Nay, Isabelle. I’m afraid I’m Ramsay, not Paul. I’m the one who actually showed up to marry you and am now your husband, remember? It shouldn’t be that difficult to tell us apart.”
Her shoulders shook harder, and he paused in his movements, at a complete loss. His pride stung that she could think of another man after the intimacy just shared. Yet concern over what could be hurting her so overpowered his rage.
Sighing, he settled back on the bed, near her hip. “Do you wish to speak of it?”
He watched the back of her head shake in the negative.
“It might help to talk about what is wrong. Perhaps it isn’t as bad as you think?”
Unexpectedly, she sat up, clutching the sheet over her breasts, s
taring at him dolefully, her eyes red, her face splotchy.
“I’m an awful person!” Her voice cracked and more tears leaked from her eyes.
Bemused, he stared, at an utter loss. “I’m afraid I am confused. What would possibly make you think that about yourself? We are married. There’s nothing wrong with what we just did.” It was bloody right, that’s what it was!
“I’m not upset over that.” Even through her tears he could see her roll her eyes. How could she look so unbelievably adorable while behaving in such a maddening manner?
“Then whatever is wrong?”
She released her breath in a quivering huff. “I love Paul! B-but, I love what you and I did too! I’m a sh-shameless, fickle wanton.”
Her proclamation of love for Huntley smarted, but his attention seized on the latter part of her statement. She had been as affected by their lovemaking as he’d been, and she felt guilty for it. Surely that meant there was a chance for them? He might not have her love yet, but he could enslave her with desire, and perhaps she would come to realize her feelings for Huntley were nothing more than lingering affections from girlhood. Ram would be the one to teach her what it was to be a woman.
He only had to make sure she stayed long enough to come to the realization that she wanted and needed him, and not Huntley.
A good general knew when to advance and when to retreat to do battle another day. Now was the time for the latter.
“Try and get some sleep, love.” He stretched out beside her in the bed, resisting the urge to take her into his arms. “I’m sure all will seem brighter in the morning.”
Chapter 20
Things did indeed seem brighter in the morning, at least for Ram as he opened his eyes and took in the sight of the beautiful woman slumbering in peace beside him. She was now his wife in every way. My wife.
The idea was so strange, yet now he couldn’t imagine his life without Izzy in it. Sure, she was a maddening creature, but she had fast become his maddening creature.
Virtue and Vice Page 21