His fingers tangled in the long hair curling down her back. The thick, damp strands were soft and teased his fingers. His head spun as though he’d drunk too much fine wine, yet still he thirsted for more.
For a brief moment, thoughts of justice and vengeance threatened his pleasure, but then she sighed. At that small sound, the rising tides of his desire crashed through him and washed away the dark thoughts. He cupped her cheek, turning her head ever so slightly to better fit her mouth to his.
How could he have known she would make him feel like this? The odd mix of pleasure and pain, the desire to protect and pillage all at the same time, overwhelmed him.
He pulled his lips from hers. Her whimper of protest speared straight to his groin. He pressed kisses along the delicate line of her jaw before continuing on to the tender flesh of her neck, hoping to reassure her that he had no intention of stopping. She arched toward him, and he pressed her hips into his, aching with need. He kept up his gentle assault of the slim column of her neck, then moved to her ear.
“Please.”
Her quiet plea disarmed him. His body pulsed as she moved against him, swaying to a rhythm to which he couldn’t help but respond. “Do you know what you ask?”
“Aye, I do,” she whispered, her tone strong and confident, at odds with her obvious inexperience. Her brown eyes held his, no sign of doubt in their heated depths.
He could hardly think, could barely remember the reason he had yet to make her his. It held little importance now. All that mattered was her.
Now.
In this moment.
In this simple cottage with the fire warming them, and the rain pouring down.
This, Elizabeth thought, was the man she’d thought lost to her. This tender, caring man who’d ridden after her through the storm was the man who’d nearly captured her heart at Amberley. She worried for a moment at the idea of ‘nearly’, for she no longer thought it applied.
The passion coursing through her should’ve shocked her with its power. But all her mind could grasp was how right it felt to be in his arms. Nicholas shifted his attention back to the sensitive skin of her neck just below her ear, and she shivered with need.
Could this truly be happening? she wondered. Or would he change his mind as he had before? She knew she should push him away now, before he hurt her again with his harsh words. Yet she couldn’t find the will to stop him, only desire. Desire that overwhelmed any rational thought.
While his hands had held her with such care moments before, now his touch held less patience, nearly rough as he caressed her. Rather than frightening her, she felt wanted and aroused by his demands.
He lowered those hands from her hips to cup her bottom, massaging there. She couldn’t help but move her hips against him in the same motion he used to caress her. Then, he continued upward, skimming the sides of her waist to rest below her breasts. His thumbs shifted up and her breath caught.
Yes, she thought. Touch me there. Her breasts were heavy and ached with need. She lifted her arms higher to run her fingers along the thick muscles of his shoulders beneath his cloak, permitting him better access to what he sought.
As he rewarded her with his touch, a gasp escaped her lips. He brushed the backs of his fingers against her hardened nipples, then cupped her breasts in each hand, gently rubbing and squeezing. A spiral of heat shot through her, spreading until it filled her, making her weak with need.
She wanted more of this feeling, some way to assuage the ache deep inside her. She offered her lips to him again, part of her unable to believe that she was here in his arms at last. She moved her hands down to his tunic, the feel of the soft linen making her more anxious to touch his bare skin. With clumsy fingers, she undid the broach that held his damp cloak and let it fall. Still, that wasn’t enough.
Impatient, she pulled at his tunic to untuck it from his chausses, at last reaching the bare skin underneath. With one smooth motion, he removed his tunic, much to her delight.
“Oh, my.” Once again, she was overwhelmed at the perfection before her. His chest, broad shoulders, and arms were corded with muscle. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered in awe, trailing a finger over his sculpted chest.
Those muscles rippled under her touch.
Delighted at his reaction, she grew bold, caressing his shoulder, his chest, dallying on his nipple, surprised at the hardness she found there.
He hissed in response, then bent his head to kiss her hungrily.
She answered him, rising up on her toes as she ran her fingers through his wet hair. The rough stubble on his cheeks thrilled her. The power she sensed him restraining as he touched her made her wonder just what it would take to unleash that self-control.
Brave now, eager to see how he’d respond, she ran her fingers over his chest and lingered at his waist when he caught his breath yet again. She explored there, trying to understand exactly where her touch caused the most reaction. Eager to try other areas, she eased away from his kiss to press her lips to his cheek, then down his neck. When she neared his ear, he shuddered.
Pleased with his response, she continued her assault, adding a caress to his chest before trailing her hands down to the top of his chausses.
He grabbed her hands and held them tight.
Her heart stuttered. Had he changed his mind again?
“We shall move slowly, Elizabeth,” he said with a smile.
“I only want to please you,” she said as relief filled her.
“You please me overmuch.” He cupped his hands along her face. “I would also pleasure you.”
Heat filled her cheeks. If he only knew how much he pleasured her. “You do.”
He bent down to retrieve his cloak, and she held her breath. Surely he didn’t intend to leave now. “Truly, you do,” she said, willing to say almost anything to keep him with her.
He rose with cloak in hand. “I want to please all of you.” With one smooth motion, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed as though she weighed no more than a feather. He set her down to spread his cloak upon the narrow bed and turned back to her, pulling her to him.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Would they truly make love at last? She lifted her hand to his cheek and kissed him, relishing in her new found freedom. She shifted against him but paused as doubt filled her. Wasn’t she acting the seductress he’d accused her of? Nay, she wanted only to please him. That couldn’t be wrong.
The low growl in his throat gave her the answer she needed.
Then it was her turn to catch her breath when he captured her lips with his. She couldn’t doubt his passion as he kissed her heatedly. She felt his hand on her bare thigh though she hadn’t noticed him lift her gown.
His hands moved over her skin as though to familiarize himself with her every curve. The aching sensation within her spread, and still she wanted more.
His fingers danced higher, and she pulled her lips from his, needing to breathe. He gave her no pause as he scattered kisses along her jaw. His fingers continued to explore until their movements captured her entire focus.
“You are exquisite, Elizabeth.”
A lump formed in her throat, for in that moment, she truly believed he thought her so. If only he thought her more than that, if he could see her on the inside, if he could come to care for her, but for now, it was enough.
It was a beginning.
She offered him her lips, unable to form the words to respond.
She wanted to become one with him, to make their marriage true. Surely they could form a bond and work through their differences if they united in this way.
He moaned again, but this time it sounded as though he were in pain. His shoulders tensed; his hands trembled. “Nay.”
Her heart stopped. Dear heavens, what had she done wrong?
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Not now,” he murmured. He released her and held a hand to his head.
“Nicholas? What is it?”
Another groan eme
rged from his lips, much different from the one he’d made earlier. His forehead creased as he rubbed his brow.
She tried to push aside her hurt to determine what had gone amiss. Had he changed his mind? Had he been injured somehow?
“Please tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered as she caressed his arm.
“Hell’s teeth,” he muttered. He kept his hand over his face.
Convinced he was in pain, she waited as he quieted, the tension in his body easing slightly. Frightened at his odd behavior, she touched his cheek with gentle fingers. “Nicholas?”
He didn’t respond.
Elizabeth felt the distance between them spread like a chasm though they still touched. She played the last few moments back through her mind, wondering if she’d done something wrong. It was all a bit of a blur. Passion seemed to have the same effect as too much wine, making one’s memory dim and cloudy.
Determined to help if she could, she placed gentle hands on either side of his cheeks. “Are you unwell? Should I get help?”
He heaved a great sigh then opened his eyes, eyes that were clear, no longer burning with passion. His expression seemed resigned, sad even.
She breathed deep, relief that he wasn’t angry making her giddy.
Until she heard his next words.
“We must return home. At once.”
Devastated, she could only watch as he released her to pick up his tunic, her heart squeezing with pain at his rejection of her once again.
Chapter Seventeen
Nicholas rode through the gate of Staverton with Elizabeth by his side. The rain had stopped and the clouds had moved on, gracing another part of the country with their moisture. The cheerfulness of the shining sun seemed incongruous next to his foul mood.
He gave orders to lower the portcullis behind them and advised Stephen to put extra men on watch before continuing into the bailey.
“Would you give me the courtesy of explaining our abrupt departure?” Elizabeth asked.
What could he tell her that wouldn’t make him sound crazed? “A difficulty arose that I hadn’t anticipated,” he muttered.
The vision had only provided him with a glimpse of a scene, but had left him stunned. A man holding a knife at Elizabeth’s throat. He hadn’t seen the man’s face or any other details that might explain who he was or why he’d harm Elizabeth. The bits and pieces visions gave him frustrated the hell out of him.
Especially this one.
The protectiveness that had surged through him surprised him nearly as much as the scene had. Why couldn’t he contain these feelings for her when his mind so clearly knew he needed to keep his distance?
“I can only assume I’m the ‘difficulty’ you speak of,” Elizabeth said, her tone flat.
His behavior at the cottage had obviously both hurt and confused her. He tried to imagine telling her of his second sight. Nay. She’d think him some sort of monster as so many others had. If he couldn’t tell her of his vision, he couldn’t tell her of the man with the knife.
“Not exactly,” he said, well aware that wasn’t much of an answer.
His instincts told him a threat was imminent but he knew not from who nor when. He could think of no reason anyone would hurt Elizabeth. All he could do was keep watch over her. The best place to do that was within the protected walls of Staverton.
The memory of her in his arms made him shift in his saddle uncomfortably. Her passion had nearly undone him. She’d been more responsive to his touch than he’d dreamed a wife could be. Yet, he could hardly have finished what he’d started after that damned vision.
The timing of it was unbelievable. He couldn’t help but interpret it as some sort of sign that he wasn’t meant to make Elizabeth his. Perhaps he’d just avoided a huge mistake.
Or had he made one?
Hell’s teeth! The woman had him twisted in knots.
As they rode up to the stable, Thomas ran out to greet them, the relief in his face evident as his gaze rested on Elizabeth. “My lady!”
She looked surprised at the urgency in the boy’s tone. “Greetings, Thomas.”
“I’m very pleased to see you.” The boy gave a small bow, his eyes watering suspiciously.
Elizabeth’s mouth parted and distress filled her expression at the boy’s obvious concern. Before Nicholas could aid her, she slid off her horse and gave Thomas a hug. She bent down to look him in the eye. “Thank you for sending Lord de Bremont after me. That was very thoughtful.”
The boy nodded, his throat working hard. He ducked his head and took the reins of her horse. “My pleasure,” he muttered, then spun away to lead her mare inside.
Elizabeth turned to Nicholas with a puzzled expression as she rose.
He’d be willing to place a wager that she was surprised at how concerned Thomas was. Apparently, she didn’t realize how much all the servants cared for her despite her brief time here. Even he – Nay. He would not finish that thought. Not now.
“I’ll see how William fares,” she said, her voice quiet.
“I’ll accompany you.” Nicholas dismounted and tied his horse to a post outside the stable door, certain Thomas would return for it.
She sent him a questioning look at his suggestion. “Don’t you trust me to do so?”
“Aye, but I would see how he is doing as well.” He couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling deep in his stomach. He had no intention of letting Elizabeth out of his sight until she was inside, and he could be sure she was safe.
They started across the bailey in silence with Elizabeth lifting the hem of her cloak and gown to keep them out of the mud the rain had left behind. A shout from the gate stopped Nicholas mid-stride.
Elizabeth halted as well and looked at him curiously. “What is it?”
“Visitors.” Nicholas waited to see if he could hear what the guards said, wondering who it could be. Cottages stood between them and the gate, blocking their view, but Nicholas knew no strangers would be allowed admittance without reason.
Stephen appeared at the far end of the bailey, riding his horse at a full gallop toward Nicholas, mud flying. He slowed just before he reached them. “We have guests.”
“And who would that be?” Nicholas knew it was no friend from the displeased expression on Stephen’s face.
The man glanced at Elizabeth. “My lady, the man claims to be your cousin.”
Elizabeth looked taken aback. “Gerard? Lord Gerard Perry?”
“Aye,” confirmed Stephen.
She heaved a sigh then glanced at Nicholas. “I suppose he’s gotten word of our marriage. I’d better speak with him.”
“Not if you don’t wish to,” Nicholas advised her.
“Trust me. It’s better to get this over with. Gerard can be very...persistent.”
Nicholas decided she didn’t mean that as a compliment. “He’s your cousin?”
“Second cousin to be precise. On my father’s side. Though Gerard always claims a closer relationship with my family than second cousin normally implies.”
Nicholas frowned, wondering what she meant by that. Her comment made him curious about this man and his relationship with Elizabeth.
“Shall I let him in?” Stephen asked.
Nicholas turned to his wife. “Shall he?”
Elizabeth stared at him, her elegant brow arched. She seemed taken aback that he was allowing her to make this decision. Truth be told, he’d rather keep the gate closed, but it was her cousin.
She glanced down at her gown, which looked rather the worse for the wear after she’d ridden through the rain. Spatters of mud speckled the bottom half. Damp spots were still visible on the light fabric. She’d fashioned her hair in a loose braid before they’d left the cottage, but strands had escaped to curl about her face. She grimaced.
“Aye, let him in,” she said, seemingly resigned to her bedraggled appearance.
“Why don’t you go change and...” He paused, not daring to think of the other things she might do to make herself ready,
for that brought to mind her soft bare skin, long limbs and slender curves. All of which he’d so recently seen and touched in vivid detail. Damn.
Stephen cleared his throat and sent a questioning look at Nicholas.
Nicholas reined in his wayward thoughts. “Stephen can delay your cousin’s entrance for a time. We’ll have him shown into the hall when he arrives and wait for you there.”
Elizabeth frowned up at him, and he could almost hear her question. Why are you being nice to me now?
He had no answer. He only knew that he wanted to protect her from any possible harm. Surely she’d prefer to look her best when she greeted her cousin for the first time as Lady de Bremont.
That was all.
Nothing else.
*
Elizabeth sat down with a thump upon the bed in her chamber. Tired and chilled to the bone, she rubbed her temples to ease the nagging pain that had started soon after the conversation with the smithy’s wife and had returned three-fold since she and Nicholas had left the cottage. She tried to untangle what had happened there, but the task was impossible.
How could she have guessed how much would happen, how much would change in so short a time? Heat filled her cheeks at the memory of the afternoon.
With careful fingers she twisted her wedding ring upon her finger. She feared she’d done the worst thing: fallen in love with her husband. To open her heart to him, to allow herself to become so vulnerable to a man who found her attractive physically, but abhorred her so much that he couldn’t bring himself to make her his wife in full.
That was a horrible thing indeed.
The tears she hadn’t shed after his dismissal of her at the cottage filled her eyes at last. The worst of it was that she’d let herself hope. She’d let herself believe that his feelings for her had changed. How could she have so badly misread the signs he’d given? He’d been the one to pull her close, to kiss her until her head reeled. Why would he do that if he didn’t care for her?
Never could she have guessed at the way he’d made her feel – the passion he’d aroused in her, the feelings he’d evoked in her heart. And she’d made her enjoyment of it all quite clear. She closed her eyes at the memory of her wanton behavior. If he’d thought her a seductress before, what could he possibly think of her now? She knew his respect for her must’ve dropped like a stone in a deep well.
Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me Page 16