A Damsel In Distress • Dragon Fighter Romance Book 1 (Dragon Fighter Romance ~ Book 1)

by Brenda Williamson

  Irisa shuddered at the thought. Of all the men she had kissed, Elan wasn’t one of them.

  “My hope is to see you with child as soon as possible.” He made a circling motion over her belly.

  Nauseated by the idea of Elan touching her skin, Irisa moved out of this reach. Her aim was for the great hall. However, he cornered her outside the doorway.

  “Your pretense of shyness does not suit you, M’lady.” Elan advanced. “Do not think for a moment I have left you without a protector until we could be together.”

  She tried to duck away from him and he put a hand up against the wall stopping her.

  “So you’ve had someone spying on me. Do you think I care?” She didn’t get a chance to flee the other direction either as he fenced her in place.

  “He tells me over the last few months you’ve been seen with three different men.”

  “Three he knows of.” She lifted her chin, goading his jealousy.

  “The one I’m most concerned about is the young squire, Leturne.” He gripped her chin in the vise of his fingers. “Do you deny he’s tasted you?”

  The dryness in her throat made it hard for Irisa to swallow. Leturne had not had the pleasure, but he had received it from her. Soon after that night, he disappeared. She never questioned where he went. Squires often had one goal and that was to become a knight. For that reason, they often moved from one kingdom to another to better their positions.

  “I see by your hesitancy, you will not refute that the man was between your legs.”

  Irisa smiled, enjoying the enraged expression on Elan’s face. Leturne was an inexperienced boy in comparison to Ware and she wondered what Elan would have to say of her most recent encounters.

  Elan grabbed her wrist and tugged her to a room beneath the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” she stumbled into the small storage area.

  “Examine her,” his orders were directed past her to someone else.

  Two women stood in the shadows.

  “Yes, M’lord.” One came forward.

  “Examine me for what?” Irisa backed from her.

  There was no place to go, no escape as she retreated right into Elan.

  “I want proof you’re intact.” His arms wrapped her upper body. “Whatever games you’ve played can be overlooked as long as you’ve not been ruined.”

  He picked her up and deposited her on a small worktable.

  “Let me go,” she screamed.

  “Take her legs,” he instructed the women while he held her down at the shoulders.

  The one woman was quite large and brawny like a man. She grabbed Irisa’s legs. The other woman pushed the gown up Irisa’s legs, working the cloth from under her bottom until the lower half of her body was exposed.

  When the woman picked up a long handled wooden spoon, Irisa bucked and struggled against everyone’s grip on her. Elan bent and put his face close to hers.

  “You’ll lay still and let them examine you,” he growled. “If they discover that your promiscuity has made you a whore, I’ll kill your father.”

  From head to toe, Irisa shook with outrage. She tried to still herself, except the woman came at her with the spoon. Struggling, Irisa managed to get a leg free and kick the woman away. Elan in his attempt to restrain her, lost the hold on her shoulders and she rolled off the table.

  “You’ll have to take my word I am a virgin, Sir Tulane.” His name seethed out between her clenched teeth.

  Irisa took a deep breath and marched out of the room. The idea of having a wooden spoon handle shoved in her continued to make her fume as she walked to the entrance of the great hall. She didn’t think anything could calm her since Elan followed close on her heels.

  “Sir Tulane, I hear announcements will be made soon. It’s a lucky man that wins the hand of the Lady Mansfield.” One of the many lords in the room smiled.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it, Lord Roshaw.” Elan surrounded Irisa’s shoulders with his arm and gave her a squeeze.

  She resisted hitting him and gave Lord Roshaw a nod of her head for his unwelcome compliment.

  “Pembroke!” Elan shouted above the din.

  Irisa’s gaze followed the direction in which Elan’s aimed. If there was one thing in the world that could remove the heaviness from her heart, it was seeing Ware.

  Ware had no smile for Elan and Irisa didn’t want the two to meet. Yet, when her father told Elan of the events that brought Ware to Mansfield castle, she knew this inevitable moment would come.

  “Do not embarrass him, please. He doesn’t wish a reward.”

  Elan’s deep set eyes rolled in the sockets and his dark pupils were tiny dots of black in a muddy pool of brown.

  “You’ve taken an interest in Pembroke’s feelings?” he inquired.

  “I don’t wish any guest to have to explain himself. He’s made his point clear to my father and I’d rather not bring up the subject of my abduction.”

  Ware’s gaze passed over her and landed on Elan’s hand on her belly as he came up to them. The possessive hold did not change Ware’s expression, but she saw the registering of hurt in his eyes.

  “Lord Mansfield told me of your service to Irisa.” Elan pulled Irisa closer and she didn’t like his exaggerated show of dominance. “I must thank you for your assistance, Pembroke.”

  “Thanks are not necessary. I was simply attempting to retrieve one of my dragons when I stumbled upon her.”

  Irisa fumed silently over the two of them acting as if she were nothing more than a pet someone lost.

  “Then I’m glad we did not force a reward on you, Sir Pembroke.” Irisa shook off Elan’s hold. “I’d hate to think we almost insulted you.”

  “M’lady, you don’t have it in your nature to insult me.” Ware’s gaze locked to hers.

  “Sir Tulane, I think Father is waiting for us.” Duty required her to shun the only man to ever make her heart smile.

  Ware walked with them to the table. She wondered what he thought of or what he might say, should Elan question him more about the abduction.

  “Sir Pembroke, if you please, I’d like you to sit here, near me.” Lord Mansfield pointed to the chair alongside Irisa.

  She was on one side of her father while Elan was on the other. It gave her a good opportunity to speak to Sir Pembroke with the buffer from Elan. Only Ware would not look at her and it pained her to have him stare straight ahead as if she didn’t exist.

  “I thought you left for good with your dragon,” she whispered.

  “I pastured him over the hill near the forest where he won’t be subjected to abuse.”

  “That’s good. It was quite cruel of Tulane’s men.”

  “Ladies and Gentlemen!” Lord Mansfield clanked his knife against his silver goblet.

  Irisa heard her father speaking, but all her desires were with talking to Ware.

  “Sir Tulane and my daughter Irisa have been betrothed for a long year now and the date has been set,” her father announced.

  It wasn’t a happy moment for her.

  “Your dragon is all right, then?” She didn’t know what else to talk to Ware about.

  He didn’t say anything and she saw his attention was more with her father’s speech. Cheers and table pounding made Irisa shrink back in her chair. From the corner of her eye, she watched Ware’s hand clench into a fist. She longed to touch him, cover the taut fingers blanching white, and beg his forgiveness. Even that daydream shattered by her father’s announcement.

  “…tomorrow!” Lord Mansfield shouted.

  “Tomorrow?” Irisa’s reverie, broken by the very real date her father declared, had her out of her seat.

  When she told him to pick any day, she thought a month, maybe two, not the next day.

  Her father took her hand and put it into Elan’s as he stepped back. Numbed by the news, she didn’t comprehend Elan’s face coming closer until his mouth pressed hers. His hands moved to the sides of her head and he held her from pulling away.
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  The shouts of gaiety propounded his assertion and he continued to slobber over her, sucking at her lips until she was sickened with disgust.

  “Excuse me.” She twisted from him.

  “Seems my bride is anxious to get ready early!” Elan joked. “A good thing too, she will need the rest.”

  The comment furthered her upset and the laughter from the crowd rang loud in her ears. It deafened her to the congratulations from people wishing her well as she hurried out of the great hall. She plowed through the servants waiting with trays of food at the doorway and she didn’t stop moving until she reached her destination.

  ***

  For hours, the celebration continued. Ware sat quietly consuming wine, one goblet after another. Irisa had not shown a sliver of happiness in her expression when she left. By early morning, his obligation to be a good guest ended. Others left much earlier then he did for their chambers.

  Ware planned to get a few hours sleep and then ride for home. The golden-haired angel asleep on his bed changed everything. He closed the door, turned the key in the lock and quietly knelt down to look at Irisa.

  “Irisa.” He pushed coils of her hair back and ran his finger down her nose. “Irisa, wake up.”

  She opened her eyes and the red rims disturbed him. This vibrant beauty didn’t cry. She was strong like a warrior and tougher than he when it came to pain. This was not how he ever wanted to see her.

  “I didn’t think t’would look right if I were to walk you to the gate in the morning to say goodbye.” She sat up and the covers that fell away exposed her bare shoulders. The thin slip of a cotton nightdress hid almost nothing.

  She climbed off the bed and circled the room like a caged animal. He watched her form outlined beneath the cloth—distracting and seductive. He picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “God knows, as well as you do, that I want you, Irisa. Must you tempt me into an agonizing pain?”

  She snatched the blanket closed. A blush of red tinted her pale cheeks. He’d never seen her show a lick of embarrassment.

  “I will go so you can get some sleep. ‘Tis a long ride you have tomorrow. Goodbye, Sir Pembroke.”

  The disobedient, incorrigible part of him had not died with maturity, as he believed. Ware seized her arm and dragged her up against his chest. Her warm breath mingled with his as their mouths collided. Her lips parted for his tongue to explore and reacquaint himself with her kiss. The depths of a wild fantasy did not include what happened beyond the walls of his chamber. Inside his room, he could have her body and soul, and he knew she wanted the same, the moment she kissed him back with urgency.

  “This changes nothing that is supposed to happen.” She pecked kisses over his face as he scooped her up. “Tell me, please. Tell me after tonight, you will not try to see me again.”

  He didn’t answer her. Ware didn’t want to think of the consequences to their passion. He only wanted to revel in having her submissive.

  Putting her on the bed, he knelt, one knee to the mattress. He leaned on an elbow and stroked a hand over her shoulder and down her arm. She clasped his hand in hers. Their fingers weaved together forming a brief bond.

  “I’ll never hurt you, Irisa. Not by taking your chastity because of a maddening moment of my lust.”

  “I give you permission, Sir Pembroke. Take what you will before Sir Tulane.”

  He cupped her cheek and brushed a tear from her skin.

  “Temptress,” he whispered the word gently against her lips.

  She offered beauty in all her moves, every look and each word she spoke to him.

  “You’re irresistible.” He slid down, kissing her body as he went.

  Through the lightweight cloth of her nightshift, he tongued her taut nipples. The wetness of his suckling made the fabric transparent and easily manipulated. Each breast received an ample supply of his devotion. Each tip reddened, making the pink of her skin seem as if it were staining a circle on the cloth.

  Her fingers combed through his hair, glided over his head and massaged his scalp. She twisted the locks until she pulled his scalp. The squirming of her bottom alerted him to her readiness for the first of her many orgasms.

  He rose up and jerked his tunic off over his head. Irisa’s glassy stare remained riveted to him. In her trance, he didn’t think she noticed him completely undress. Except her eyes drifted down and her small gasp, told him his nakedness excited her.

  “Play with your breasts for me.” He watched her fingers pinch her small nipples and make them bigger. “That’s it.”

  He climbed on the bed, parted her legs and bent down. He kissed the back of her hand.

  “Hold them for me. Squeeze them up.”

  He gnawed gingerly on the tip of one. Irisa instinctively maneuvered it between his teeth, scraping it back and forth, moaning uncontrollably at his intermittent tugs. Her hips gyrated and lifted with her needs again. He didn’t let her touch him.

  “Sir Pembroke…” she whined. “Please, don’t stop.”

  He lifted his head and looked at her on the verge of another orgasm. Her hands worked feverishly kneading her breasts and he kissed his way down to her belly to torture her with another pleasure point.

  With one long stroke, he swiped his tongue over her nightshift, pressing the cloth into her cunt. Instantly her hips bucked, forcing his tongue to plunge the cloth farther into her.

  Ware wasted no time in gripping the hem of her nightshift and ripping it up high enough for him to drive his tongue all the way into her.

  “Oh God!” she groaned.

  In his retreat, she dug her fingers in his scalp, holding him to her.

  “Again,” she cried faintly.

  His teeth pressed and he licked deeper.

  “Yes,” she groaned. “Yes, more.”

  His body shook with the enchantment of her moans. His cock lay stiff and throbbing against the inside of her knee, waiting to plunge into her. Hot and anxious, he let his tongue do the work his erection begged to do.

  Ware took a chance she’d not object and he curled his tongue around the curve to the crack of her ass and rubbed the crinkled hole of her bottom.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  With his tongue, he pushed into the ring. She clenched tortuously hard on his probe.

  “Oh, yes,” she gasped

  He pulled out and returned to tasting her succulent recesses, the fragrance of her sexual scent and her approval drove his pulse insane. He had the very essence of her intimate juices taunting him and he wanted more.

  With her body responding frantically, he pulled her legs up over his shoulders. She wiggled, pulling free several times. He grabbed her waist, raised her up and shoved her against the headboard. There, sitting on his shoulders, she’d not move from his lips suckling her.

  She moaned with sweet explicit sounds of enjoyment. Her flesh quivered with its dire craving to be sated. Her body sought with urgency, everything he offered. It made his passion wilder.

  Shame had no ground on which to claim him as his erection thrashed the air. His rapacious lust sought a cure to an ache so deep he couldn’t stop shaking. With Irisa locked into position against the headboard, she wailed like a Gaza harlot during her throes of ecstasy. He tongued her heated inflamed center until she was dry and raw from a half dozen orgasms. On her last trembling cries, he ejaculated into the waded up sheeting.

  “Ware!” her hoarse voice rasped.

  He whipped the soiled bedding out of the way, to the floor and dragged her down to the barren mattress.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  ***

  Irisa heaved another exhaustive breath. Ware tore the remainder of her nightshift open. While her breasts jiggled to a stop, his gaze feasted on her. Glassy, intense and hungry like an animal, he lowered his stare to her naked body. The heat of his perusal burned her flesh.

  He gave her no modesty and she could hardly say she felt shame in the way he opened her legs and exposed her
feminine recess. Yet, speaking was not an option. Breathless from the pleasure, she waited for his direction.

  Ware bent her leg up and propped her foot on his chest. Her toes felt the hardness of his muscles and the softness of short black hairs. He massaged her toes and when he lifted her foot higher, he kissed over the bottom of her sole. She put a finger in her mouth and bit hard to hold back her instinct to pull from the tickling sensation.

  He sucked on her toes and licked the top of her foot. His green-eyed stare never left her fascinated gaze. She blushed as his lips traveled down her leg.

  “You are very thorough, Sir Pembroke.”

  “It shan’t be thorough enough, I’m afraid.” He put her leg down.

  He rubbed at her sensitive mound, raking a finger through the wet hairs, arousing her. It didn’t take much to awaken the responsive nub. He hovered over her for a minute and then lowered his weight onto her. His cock nested into the gap of her aroused sex and he rocked back and forth.

  “I want you in me,” she begged.

  “I know.” He kept grinding her with his body.

  She shuddered as the sensations formed a different invigorating route of seduction. She pressed her hips to him and his thick cock wedged against her, but didn’t enter.

  “Ware, please.”

  “I do not want to deny you, Irisa, but I must.”

  Her nipples found the soft hair on his chest an abrasive stimulation when rubbed continually. He soothed the puckered tips of her breast at the same time she shuddered from another orgasm. He slid down and soothed the scorching tenderness of her nipples by licking and suckling them until they softened into pale tinted peaks.

  His rough hands grated over her body stimulating every pore and massaging the glistening perspiration back into her. He shifted off her and fell heavily alongside, rolling her away from the wet spot on the bed.

  She found herself face to face with him. His kisses were gentle oscillating caresses of her face. He moved slowly and her insides raged like a turbulent storm. His fingers skated down her belly and into the nether regions of her ache. He parted the chafed lips and plunged a finger into the center.