by Julia Latham
In the loud hall, full of singing minstrels and cheering soldiers gambling at dice, no one was close enough to pay attention to their words. Paul rubbed his hands together. “If you must be here, I need answers.”
“Answers?” Michael repeated suspiciously.
“Tell me about your journey with my brother down the length of England with his kidnapped bride.”
“She wasn’t his bride then,” Michael said, then winced, as if he regretted the words.
“Ah, eager to talk are you. I’m eager to hear. So you and my brothers breezed into her father’s well-guarded castle and simply stole her away.”
Michael rocked on his heels as he looked at the floor, and for a moment, Paul thought he’d retreat into silence.
“We used a wagon,” Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tossed her in a sack and buried her beneath the straw before anyone saw what we’d done.”
Paul chuckled, feeling a tightness in his chest begin to loosen. “Tell me more.”
Juliana approached Paul, walking slowly because she hated to interrupt. He and Michael were laughing together—laughing together!—and she couldn’t have been more shocked. There’d been such antipathy between them: Paul, because he envied Michael’s journey with his brothers to avenge his parents; and Michael, because he felt Paul had abandoned his duty to the League.
Finally she was close enough to hear their conversation.
“And then you became separated in London?” Paul asked, his voice full of disbelief. “And Florrie went to confront her murderous father alone?”
“Adam found her in time, of course,” Michael said, shaking his head.
“Aye, Adam mentioned how difficult it was for his wife to hear the extent of her father’s sins. She’s a brave woman.”
“And then there was Timothy’s assistance.”
Juliana expected Paul to change the subject, but he only nodded.
“Adam mentioned it. What did he do?”
“He caught up with us part way, and when he was supposed to bring back Lady Florence, he let us depart, going against the League.”
Paul made no sarcastic comment, only sighed and said, “Glad I am that he took the right stand.”
Both men suddenly noticed her, and Michael nodded. “I’ll leave you in capable hands, Sir Paul.”
“She is my closest guard,” Paul said.
Juliana and Paul looked at each other, and when he reached out a hand, she took it but didn’t walk into his embrace. She suddenly didn’t know how to tell him what she’d decided, what she wanted. It seemed too brazen, and she couldn’t play the concubine for something so important. She was restless and eager and uncertain.
“Paul, you jousted today, getting the exercise you so badly needed. I’ve had none. Come with me, for I need your help.”
His gaze was curious, but he didn’t question her, only followed her up to their bedchamber. Though she was distracted, she still did her duty, careful at every open door they passed, every corridor that intersected with theirs.
But at last they were alone.
And Paul watched her, waiting.
She felt foolish now, uncertain, but she presented him with her back. “Can you unlace me? I need to don a shirt and breeches. You might want to remove that fancy doublet for something more practical.”
When she went behind the screen, he called, “What are we doing?”
She peered out and grinned. “Sword fighting.”
When she emerged, he eyed her with interest. “We have little room to maneuver.”
“Then it will be a challenge.” She removed her sword from beneath the bed, drew it forth from its sheath, and grinned fiercely as it shone in the lamplight.
He lifted his sword and began to circle, as she did the same. He thrust, she parried, twisting so that their swords locked and they faced each other close across the blades. Part of the challenge was that these were no blunted swords, but lethal weapons.
“We could train in the nude, as the Greeks did,” he said, his smile wicked.
“Patience,” she said.
His smile faded into surprise.
This time she attacked, driving him backward, letting her sword just near him, trusting that he would counter the move. He put a table between them, and a chair crashed to the floor.
“Sure of yourself,” he said.
“And of you.”
“That will surely impress the League.”
She frowned even as they both slashed. He drove low, forcing her to jump his blade. She felt alive, her muscles moving in the rhythm she’d almost forgotten. Feeling once again capable and talented, she drove him backward.
He tripped over the chair and crashed into the table on his back. Lying across him, she held her blade to his throat and laughed.
They heard the squeak of the door latch, and only had a moment to toss their swords behind them to the floor. She put her hands on his face and kissed him fiercely.
“What is the meaning of this?”
A Kilborn soldier stood in the doorway, gaping at them. Juliana looked up from her place across Paul’s chest, her heart pounding, her breathing coming in gasps.
“What does it look like?” Paul demanded.
“I—I—forgive me, Sir Paul.” The man backed out of the chamber and closed the door behind him.
They stared at each other.
“That could have been a Bladesman,” he said tightly, staring at her mouth.
She licked her lips, and felt a groan reverberate through his body. “We both know they wouldn’t have entered like that.”
“What happens now?”
Wearing a slow smile, she tugged at the laces at his neck and bared his skin to her hungry gaze. She suckled beneath his ear, tasting the saltiness, feeling his life’s blood pump just beneath her mouth.
His breathing was harsh, his erection straining beneath her belly.
“Juliana, if we do not stop—”
“I don’t intend to stop. I’ve decided.”
She expected him to toss her onto the bed, to pounce on her.
Instead he pushed her up by the shoulders so he could search her face. His hesitation surprised her, but didn’t stop her. She stood up, and knowing how much it pleased a man, began to disrobe for him.
He came up on his elbows to stare at her, the table rocking precariously beneath him. She pulled the tunic over her head, let him look at the way the thin shirt outlined her breasts. Her boots and breeches came next, and she made certain he could glimpse her cleavage as she bent over.
With a man, it was so easy, she’d been told. Give him a visual feast, and he could be manipulated, and she could remain in control.
But she didn’t feel in control of her wild emotions—and she didn’t want to manipulate him.
Giving him her back, she pulled the shirt up over her head. She was naked, and she could hear his groan of approval.
“Juliana, my God,” he whispered hoarsely.
Turning slowly, she arched, let him see her breasts in profile as she released her hair from its leather tie. The curls cascaded about her, hiding her breasts, then revealing them.
She spread her legs as if bracing herself during high seas. For his blue eyes were full of storms as he rose up, breathing hard, tugging on his garments.
She stopped him and put her hands on his body. “Let me.”
He closed his eyes briefly as she pulled off his shirt. She let her hands run down the muscles of his chest as she’d always wanted to, learning them, caressing his nipples until he shuddered. Again he reached for her, tried to push her back toward the bed, and again she eluded him.
She loosened the laces of his breeches, then reached her hand inside to clasp the hard, hot length of him. He sucked in his breath, his head dropping back as he shuddered.
“This isn’t working,” she said, feeling like she couldn’t explore as she wanted to.
His eyes slammed open and he gaped at her.
She gave a low, sens
ual laugh. “Think you I mean to stop? Nay, think again.”
And she pulled his breeches and braies down to his knees. His erection seemed to aim right at her, and as she admired what she’d only heard about, she tried to imagine what it must be like for a naive virgin on her wedding night when confronted with that.
She dropped to her knees, bending to remove his boots. When he was entirely naked, she sank back on her heels and looked up at him, feeling so aroused, yet also experiencing a sweet, soft yearning to please this man.
She came back up on her knees with purpose.
“Juliana, nay, do not, I won’t last.” His voice was guttural, desperate.
She pushed his hands away. “I’ll make certain you last until I am well pleasured.”
And then she took him into her mouth. He reacted in every way she’d heard of, but she hadn’t imagined how she herself would feel, performing something that had once seemed so foreign to her. Her need to please him went beyond awkwardness. She wanted to give him all of herself, wanted him to remember this night when they were far apart, both alone in their beds because of their own choices. The thought made her ache, but she banished it from her mind.
With her mouth and tongue she played him, watched the subtle signs that she went too far, and retreated. He quivered beneath her touch, legs spread as he braced himself against her.
“Enough!” he finally said harshly, and lifted her clear off the floor.
He laid her on the bed with more gentleness than she’d imagined him capable of in his aroused state. Her hair draped across the cushions, even as she arched and lifted her arms above her head to let him see everything he would have. She expected him to take her with the single-mindedness of men, and she was ready for him, aroused and eager to have him inside her at last.
He slowly crawled over her, and she gladly spread her legs.
With a strained laugh, he said, “Nay, do not rush me.”
He bent over her and pressed a kiss in the valley between her breasts. His hair touched her with its own caress, and she inhaled, startled. He took his time, lingering over her skin, tasting her without putting his mouth where she truly wanted it. She squirmed and wriggled, beyond content, needing to feel his tongue, his attention. If their desire weren’t mutual, his power over her would have frightened her.
But she didn’t feel fear, only a mindless ache of desperate pleasure.
He chuckled, eluding her breasts even as she practically put them in his mouth.
“You’re rushing me, and that will only make me avoid what you want.”
With a moan, she sank back, trembling, and it took all her control to lie still as he had his way with her. At last she understood how a woman’s defenses, her very thoughts, could be swept away from her, unresisting. Paul licked her slowly, working his way to the peaks of her breasts, until she was panting, barely holding herself back from moaning too loudly. At last he took her nipple into his mouth, tasting, licking, teasing, doing the same to the other.
She was no longer Juliana the Concubine, but simply Juliana. Though she’d known what to expect, she felt overwhelmed, overcome, so grateful to be sharing this with him.
And when at last he settled between her thighs, she lifted her hips, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes.”
Still he held back, his penis at her entrance, teasing her, drawing out each moment. Beneath him, she knew at last she was a woman, not just a warrior, and that by denying the feminine part of herself, she’d only been living half a life.
And then he entered her, thrusting deep. The pain was negligible; her gasp because he stretched her, filled her, made her know that she would experience all.
But braced with his hands on either side of her shoulders, he froze and stared down at her.
She was a virgin after all.
Chapter 19
Paul was so surprised he almost pulled out of Juliana. Yet she gripped him with her lithe thighs, pulled him down until their bodies were touching along their entire torsos. He was buried in the heat of her, felt her breasts like hot brands in his skin.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Juliana—”
“Do not stop—please.”
It was the desperation of that final word that at last sank into his brain. The deed was done and could not be changed. She’d let him think—
But then she started tilting her hips, bringing his cock in deeper, and letting it slide out. He shuddered, and the last of his control was gone. She hadn’t wanted to be treated as a virgin, so he didn’t, thrusting into her over and over, feeling like he went deeper and deeper, losing himself in their shared moans. He kissed her openmouthed, his tongue mating with hers as they mated below.
He felt her every shudder, knew when her pleasure was cresting by the urgent way she held his hips, guided him against her. It took everything in him to remain on the edge of his own need, waiting for her. When at last she cried out, he used his mouth to silence her, and sought his own release.
At last he braced himself on his elbows, their perspiring bodies still flattened together, his breathing barely in control.
Lifting his head, he stared down at her. “Juliana, you lied to me.”
Her smile was catlike and contented as she undulated her body beneath his, so warm and slippery that they slid sensuously against each other. He was hard again inside her, his mind leaving him, his need for her overtaking everything else.
But he flung himself to the side of her and covered his face with his forearm as he tried to regulate his breathing.
“That was … that was …” she began, but could find no words, only laughed softly as if to herself.
He felt her roll onto her side and drape herself along him, tormenting him.
“That was sex,” he said, his voice harsh with denial of his body’s demanding needs, “and you’d never had it before.”
“I never lied,” she insisted, trailing her fingers through his chest hair and following the path lower.
He tensed. “You led me to believe—”
“You believed what you wished to believe, and that was fine with me. I didn’t want you to think of me as a helpless virgin.”
Though he gritted his teeth, how could he deny her logic?
“And as you can tell, I knew of everything that was going to happen between us.”
“How the hell did you know that? Surely the League didn’t—” He broke off, aghast, halting her curious exploration.
“It did not happen as you seem to believe. After you left, a new recruit thought I was not in the League for the same reason as he, that I must want to … be with men.”
“What happened?” Paul asked flatly, already telling himself to remain calm.
“He tried to take advantage of my ignorance.”
Gritting his teeth, he stared at her, feeling hot with remorse. He kept his voice quiet, controlled, as he said, “Just tell me, Juliana, if you can bear it.”
“When I fought him off, he realized my innocence, and apologized.”
Paul snorted. “Knew he’d be thrown out on his ass—at best—for daring to hurt one under the League’s protection. What is his name?”
“I will not tell you,” she said primly.
Although she was anything but prim as she continued to stroke his chest. She was soothing him, distracting him, and he took her hand in his again, not wanting distractions.
“How can you defend him, Juliana?” he demanded. “He tried to—”
“He misunderstood, and in his regret, he arranged for my … unusual education.”
“You were educated in lovemaking,” he said slowly, with disbelief.
She grinned mischievously. “Aye!”
“By whom?” he demanded.
“Not a Bladesman, if that is what you’re thinking. They took me blindfolded to an elderly woman somewhere outside the League fortress. She taught me what to expect, what to do. I even know methods of preventing conception, and carry the necessary herbs. You need not fear there will be a c
hild from this night.”
He stared at her, speechless. A child?
“The League wanted me to understand the dangers, be able to control any situation.”
“And any man.” He thought about the wonders her mouth had performed, and knew he would have done anything she wanted.
She laughed. “You sound upset.”
“You may feel in control, knowing what to expect, but Juliana, it means you can use such methods in persuasion.”
“I have not done that, Paul, and I do not intend to.”
“You allowed me to believe you were experienced. What about the next man?”
Her smile faded, and she searched his eyes with her own. He’d said something wrong, but wasn’t quite sure what.
She shook her head. “I did not treat you as just any man, Paul. This was my first time, and it meant a great deal to me.”
She rolled away from him and reached for her night rail on a chair nearby.
Paul’s guilt almost threatened to choke him. “If I’d stayed with the League, acted as your protector, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t have lost your innocence about the motives of men so soon.” But then again, when one’s father was betrayed, she’d already lost so much.
He almost told her all of it then, but she put a hand on his chest and smiled.
“Paul, I do not blame you for what another man did. And although I could never make the same choice you did in leaving the League, I understand now why you felt you had to make it. I could have run from the League after being attacked, but it was my choice to remain, for I believed in their mission above all else.”
He nodded, not understanding his conflicting feelings of sadness and yearning. He didn’t want to think about it, stopped her before she could don her night-clothes.
“So you received many lessons?” he asked, reaching to cup her breast.
She sighed with pleasure even as she grinned. “Aye, many.”
“I need a lesson.”
“I noticed.”
Faking outrage, he rolled her onto her back. And then she rolled him onto his back, sat on his stomach and held his arms above his head. He groaned.
She looked over her shoulder at his groin. “I was told men need time to recover. I see that is not the case.”