It was what she’d wanted to hear, but not at the same time. It still didn’t answer the question of why. His belief that she could do it herself had her shaking her head, it was beyond her capability to do something so monstrous. She was so out of her league already. Every day further into this insane plot she was pushing past what she’d thought she couldn’t do.
“I cannot…”
It translated to ‘will not’ but the semantics didn’t really matter, because she needed him either way. Needed him to do what she couldn’t do, if she could have done it herself she would have. She knew that now, her conscious would have been fine with it. She felt no guilt, only fear of being caught.
“You could, if you put your mind to it. You went to the trouble of roping the poor man’s brother into your plot… I bet you could do it. Wouldn’t that be a sight? I find the idea of you wielding a deadly dagger ravishing.”
It would be ravishing, forbidden and ravishing. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye even if her thoughts fell apart before the act could be taken due to her inexperience in such matters. “I would make a mistake.”
“Why do you say that? You say so as if killin’ a man is a difficult task.” His eyebrows rose, “all you do is stick ‘em with the pointed end? Avoid stickin’ yourself. Other swords are better suited for that task.”
She had never stabbed anything but the food on her plate and it was readily apparent she didn’t really seem thrilled by that idea. Not that she couldn’t do it, just that it was such an inelegant and grotesque action to take when one usually wore dresses and was typically only concerned with proprietary status. “Such a chore, are you making excuses for why you do not want to do the job? This hardly builds confidence in you? If I wanted to stab my husband like some animal I wouldn’t have searched you out in the first place. Is that how you kill every one of your marks? In such a simpleminded manner? I thought you were intelligent enough to come up with something craftier, something requiring some skill? I do not merely want him dead, I want to be free.”
Her fingers clutched at the sides of the tub, “Free of this castle, free of my constraints as his wife, free of suspicion… not fettered by the inept bumbling of a simpleton?!” He was grinning at her… why was he grinning at her like that?
“There’s the little minx… so much rage all kept up in that dainty little body. I wouldn’t tell you how I plan on killing your husband, it’d take away from your reaction, and we wouldn’t want that. I’m a simple man, m’lady… but I do know my way about killin’. You’ve nothin’ to worry your soft little heart over, save the venom for a better target.” His fingers sifted free of her hair and dropped to play in her bath water, though his gaze didn’t drop below her chin.
Her fingers trembled lightly, he was toying with her emotions and tangling her up with them. She didn’t know what to say, how to even out the turmoil she felt. “Boasts…” the whisper escaped her fervently, “All men do is boast… I’ll kill this this day, I’ll do this the other… I’m the best, no, the most skilled. All that ever comes out of a man’s mouth is boasting… and I have never been impressed. No, not by one… not a single one! I do not want to hear your promises, I want to see your actions. Spare your breath, your words enrage me. Doubtless you would say the same as all the rest… do you claim to be the most skilled? In bed? In fighting, in everything?”
Xavier’s lips pursed slightly as he seemed to seriously consider what she had said, “mathematics…” He said after a moment, “I’m fairly awful at mathematics, but then there’s really no use for them in my field. But I am the best I know at what I do, I killed the ones’at threatened my business. Could kill you too…” His hand disappeared from the side of the tub to retrieve his wicked sharp looking dagger, the metallic gleam of it dancing as it spun and somehow ended up biting into the curve of her throat just a little. “If I really wanted, caged birds are the easiest to kill, caged birds that don’t know how to use their claws are even easier. If all men do is boast, all women do is cower… even with all the power they wield.”
Even as her heart pounded, the wound on her throat stung slightly from the chill of the air that kissed against the dampness clinging to her still from the water. The solid feel of the knife at her throat something she’d never experienced in her entire life. Much like the tavern rising up in the midst of the storm with its scantily clad women and beckoning lights. It was just as foreign, and again she was out of her league. But she did not collapse at the threat, even if her mind was frozen, her emotions were not. She could not put on a polite face for him, could not employ trickery or flattery, nor did she want to.
Instead she found herself acting instinctively, if he thought her capable of killing then she was more than capable of self-defense. It wasn’t as though she dared call another in to save her. Her feet kicked and her hands splashed, water jumping up over her shoulder to hit him in the face even as her shoulder dropped a little and her body slid up against the side of the tub. A palm struck against his face with a sharp crack, wet skin making the sound of it louder than it needed to be. Then she was shoving at him, fair batting the blade away before she pushed up to her feet and lunged at him. If she killed him, then she would know she was capable of doing the deed herself. If a caged bird like herself that didn’t know how to use its claws could take him out, then obviously he was unfit to attempt to take the king's life on her behalf.
But even as she crashed into him, pinning him down to the cold stone floor, he was laughing. His hands up above his head, wet, ruddy hair in his glittering eyes. Laughing. At her. “My, I seem to’ve found myself in a predicament. A beautiful, naked woman is pinning me to the floor.” There was that devilish, crooked grin of his that had made her heart tremble the first time she’d seen it. “Mayhaps she’ll be merciful… better yet, mayhaps she won’t. Tell me, little bird, are you this vigorous in bed? Is that where your claws come out?”
She was in no mood to be merciful whatsoever, he had angered her. His laughter only compounded that and she ignored his words even as her wet body settled against him, soaking his clothes, she was stretching over him and reaching for the discarded weapon. She would show him what happened when he taunted her. Two could play this game. As her arm stretched to take hold of the knife, his own arms were suddenly around her body. Her weight thrown off as she was rolled over and found herself suddenly on her back, looking up at him with wide blue eyes full of shock and anger.
“I like this position better…” He hadn’t once stopped grinning, even as he pinned her hands up above her head. “You never did introduce yourself, rude don’t you think? For such a high born lady? Emeline is such a pretty name, though… doesn’t everyone know it?” Leaning closer his mouth touched against hers and she could feel the grin on his lips, feel the warmth of them. It called to something inside her that boiled right alongside her anger. He wasn’t hesitant about what he wanted at all, confidence was exuded from every breath and unlike Jeffrey and Harold when his body came to rest against hers… it fit. Every curve she had was answered by the firm muscle she could feel underneath his clothes. Even more so now that she was underneath him, it had her breathless, distracted.
“It is?” The question was flustered, off guard and it lacked her usual wit. She felt so simple, like some virgin girl that had just been tumbled into the hay with a local farm boy. The way he called her name pretty took precedence over everything. It was so difficult pulling the compliments out of his insults and vice versus. He was so damnably confusing.
“Aye, just like you are. Though you’re arguably a lot more’n pretty all naked and wet like you are…” One of his hands skimmed down her arm, continuing on down the side of her body to let his fingers fan out against her hip. “Do either of your fat noblemen treat you right? Goddess that you are?” The way his fingers curled into her flesh a little as he asked the question made it seem almost as though he was addressing it directly, as well as addressing her… even if his eyes still hadn’t left hers.
“No different than any other man would treat a wife he did not choose for love. But both would enjoy showing me off like some prize trinket… if that is what you mean? A docile keepsake until the shimmer of newness passes into aged cracks.”
She had quite forgotten the blade he’d nicked her with, her fingers had curled, her wrists caught up loosely in his fingers... and instead of frightened or upset she was soaking up the way his breath played against her skin and his body heat warmed her up. The way she shifted had his weight settling more fully against her, a leg moving between hers so that the roughness of his pants dragged against her enticingly. Her voice was raw with emotion even if the words she said were simple, a simplified statement of how things were. There was so much unsaid, so much that she could have said in answer to his question.
“And to think, so many young girls just dying to be where you are now. Not you, though I’d guess? Too much adventure in your spirit to be locked up… even if there are pretty jewels involved.” Those dark green eyes of his gleamed, catching the light from candles and refracting it back at her. Releasing her wrists from his grip, he planted that hand on the ground beside her head and let his other hand wander across her smooth stomach. “I knew a tavern girl once, looked a bit like you… they had her name herself after you and it cost two gold coins to fuck her. Doubtless that wished she was you, what with all the unseemly, rude types that frequented the place. I always wondered if your attitude would be as similar to hers as your face is, but I think you’re far stronger. Why are you here, caged up where nobody can see it?”
She stared back at him entranced, despite his uncouth words and her shock at his story the very idea another would want to be in her place had her fair shivering. The slight trembles catching at tense muscles and making her breath slightly uneven. She did not want to be here, even knowing others were jealous of her, she would rather know a hundred men, have a hundred more use her body than let Harold be the only man to touch her. She’d gotten the barest taste of freedom, of the fact that it didn’t have to be unsatisfying every time. Maybe if she were in that other woman’s position… maybe he would have been one of the ones who’d paid the two gold just to enjoy her body.
More than an answer that they both knew she found that burning in her mind, she had to know. “Did you pay the two gold?” Did you want me? Even before I knew you existed? Did you think of me like that? Desire me? The way she asked the question was hushed, the look on her face the complete opposite from offended or mortified. Instead her blue eyes were alight with her fascination, for how both of their worlds had collided. She felt hope, she hoped he had, she wanted him to. She wanted him now, wanted to listen to every story he could tell her and marvel at it. At how different it was from the superficial trivialities of her everyday life.
“Of course I did, I wanted to fuck her about as much as I want to fuck you. Enough to pay a couple gold pieces…. And then a third just for her to keep. I’m a generous man when I get paid.” His fingers had ventured up to her breast, teasing against the soft skin and playing against the gentled peak of a nipple. “Ironically though, if I fuck you… and then you pay me to kill your husband… it’s almost like you’re paying me to fuck you.”
She caught up her breath, “I have no choice… unlike her. No man would dare pay two gold to fuck me. I have to pay you to be here… to give me what I want. Else no one would care, would take the risk that comes with stealing a queen away from a king. I refuse to wait for something that would not ever happen… instead I will make it happen. A man’s greed is larger than his courage or his heart.”
“I’m not here because you’re paying me, in a roundabout way I am yes, but I’m here because I wanted to see you without all those baggy clothes on. Without the hood and the hushed tones. I’m right where I want to be… and it’s not greed that called me here. It was you.”
“Prove it, pay me two gold. Three even… for your generous heart.” Her eyes were alight, that coy sort of fire intensifying the crystalline blue of them. They avidly searched his face, her breath baited up to see what he would say to that. What he would choose to do.
“I pay after I take what I want, more like to get my money’s worth if every coin hangs in the balance. You want me to fuck you, just say it… or are you afraid of rejection?”
No man had rejected her, not a single one. Certainly not her husband and not Jeffrey. She had never set her sights on any others. So why was she afraid of him rejecting her? Her heart pounded, it made her giddy, made her faint with desire for him. Her hands were free yet they rested where he’d pinned them, just the memory of it weighing her body down like chains. Unrequited passion, it burned through her body, heated up her blood and after a moment’s hesitation she reached for him. Her fingers touching against his face, against the scruff of his almost beard. She’d wanted to touch him from the moment she’d met him but the constraints of her situation, of who she was and who he was should have kept them apart.
Had kept them apart at the time.
She let her fingers trace his cheekbones, marveling at the structure of his face, the compact flawlessness of his rugged features. It was so incredible, wanting to touch. She had not ever touched any man the way she touched him. In every one of her sexual escapades she’d been the one touched, not the one exploring. Every contact had been initiated by someone else. Yet there she was, caught up in admiration, the feeling so intrusive it weighed her heart down and put the slightest fragility into her touches. Her fingers went into his hair and unlike Harold’s it was cool and thick and it curled through her fingertips delightfully.
His expression was far more captivating than Harold’s as well, with the crooked grin and the awful gleam in his dark eyes. Head tipping into her touch his weight dropped onto her a little more, pinning her and grinding in the slightest despite that he was still clothed. Far too clothed. He needed to be as vulnerable as she was.
Her fingers curled tight in his hair and her eyes narrowed up at him, “undress yourself. Slowly, I’d like to watch.”
Surprise flitted through his eyes and then he was sitting back, eying her up and down. “I suppose that’s only fair, isn’t it?” A laugh escaped him even as he went about undoing the buttons of his shirt and pulling the drab cloth off of himself. He was as muscular as she’d suspected, abs defined but not grotesquely oversized, chest hair curled and the same shade as his hair. It had her breath catching up, had her grinning just a little herself.
“Do not forget your pants, those too.”
One of his eyebrows raised and he stood to unlace his breeches, painfully slowly, and then dark cloth fell free of his waist and he was just as bare as she was. She took her time to enjoy the sight. She had never enjoyed the sight of her husband and she had been spared the sight of Jeffrey. But with him… she could have been content to look upon his body every day. It wasn’t soft and paunchy from wealth, it was rugged and sun touched. Every scar and callous holding a story, the shadowed hint of muscle pleasing to the eye. She sat up, she couldn’t not, her hands gathered up underneath her. She wanted to touch.
“Come here.”
“As you wish, my Queen,” He seemed utterly amused with her commanding tone of voice, but he moved closer and sank to his knees again. Her hands moved towards him almost of their own accord, fingertips glancing against his chest and splaying out eagerly. Over muscle they traced, following the inclines of his body and enjoying the shape of him. The solidity, the firm way his breath pushed at her palms and the hair on his chest tickled at her fingertips. Her fingers curled a little and her nails dragged against him, down his stomach lightly, drawing a shudder up out of him. “Will we ever fuck or are you content to memorize every part of my body?” The attitude in his tone was wholly teasing, playful, but she couldn’t help the way she nailed him with a look.
“You are the only man I could stand to look at for longer than five minutes without feeling disgust? Or that I’ve ever touched. Do you think my husband has felt my hands on his body? He
has not… I will not. I refuse. Besides which, perhaps I should take as long as you to make a move? How long have you been here committing mine to memory instead of acting on it?”
Even as she spoke she moved, reaching out to catch at his shoulders and then climb into his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her body brushed up close to his, her breasts up against him so that every breath could be felt in rise and fall of their chests. Her hands went to his head again, delving into his hair as she rocked forward and kissed him full on the lips before he could respond to her.
“At least I want to remember you…” The mutter escaped her in a miffed tone of voice and then her legs were squeezing lightly at his sides, her weight shifting as she rubbed her body against his. Friction caused a thrill to play through her, his body heat was soaking into her pleasantly. She didn’t stop to see if he was amused or not, she didn’t care, didn’t want to know. Shoving at his chest, she pushed him back, her hair tickling past her shoulders as her eyes flashed. As his weight rocked back a little her body caught at his, her legs tensing even as her hips pushed into the firm feel of him. He was solid, a warm heat resting up against her core. Her body wept at the feel of it. It wasn’t anything she’d ever felt before.
Neither of the men she’d been with had been big enough to be felt with such clarity, big enough to make her ache pleasantly. She didn’t even have to reach down to adjust him, instead each rub against him had him pushing into her. A delicious slide in and out that went a little deeper each time until he was filling her up. Until her body was flush against his, tight against his, and her inner muscles squeezed tight around the feel of him. It had her fingers curling, her stomach clenching a little and then she lifted her hips up even as a groan escaped him. Triumph filled her as she rode him, each time her body dragged over him she felt him weaken a little more until he was on his back and her hands were clutched at his shoulder and her body was rising and dropping of its own accord.
Romance: Pummel Me: A Boxing Romance Page 67