Knight of Desire

by Knight of Desire (lit)

  He did seem to dawdle. Perhaps that was a sign of trouble. It made it harder and harder for her to keep her mind on something else. She sighed, at a loss.

  The platters were not yet cleared from the table when William stood and announced he was tired and would retire. The men exchanged glances, and one or two smothered a laugh. They stopped when she looked at them sharply, trying to discern the source of their amusement.

  When her gaze met Edmund’s, he tapped his finger next to his eye as if to remind her he was watching her. Hateful, hateful man. Then he dropped his gaze to her chest and lifted his eyebrow, just to annoy her. She put her hand over her chest and glared at him.

  “Catherine?” William was holding his hand out to her.

  She took it, glad to leave. She’d rather be lectured about having her hair uncovered than remain in the same room with Edmund.

  She had trouble keeping up with William’s pace. He was not as tired as he claimed. As soon as they reached their rooms, he shouted at the maid to leave and pulled her into his bedchamber.

  Belatedly, she realized he did not bring her upstairs to lecture her about headdresses.

  He barred the door, which made her feel anxious and trapped. Though he made no move to touch her, her heart was racing.

  “You looked so beautiful up on the wall, with your hair flying in the wind,” he said in a wistful voice. “It was just like when—”

  He stopped himself and did not finish the thought aloud. After a moment, he said, “ ’Twas nice to have a wife to greet me when I came home. It is new to me.”

  His kind words and soft voice calmed her a bit. He stepped closer but still did not touch her. She had the disconcerting feeling that he was waiting for her, that he wanted her to do something.

  “I want to be a good wife to you,” she stammered. “I beg your pardon. I should not have been outside with my hair down like a young girl.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. His breath was warm on her ear as he leaned down to whisper, “Take it down for me now.”

  She swallowed. “Unless you want me to call my maid, you will have to help me with the pins in the back.”

  He spun her around. With a deftness that showed experience she did not want to think about, he had the headdress off in no time. He shook her hair loose with his fingers; it felt good to have it down again. As he massaged her scalp, she closed her eyes. A small sigh escaped her.

  She was helpless to unfasten the long row of buttons at the back of her close-fitting gown, so he did that, too. Though she assured him she could manage the rest alone, he continued to help her undress. When the last garment came off, she sidestepped out of his reach and slipped under the bedclothes.

  She watched surreptitiously as he removed his own clothes. Except for his arousal—which she tried not to look at—he was quite beautiful. She liked the strong planes of his face; the long lines of his lean, muscled body; his large, capable hands. In the lamplight, the hair on his head and chest glinted gold and red.

  As he slid into bed, she wondered if it was possible to ever get used to the feel of a naked man beside her, the tingly feeling of skin touching skin from head to foot. He pulled her into his arms and let her rest there, her head against his chest. She loved this part. She could lie with him like this forever.

  She sighed—and immediately wished she had not. William took it as a sign he should begin what they were here for.

  Damn that Edmund. It was so confusing! She let William touch her in all the ways he wanted. She refused him nothing. Yet, tonight she felt a tension, an expectation. William wanted something from her, but she did not know what it was.

  William rolled on top of her, his weight on his elbows, and began kissing her face and neck. The warmth of his mouth and breath felt good on her skin. Should she tell him? But she remembered Rayburn slapping her so hard she saw stars when she had interrupted his efforts. And so she kept quiet.

  “I cannot do it!” William said, pounding his fists against the mattress. Abruptly, he rolled off her.

  Her shock was so great that at first she could do nothing. After a few moments of tense silence, she raised herself onto her elbow to look at him. He lay with his arms crossed over his face, as if warding off an attacker.

  “William?” She touched his arm with her fingertip.

  He rolled away from her and pounded his fist against the mattress again.

  God help her, what could she have done to cause him to behave like this?

  Sitting up, she gripped his shoulder and shook him. “William, what is it? What have I done?”

  When he still did not answer, she used all her weight to pull him onto his back to face her.

  “You must tell me, please,” she pleaded, but he kept his arms over his face, unable or unwilling to speak to her. “Whatever it is, I am sorry with all my heart.”

  She ran her fingers over the side of his face, but he rolled away from her again. Pressing herself against his back, she rubbed her hands up and down his sides and kissed his neck and shoulders, attempting to comfort him. Still, he made no response. Desperate, she crawled over him and wriggled under his arm until she was burrowed against his chest.

  She put her arm around his waist and patted his back. “It is all right. I am here,” she murmured, just as she would with Jamie.

  He took a long shuddering breath. She felt the tension of his muscles ease beneath her hands.

  “I do not know why I displease you so much,” she said against his chest. “You must tell me what I can do to remedy it.”

  William put his hand to her cheek and gave her a small smile that eased her heart. “I have wanted you to put your arms around me, and it feels as good as I imagined.”

  She blinked at him. “Is that all you require?”

  “Nay, ’tis not all, but it is a start.” His smile was slightly wider now.

  “What else?”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  This, too, seemed a fairly simple task. She touched her lips to his, then looked at him expectantly.

  “That is nice, but not quite what I want. Will you let me teach you how lovers kiss?” His smile had reached his eyes and was positively wicked now.

  Her confidence faltered. She felt out of her depth, but she nodded. She wanted to please him.

  His lips were soft and warm, and he kept them on hers for a long time. When she thought he was finally finished, he ran his tongue across her bottom lip. It was hard to breathe, and she opened her mouth. When he slipped his tongue inside, she gasped.

  The next time, she knew what to expect and opened her mouth to him. She had trouble thinking of anything except the kiss this time, though it went on even longer.

  He pulled back to look into her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me this time.”

  She swallowed back the surge of hurt rising from her chest. Why would he bring that up now? She dropped her gaze to his chest and said, “I promised you I would not run away again.”

  “That is not what I mean.” With a sigh, he pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “When I take you to bed, you let me have your body, but your mind and spirit are elsewhere.”

  He lifted her chin with his finger. “I do not want to have you like that anymore, Kate. I want you with me. All of you.”

  Her breath caught as she finally understood what he wanted. She was not at all sure she could do what he asked.

  “I had to, with Rayburn,” she protested. “I had to. There would have been nothing left of me.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and he rubbed it away with his thumb.

  “I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But you have no need to protect yourself from me. You can trust me.”

  He believed he told her the truth. Resolving to believe it, too, she nodded.

  He looked at her thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he rolled onto his back. Was he giving up on her so soon?

  “Sit up, sweetheart.”

  Feeling uneasy, she did as he asked. She felt embar
rassed and exposed—until she saw that his eyes were closed.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, waving his arm blindly.

  Curiosity vied with uncertainty as she gave him her hand. She felt his hot breath on her palm as he pressed it to his lips. Then he took her wrist and laid the flat of her hand on his chest.

  “I want you to touch me.”

  He guided her hand in a slow circular motion over his chest. The feel of the rough hair under her palm sent an unexpected sensation up her arm, right to her stomach. He released his hold and let his arm fall to his side. With his eyes still closed, he lay still, waiting.

  Hesitantly, she skimmed her fingertips over his chest. The corners of his mouth turned up. Encouraged, she shifted her weight so that she could use both hands. His breathing grew shallow as she ran her fingers in increasingly wider circles. She explored the textures of his skin, sliding her fingers over the dip below his collarbone, the coarse hair of his chest, the smooth skin at his sides.

  Because he relinquished control to her, the urge to escape did not overtake her. In fact, she was surprised to discover she liked touching him. He seemed all golden muscle beneath her hands.

  After assuring herself his eyes were still closed, she allowed herself a good look at his member. It was, after all, sticking out right in front of her. She kept her eyes on it as she drew her fingernails from his sides to the center of his belly. His sharp intake of breath startled her, and she looked up at his face.

  “Feels good,” he said on a long breath.

  Feeling more confident, she trailed her fingers over his hip bones, on either side of his shaft. She smiled when he shivered, enjoying the power of her touch.

  Leaning over him, she rubbed firm hands up over his chest and shoulders and sent featherlight strokes down his arms. His whispered, “God in heaven,” told her what she needed to know.

  She kissed his shoulder and was rewarded with a sigh. Pleased, she trailed kisses along his throat and rubbed her cheek against his chest. This time, it was she who sighed. Letting her hair drag over him, she inched her way down toward the flat of his stomach, dropping kisses along the way.

  She felt William’s hand rest lightly on her head, touching her for the first time since the start. As he ran his fingers through her hair, she rested her head against his hip, enjoying the sensation. Tentatively, she slid her finger over his shaft. He jolted half upright, jostling her head.

  She sat up straight and stared at him.

  “Sorry,” he said, touching her cheek. “I was not expecting it.”

  Her face hot with embarrassment, she averted her eyes.

  “Catherine, please,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “I would not have you feel shamed about what we do in bed, not ever. And certainly not for something that felt so good.”

  He gathered her into his arms and pulled her down to lay beside him. His breath was hot against her skin as he kissed her forehead, the side of her face, her hair. When he sucked on her earlobe and breathed in her ear, she pressed closer against him.

  “Here, touch me again,” he said, taking her hand.

  Before she could pull away, her hand was on his shaft again. Gingerly, she explored the surprisingly silky skin over the firmness underneath. His breathing changed as she ran her hand up and down its length. Breathing a little hard herself, she did it again. And again.

  He groaned and pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking against her skin. Her head fell back. Of its own accord, her body moved against his in rhythm with the movement of her hand.

  He grabbed her wrist. “No more. I cannot—” He broke off, apparently unable to form more words.

  She understood it was not displeasure that made him ask her to stop. If she had had any doubt, the deep kiss he gave her next removed it. She felt herself merging into him as she focused with every part of her being on that kiss, on his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth.

  She held on to him as he rolled her on top of him. When she lifted her head to smile at him, her hair fell in a curtain around his face. He kissed the tip of her nose. The feel of his chest against her breasts and the hardness of his shaft against her belly made it difficult to breathe.

  She closed her eyes as he stroked his hands up and down her back. When he moved them along the sides of her breasts, she felt it all the way to her center. She let him draw her into another long kiss before she forced herself to pull away.

  Rising to her hands and knees above him, she said with mock severity, “I thought I was to do the touching.”

  Obligingly, he dropped his hands. “Do what you will with me.”

  She leaned down to run her tongue along his collarbone and gasped when the tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest. It felt so good she did it again. Slowly this time.

  She forgot to reprimand him when large, warm hands covered her breasts. When he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, the sensation that gripped her was so strong she had to rest her forehead on his chest.

  She moaned in complaint when he stopped to lift her higher on the bed. Forgiveness came quickly as she felt the wetness of his tongue circle her nipple. At the same time, he took the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips swayed as she was drawn into a swirl of sensation. When he took her breast in his mouth and sucked, she squeezed her eyes shut against the jolt it sent through her. Nothing, nothing, nothing felt as good as this.

  Just when she thought nothing could divert her from the feeling of his mouth on her breast, she felt his fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh. He dragged his fingers up and down, each time coming closer to her center. The rampant sensations racing through her now were more than she could bear.

  Her body tensed with anticipation. Closer, closer. When his hand brushed the hair between her legs, a shiver went through her. All her concentration was on willing him to touch her again. When he barely brushed her a second time, she wanted to pound her fist against the bed in frustration.

  Finally, finally, he pressed his fingers to the aching spot. It was as if he had known all along exactly where she needed to be touched and how. Her body began to move against his hand.

  He took hold of her hips. Every part of her skin that touched him tingled as he pulled her along his body. He eased her down until the sensitive place he had been rubbing with his hand touched the tip of his shaft.

  She stiffened.

  “You have trusted me this far,” he said, his voice tight, strained. “Trust me for the rest.”

  Putting his hands on either side of her face, he pulled her into a kiss. Their tongues danced together in a rhythm her body knew. The kiss was wet and hot and not enough. This time when the tip of his shaft touched her, she pressed against it. She wanted to be touched there, to feel him hard against her.

  “Do not leave me, Kate,” he rasped in her ear. “Do not leave me.”

  As he slid inside her, she inhaled at the unexpected rush of pleasure. They lay nearly motionless, breathing hard. Her body was tight, tense, aware of every inch of him inside her. He kissed her face and hair. She resisted when he pushed her up by her shoulders, regretting any distance between them.

  “You are so beautiful.” The strength of the desire in his voice wiped away any awkwardness she felt at finding herself sitting astride him. And the pressure inside her felt so good.

  He grasped her hips again. As he showed her how to move, the heat in his eyes almost burned her skin. Soon, her body found its own rhythm, and she was moving helplessly against him.

  She leaned over him, needing to kiss him now. The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest as their mouths joined. She pressed her hips against him as he pushed up against her. Finally, she had to break away to breathe. She leaned back, losing herself wholly to the movement, aware of nothing but the powerful sensations emanating from where their bodies were joined.

  “Slower, Kate,” he begged. “Slower, please.”

  But she ignored his plea. The sensations pulsed through her, nearly blinding
her. As they overtook her, she fell forward and grabbed on to his shoulders. From a distance, she heard screaming as spasms of pleasure shook her.

  “God have mercy!” she said as she collapsed over him.

  He folded his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest. When she gasped, “I cannot breathe,” he eased his hold and ran his fingers lightly over her back. Her skin was so sensitive that she shivered. Her body spasmed as she realized she could still feel the full length of him deep inside her.

  As she listened to his rapid heartbeat against her ear, she tried to piece together what had just happened to her. A wave of embarrassment hit her.

  “Was that me screaming?” she asked in a whisper.

  With an inarticulate groan, he gripped her shoulders and pressed himself deeper inside her. His answer came in huffs as he thrust against her. “Aye. Aye. Aye.”

  She pushed herself up to lean against him, arms extended, and moved with him. The ache inside her grew. His need, his urgency became hers. Faster and harder, he slammed against her. She felt it coming again and wanted to beg him not to stop. And then she felt him surge inside her and heard him cry her name. Triumphant, she went over the edge with him.

  Catherine felt light-headed from lack of sleep as she lay awake, watching the sleeping form of her husband in the gray light of early dawn. She sighed in contentment. It had been a long and wondrous night.

  William taught her the joy that is possible between a man and a woman, the miraculous giving and receiving of pleasure. But she also learned something he did not intend to teach her. Something, she was certain, he did not yet know himself.

  “Do not leave me, do not leave me,” he whispered each time he was deep inside her.

  She sensed the core loneliness in him. She understood his words meant more than that he wanted her fully with him in bed.

  This physical pleasure, astonishing as it was, was only the beginning of what he needed from her.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the first time in his life, William dreaded going to war. He did not want to be away from Catherine for a single night.