Kendrick watched the young girl walk away with a purposeful step. Her saucy hips sashayed beneath the rich red fabric of her gown. Her movement caused his mind to create all sorts of images as to the body beneath the rich material. Never had he seen a more beautiful woman. A perfect nose was nestled between twin orbs of blue while underneath a set of rich plump lips begged for his kiss. He most certainly did not anticipate her beauty. For a moment, she took his breath away, appearing like an angel sent straight down from heaven. It did not help matters that the tops of her breasts strained against the material of her gown, calling to him like a beacon. If only I could steal a few minutes away with her and unfetter those milky globes ... His mind stopped. If he continued, it would bring on sheer madness.
Her golden hair was pinned up in various fashions, intertwined with bits of ribbon and pearls. Curls cascaded down on either side of her face, framing the creamy countenance. He could do nothing but hold his breath. For one wild moment, he imagined her body crushed beneath his, arching as he dove into paradise. Aye, and she will, gamble be damned.
* * * *
The stringed and fluted music, enticing and melodious, rose high in the air and encouraged all to make merry. After a few melodious strains, Isabeau could not help herself. She rose from her place behind the food-laden dais and joined the dancers on the floor. Alone for a few moments, she enjoyed herself until a young nobleman from the neighboring village emerged from the crowd. He was about her height with crimson hair and a boyish, crooked smile. Bowing low, she took his hand and led him into a sedate pavane. They moved in a dream like fashion and came together at leisure filled pace as dictated by the dance. As they made a turn, Isabeau felt prickles dance up her spine, signaling someone was watching her with great interest. Who could it be?
She turned to her left, not sure of who it was. Her gaze swept around the room in search of the perpetrator and noticed no one in particular. Why did she feel this way?
Then she looked to her right. What she saw made her blood turn to ice in her veins.
The Duke of Kent lounged his large frame in a casual stance against a thick pillar, his dark, his mysterious eyes narrowed to slits as they trained on her. Muscles flickered angrily in his chiseled jaw as one corner of his full lips pulled into a half grin. Now and then, he raised a goblet of wine to his lips, his menacing gaze remaining solely on her. Out of reaction, she pulled away from her partner as though the boy’s touch scalded her. Why did she feel as though she’d committed a crime?
She shook her head and resumed her innocent dance with the youth. They turned again only to discover a dark, hulking presence in their path. Isabeau drew in a sharp breath. The Duke of Kent stood with his mammoth arms crossed over his wide chest, his thick legs splayed out as if to prevent any possible escape. She peered up. His sensuous lips drew into a charming smile as his gaze raked over her body. Isabeau shivered. Why did he pay her this attention when she clearly did not want it?
His gazed flicked to the nobleman who seemed too scared to move, jerking his midnight colored head sideways. "Move out of the way, boy."
The youth paled. "How … how … dare you…." His stare raked nervously over the Duke’s form. Isabeau trembled. Would there be bloodshed tonight?
The Duke's seductive grin gave way to a devilish one as though the man scented blood. His dark eyebrow shot upwards as a large, bronzed hand slipped to the beautifully jeweled, ornate hilt of the sword strapped to his side. "You wish to challenge me?"
The young lord’s fire tainted head trembled with anxiety. "Nay, I do not," he mumbled and turned and bowed to her. "Princess, we shall resume our dance later." Nervous steps took the man from her presence.
Her anger exploded. "How dare you do this me? I am not some servant you can order around!" She whirled around and managed to make it nearly to safety before he caught her in the arch of a doorway. There was no one around to help her. Everyone’s attention was focused on the dancers.
He clamped a hand on her wrist, halting her progress, spinning her around until she came up hard against his chest.
Steady throbs of mixed emotions pounded at her temples as the near proximity of him fed the fire within. In a silent gesture, his tanned finger reached out and graced the underside of her chin, tilting her head upwards. "You truly are a beautiful woman, Princess. Perhaps later...." His experienced lips captured hers in flurry of ale induced ardor, his thick arms wrapping around her tightly. His tempting tongue teased the corners of her taut mouth, searching for entrance. For a moment, she held out against the barrage on her senses but she was weak. In no time at all, her lips relaxed and gave him the entry he so desired. Expertly, he explored the cavern of her mouth, encouraging her tongue into play. Clumsily, she joined in the dance, feeling the warmth of his breath in her mouth. Shivers of newfound feeling shot up her spine and thrummed through her limbs where it exploded in a fury. Her knees weakened even more. She would have fallen had the Duke not strapped his strong arms around her waist.
Her practical sense clawed its way through the hazy cloud of new emotion in her mind and emerged. Putting her hands on his chest, Isabeau pushed with all she had in her. The Duke stumbled backward as surprise registered on his face. It serves him right for taking liberties he had no right to. She wiped his kissed away with the back of her embroidered sleeve. "Never accost me in that way again, you fiend!"
The Duke stepped forward, his determined gaze boring through her soul and nearly melting her defenses. "There will come a time, Princess, when all you crave is my touch. From this night forward, you belong only to me. That kiss should have demonstrated it to everyone present." His voice was low and seductive, the rich timbre turning up the intensity of the womanly flame alive inside of her. Aye, now I can see why he charms the women so.
Isabeau laughed in a soft tone and hoped the anxiety of being this close to him did not bleed through her voice. "Nay, I belong to no man, especially to you. Be gone with you and never darken my presence with yours again." She turned once again only to find his grip was still on her wrist.
His wild grin grew wider. "You do belong to me. I knew that from the first moment I saw you and so do you. Otherwise why did you react so quickly when you found me gazing at you?"
Isabeau looked away for a moment in an effort to hide her embarrassment. Why did she act so? She did not even know the Duke, let alone belong to him! She held her chin with a defiant pout. "You surprised me, ‘tis all. Go back and drown your madness! I wish to have nothing to do with you!" Steady throbs of emotion banged her chest as the heat from his strong hand seared the skin. Somehow she must get away from him before her heart burst!
His grip remained strong. "Aye, you will, Princess and ‘twill not be long now." A snide smirk spread across his lips and fired her anger. Her hand clenched at her side, the curved ends of her nails digging into her palm. How dare her treat her like this!
Before she could stop herself, Isabeau’s hand rose and struck him full across the face. The Duke’s head recoiled then resumed its previous position, his gaze dripping with a mixture of anger and desire. His hand rose and rubbed the area in a devilish fashion. "You will pay for that, my dear, but ‘twill be a most pleasurable punishment, I assure you."
She pulled her wrist from his grip and stalked past him, back into the room where her former dance partner stood, surrounded by many of his friends. Casting one look over her shoulder, Isabeau stared at the Duke as unabashed fury swam in across his face in ripples. His hand remained at his burning cheek where it rubbed in gentle, slow circles. Good, let him look at what he cannot have Extending her hand, the nobleman took it and kissed it tenderly, all under the Duke’s gaze. Inwardly she smiled. She could play the game just as well too.
* * * *
Kendrick’s heart pounded hard in his chest as the blood sang in his ears. Stunned disbelief thrummed throughout his body. How dare she strike him like that?
His skin burned with the fury of the slap. Flickers of ardor rose into a steady, fu
ll roaring blaze. Never before had a woman struck him in such a manner! For all the women he had enjoyed over his life, the kiss of this one affected him strangely. She is no different than any other woman yet there is something about her that I wish to possess. Most of the time, it had only taken either the sound of his voice or a certain look to get a woman to drop the guard surrounding her demure behavior. This one remained unaffected and wanted nothing to do with him. What made her so different?
Kendrick watched as Isabeau offered her hand to the young man, her eyes locked with his as a most bewitching smile swept across her lips. Nay, she could not offer herself to anyone but him! Apparently, his words meant nothing to her. Aye, this girl is enrapturing me beyond belief. Kendrick shook his head viciously in order to dismiss the silly notion. No woman would ever own his heart again.
* * * *
With the approach of dawn, revelers drifted away for secret trysts in unoccupied chambers or to search for a place to sleep off the effects of the ale. Isabeau longed for neither. All she wanted was her bed. Exhausted to the point of near collapse, Isabeau trudged to the stairs, the neat folds of her scarlet gown in her hand. She had one hand on the balustrade when a tanned hand shot out of the shadowy recesses next to the stairs, clamping hard onto her wrist. The grip was strong, dragging her into the darkness next to the stairs. Before she could scream, a wide, callused palm slipped around her mouth. "Be quiet, Princess, and I will remove my hand," the seductively low voice murmured in her ear.
She nodded with a swift motion and was released. "Who … who are you?" The moisture seemed to dry up in her mouth as blood pounded through her veins. Who dared to accost her like this?
The thick, leather clad arm locked around her waist drew her back to the tall form behind her. "Do you not realize who I am, Princess? ‘Tis Kendrick of Kent." His thumb caressed the soft outline of her ribcage and came threateningly close to her breast. Tingles of anger mixed with an unknown emotion burned through her, causing gooseflesh to break out under the taut claret hued material. I must resist all temptation, she thought.
Her heart pounded like a drum. "Only you would be low enough to do something of this nature. Let go of me, scoundrel, or else I shall have to call the guard to throw you in the dungeon," she hissed. Maybe the ice in her voice would be enough to deter his intentions.
Unfortunately it had no effect on him she saw when she cast a quick look back. The Duke merely moved his hand to her hair where he stroked it softly. That tender motion sent shivers of excitement through her body. "You do not wish to do that, Isabeau," he murmured close to her ear, his breath warm and inviting, "or else how would you have me at your disposal?"
"I do not wish to have you at my disposal. I wish to be in my own bed."
"That can be arranged, sweet Princess." His fingers danced in the hollow of her neck and moved in leisurely circles. The growing flame rose higher inside her. Isabeau closed her eyes and lost herself within his touch, her inner core near meltdown. You must resist his charms!
Isabeau’s eyes flew wide open as her better sense pushed its way through the swell of the ardor clouding her vision. "Let me go, milord. I am a chaste woman and not about to fall for the first man to murmur seductive promises." Her hands clenched at her sides as anger rose burning the filmy haze away. Why did he not understand what she told him?
She heard his slight grunt of amusement over her shoulder. "I do not murmur promises I do not intend to keep, Isabeau. Come, let me bring you into the full blossom of womanhood." Long, bronzed fingers trailed the underside of her chin with a sensuous motion, stroking her cheek as though he sculpted it from clay.
Isabeau sharply turned at the intimate mention of her name. The heat from her fury crept into her cheeks, warming them to a new temperature. "How dare you address me by my Christian name when I have not asked you to do so? You are the rake all the rumors purport! Leave this house this moment and never return!"
Invitation smoldered in the depths of his dark eyes as he brought her closer. "Nay, Isabeau, I will not leave when you wish me to stay so badly."
"I do not wish you to stay…."
The Duke watched her with smug delight. Without warning, his gaze dropped from her face to her more than ample bosom. "I think you do. Let me prove it to you." Before she could answer, the Duke encased her in his arms with his hands locked into the small of her back, his thumb caressing the divot created where her hips and backside met. Then, without warning, he drew her deeper into the shadows and sank low, as if there was a stool behind him.
"Let go of me," she ordered through clenched teeth, keeping her voice low lest anyone hear her.
"Not until I have given you a taste of what I offer," he murmured as he pulled her into his lap so that she straddled his muscular legs.
Isabeau tried to pull away, her hands smacking at his chest. "Unhand me!"
Unfortunately, he was too strong for her. "Not yet," he said huskily as he drew her down further. Underneath her gown, she felt his hardness push at her privates and she gasped. "That is what I thought," he said in a hushed whisper.
Slowly, he ground himself against her, arching higher. Despite the chaste warnings in her head, Isabeau remained motionless as the spears of excitement and desire raced up and down her spine. "Pl ... please ... stop this," she demanded in a ragged breath. "I am a chaste woman...."
"But you are a woman," he murmured as he thrust his hips up all the while holding hers down, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "One who is full of passionate heat." His hardness pressed against her nether lips, parting them a little and allowing some of the moisture to dampen her gown.
"N ... no," she gasped as he ground against her harder, her undergarments becoming damper with each motion.
"Aye, you are," he repeated.
Dimly she was aware of his hands under her gown as they traveled up her legs, stoking the sleeping dragon of desire into waking. "No, I am not, my lord," she said breathlessly. "Please let me go."
"Not until I have given you something to dream about on nights when your bed is empty."
His thumbs caressed her inner thighs lightly, moving in slow circles. Isabeau, too frightened of herself and him, waited to see what he was going to do, her breath caught in her chest. She knew she needed to stop but the emotions he brought out in her were like a heady potion pulsing through her veins, intoxicating her to the fullest. Instinctively, she rocked back and forth against the hard mound of his manhood, her juices making her moist.
The Duke chuckled lightly as his thumbs moved further in. She felt her lower lips part slightly under the soft linen of her undergarments, his fingers pushing the rough material against her. "You like this, do you not, vixen?" he questioned as he elicited more heavy breathing from her, the feel of the material against her wet skin maddening.
Isabeau could say nothing as the heady feelings washed over her again, making her forehead bead with perspiration.
He continued his ministrations, the pressure of his thumbs against her swelling nub maddening. She needed to get away from him but her body demanded she stay.
Sounds of parting fabric filled the air as he tore her undergarments, allowing his fingers better access. She tried to pull away from him but the Duke was far too quick for her. He slipped in one finger and caressed her moist slit with his free one. "You like this, little one," he murmured as he stroked her. "Do not deny it."
Isabeau's heart sped up, increasing her breath and making it more difficult to get him to stop. "P ... please ... my lord ... you must stop...." she begged as he continued his ministrations, his finger nearly pulling out of her before diving deep back inside.
"There will be a time, Princess, where there will be more than my finger inside of you," he promised as she collapsed against him a little, her legs becoming weaker. "You will enjoy it more than you do now."
She could not get the air to stay in her lungs for any reason. As his hand moved, she could feel her muscles clamp on his finger and hold him hostage, making him
draw a deep breath in surprise.
"I see my little vixen knows how to please a man already despite the fact that you are a virgin," he said in a hushed whisper. "You will know how to further please a man once I have taught you more." With that, he penetrated her deeply all the while his thumb manipulated her swollen nub. "You do not know how much I wish to taste you now...."
She grew dizzy for a moment as the sensations all came crashing down into one wave, washing over her and making her weak. Isabeau collapsed against him, her breath raspy. "What have you done to me?"
The Duke's scented hands swept out from underneath her gown and captured the sides of her face and tilting it up to meet his eyes. "I have given you your first taste of heaven," he told her. "Perhaps there is more you wish to taste?"
Before she could answer, the Duke took her hand and guided it down his tunic clad belly and beneath the gown covering them both. He placed it on his hardness, a pulsing staff waiting for release. "Touch me, Isabeau," he begged in a soft murmur, his breath hot against her ear.
"No ... I ... cannot," she whispered, trying to pull her hand away.
"Aye, you can, little one," he moaned against her cheek as he slipped her hand inside of his tight breeches. "Feel the man that I am."
The head of his manhood was already wet, perfectly formed. Out of curiosity, her hand traveled down further and felt the length of his silken member, the skin taut. "Move your hand like this, Isabeau," he said softly against her as he showed her what to do. "Ahhh, that is it...."
He moaned softly as she moved her hand around his manhood, his crisp fleecy private hair soft as it brushed against her knuckles. Her excitement grew as his did, producing the wetness between her legs as much before. The scent of their juices mingled in the air, adding a certain ambiance to the shadowy den.
Then, without warning, she felt him shudder as a sticky substance erupted from him. Immediately, his lips sought out her neck. "Oh, Isabeau, you do not know how you fire my blood...."
Her senses returned in a flurry, bringing with it shame and embarrassment. Isabeau jerked herself up and looked at him in the dim shadows. "Why did you do this?"
Desires Promise Page 3