“Indeed,” he said. He made no move to take the bottle from her although his eyes roved from the top of her head, moving downward, and lingering for a moment on her breasts before continuing his full perusal of her.
She could sense the heat from his eyes, and even though her body began to tingle and flush, it was near impossible for her to tear her eyes away from the man standing in front of her.
He had gotten rid of his arming doublet and wore a close hugging hose that clung to his hips and muscular thighs.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry. Unable to look him in his face, she chose instead to put her focus on his broad, sculpted torso. But that proved a terrible mistake. She felt a strong urge to reach out and run her hand over him, touching the smooth skin on his rippling chest and muscular arms.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
She looked up and saw amusement dancing in his eyes.
If it was possible, she could feel her face heat up even more. She quickly lowered her eyes, horrified that she was caught staring. “‘Twas a mistake to come here,” she said, her voice faint.
“Leave us,” Jonathan said to the squire. Albert nodded, and ducked out of the pavilion as if the canvas structure was on fire.
With the departure of the squire, an awkward silence hung in the air. He studied her for a long moment, watching her nervously chew her bottom lip. “I believed that you were more injured than you are,” she said at last. Her grip on the bottle tightened. “It seems that you do not need this salve after all, and I was wrong to come here and disturb you.”
“Nay, don’t leave,” he said, his voice turning harsh. When he saw her stiffen, he lowered his tone, softening it. “I may have need of your magic salve after all. In truth, my shoulder pains me.”
He tilted his shoulder for her to see, and she drew in a sharp breath. The wound was horrendous.
“How —”
“I fell on some wooden fragments,” he said interrupting her before she could form her question. She seemed frozen on the spot, staring at the wound with disbelief. It was obvious that his quick reactions to her sudden appearance caused the wound to bleed again.
He raised one eyebrow. “You came to help me, did you not?”
Once again, she extended her arm and offered him the bottle. “You will need to apply a small amount,” she said.
“Then I will need your assistance,” he said, making no attempt to move. Instead he was gazing at her with a warm light in his eyes.
She swallowed. “I —”
“Please,” he said. “‘Twould help me greatly if you would apply it on me.”
He looked at her expectantly, his expression soft.
She gestured to the makeshift pallet near his feet. “It might help if you lie down, sire,” she said in a shaky voice. “‘Twill make it easier to spread the balm.”
Once again, Rowena forced her legs to move forward, each step becoming more difficult as if her legs somehow become entangled in heavy chains. And even when she stood before him, every instinct warned her of danger, telling her to flee while she could still think coherently.
But he didn’t pounce on her as she feared. Instead he complied with her request without argument and lay down on his back. She bent over his injured shoulder, and shook her head as she inspected the wound. “The skin has broken from the stitching,” she said. “I will need to clean the wound again before I cover it with the ointment.”
“My squire has a clean cloth and fresh water over there,” he said, indicating to the table near the pallet.
She moved to get the water and cloth. Then taking the cloth, she placed it into the basin, wringing it out before washing the blood from his shoulder. Next, she dipped her fingers in the small bottle and smeared the oily substance along the wound.
He hissed.
Startled, she jerked back her hand. “Does it hurt, sire?” she asked, confusion and concern filling her voice. Perhaps she took the wrong vial, she thought frantically. Now he must be convinced that she came to finish him off after all. Sniffing the bottle, she breathed in the familiar sharp scent of Ava’s herbal mixture. “I do not recall anyone feeling pain after the application of this liniment,” she said in a rush. “If anything, the ointment is supposed to numb the wound, and knights tell us all the time that they experience no pain after the application.”
“‘Tis not the wound that pains me,” Jonathan said in a gruff voice. It was something far more physical although that wasn’t something he could tell a maiden. But what kind of maiden would go to a knight’s tent without a chaperone?
At the gentle stroke of her fingers, he felt like groaning from the sheer pleasure of her touch. He tried in desperation to focus on something else, but the heady smell of her lavender perfume filled his senses, wreaking havoc on his control. And as much as he tried to restrain himself, his desire for her, which had been temporarily forgotten, became more intense, more obvious. Was it because he hadn’t been with a woman for so long? He shifted uncomfortably on the pallet and brought up one knee, acutely aware of his mounting arousal.
“Do you have pain elsewhere?” she asked. Even with his eyes closed, he could sense her assessing him.
He opened his eyes and gave her a tight smile. “Not really,” he said. Her eyebrows knitted in puzzlement as she applied another layer of the salve.
The light touch of her fingers made him let out another barely contained groan.
“I am not sure why you are experiencing so much discomfort from the balm,” she said, biting her lip. She placed the lid back on the bottle and tightened it. “However ‘tis done.” She sat back on her heels, searching his face. “Do you think you will be all right?”
“Nay,” he said.
She reached for the cloth that she had used earlier. “Shall I wash it off? Perhaps this balm is defective,” she said. “Ava has never said but it could be that this mixture is too new and needs to brew longer.”
He shook his head and pushed himself into a seated position. He tried to think of something else besides her intoxicating nearness. It was impossible. “I think other parts of me need your ministrations,” he said finally, lowering his leg and gesturing to the rigid evidence there.
At first Rowena didn’t know what he was talking about and looked at the area that he indicated. Then comprehension dawned on her face when she saw the swollen bulge in his hose. He made no attempt to hide it. She gasped in mortification, scrambling back and all but toppled over in her haste. Her cheeks burned bright red as she averted her face. “I do not think this liniment can help you with that problem,” she said.
He shook his head and let out a strangled laugh. “Only a woman can help me with this problem,” he agreed.
She opened her mouth, intending to respond with a chastising retort, but the words died in her throat as soon as she met his soft, seductive gaze. She swallowed, sensing that she was crossing dangerous grounds, and she knew that every moment she stayed in his domain made her situation more perilous. Still, the chains that slowed her movements earlier now weighed her down, rooting her to one spot. And all she could do was stare helplessly into his intoxicating eyes.
“On second thought I may be wrong,” he continued.
As if time had suddenly slowed down, she dimly saw him reach over and pull her toward him. His hand lifted to her face, tracing the soft swell of her lip, caressing it as if it was a rose petal. “You might be the only woman who can help me ease this discomfort,” he said.
Some hazy warning rang in her head but Rowena ignored it. She watched, mesmerized, as his long, bronzed fingers continued to trace her lips as if he now wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth.
His palm glided over her shoulder and curved behind her head. She felt pleasure course through her body as he brushed his lips on hers, causing her mind to still. Then leaning in, his chiseled lips exerted more pressure, covering her mouth, molding it until it softened and became enslaved under his sensual heat. “No other woman would d
o,” he whispered.
A small moan escaped from her throat, and once again her traitorous body betrayed her and induced her to lean into his solid, comforting strength.
She felt herself being gently guided to the pallet. He lay down beside her, pulling her close enough so that her breasts were resting against his bare chest. She could feel the intense heat through her gown, the wild hammering of her own heart against his.
She knew that the devouring hunger that she saw in his eyes was reflected in her own. She could sense the dark passion brewing there, something that she had never experienced yet yearned for. And as this passion took hold and grew, she felt compelled to throw caution aside, embrace the dark heat that he offered, and allow him to cast his enchantment over her.
“Kiss me back, Rowena,” he said thickly.
With a silent moan, she wrapped her slender arms around his neck, clinging to him as if her world was spinning out of its axis, and he was the one thing that held her steady. She kissed him, urging him to savor the feel and taste of her warm lips.
But her kiss served to spur him on. His tongue slid over her lips, teasing them with excruciating heat, caressing, stroking until he persuaded her to open them. As soon as they parted, his tongue drove in, invading her mouth, claiming her, driving all rational thoughts from her mind.
In an instant her body turned into liquid fire as it remembered the familiar sensation — a burst of heat which ignited and then slowly spread between her thighs, reaching deep within her woman’s core.
Then he broke away from the kiss, and Rowena was left with a vague feeling of loss.
“I want you,” he said, breathing harshly. He leaned his forehead against hers and buried his fingers in her hair, filling his senses with the heady lavender scent that clung to her. He let out a low groan and pulled her close so that she could feel his arousal. “I need you, but we have to stop.”
But she was already swimming in a sea of sensual pleasure and exquisite passion. The kiss awakened something inside of her, some ancient wanting that needed to be fulfilled. “Nay, do not stop,” she whispered. “I do not want you to stop.”
He looked at her, searchingly. “Are you certain?” he asked, unable to mask the desire or desperation in his voice.
She nodded and pressed closer, offering him her parted lips, moving them against his, kissing him as erotically as he kissed her just moments before.
“Rowena,” he groaned. He dropped his head, trailing fiery kisses along her neck while his hands wandered almost feverishly over her breasts, caressing, fondling them until they tingled and strained under the thin fabric.
Then as if the material was too much of a barrier, he unfastened the top buttons of her gown and hastily pulled the fabric down all the way to her feet. Rowena felt a rush of cool air on her exposed skin.
He groaned his appreciation, raking in the sight of her writhing in a sea of want and need. “You are magnificent,” he whispered, his voice husky. He placed his scorching mouth around a rosy tip and circled it with his hot tongue.
“Jonathan,” she gasped.
He lifted his head and gave her a lazy grin before continuing with his erotic onslaught.
He then bent his head, gliding his lips over to her other breast, mercilessly licking, toying with the taut peak. “I cannot get enough of the taste of you,” he said. And then as if to prove that what he meant was true, he covered her straining tip with his mouth, and sucked hard. Rowena moaned and gripped his head closer to her breasts as if trying to anchor herself to something solid.
Sensing the raw hunger mounting inside her, he deepened the kiss. At the same time, his hand shifted, gliding down her midriff to her waist, then lower to her silky thighs, and finally settling on the downy hair at her woman’s juncture. He slipped a finger inside and groaned once more when he found her slick and ready for him.
He tore his lips from her breasts and burned a trail down the length of her with his tongue.
And before she knew what happened, Jonathan lifted her high, bringing her to his mouth, his exploring tongue gliding along her wet crevice, probing her secret spot. At the first touch, she moaned, and when he heard the sound, he tightened his hold on her, his questing tongue driving deeper, hungrily drinking from her sweet nectar. She could feel herself breaking, and her body began to move in an age old rhythm, matching the frantic, feverish stroke of his tongue. A white flame flickered inside, intensifying, and then exploding into brilliant hues as a powerful wave of pleasure washed over her.
She didn’t have much time to wonder over the sensation when Jonathan quickly removed his hose, nudged her thighs apart, and poised above her.
She felt his hot throbbing shaft prod at her, waiting to plunge into her dark warmth.
Unable to help herself, she urged her hips closer, her body instinctively seeking the bold heat that he offered.
Jonathan shuddered as he felt her yield. He wanted to bury himself deep into her tight sheath yet he hesitated, vaguely aware that she might be a maiden and not the experienced courtesan that he initially believed. He had to stop. Now. But he couldn’t do it. He was too far gone.
“Jonathan?” Rowena said. Her face was flushed, and she was oblivious to what was running through his mind, blissfully unaware of what was to come.
He kissed her brow as if to apologize for any pain that he would cause her. With his forehead beaded with sweat, his heart pounding, he eased himself into her.
He could feel her fragile barrier now and clenching his teeth, he slid his hot throbbing shaft part way inside, allowing her to become accustomed to his hardness. But her liquid warmth was too much for him to bear.
His face twisted with crazed passion as he gripped her hips. “Rowena — forgive me,” he gasped. Then in one smooth motion, he thrust his entire length into her, shattering the fragile barrier.
He heard her sharp intake of breath as her nails dug into his shoulders.
He stilled his movements, allowing a minute for her pain to subside, and then he began moving again with slow, deliberate gentleness, gliding up and then down.
His body was wholly aroused and desperate for release, yet still he held back. He wanted to thoroughly pleasure her before he lost utter control. He circled his hips against hers, his ardor almost peaking at the sound of her soft sighs. Her small hands gripped his hips, drawing him closer. Unable to help himself, he plunged deeper, thrusting rhythmically and soon they were moving as one. He groaned, reveling in the way her body felt clasped around his swollen rod, incasing him in such tight warmth.
Her breathing became faster and urged by her feverish gasps, he pushed himself deeper, harder and further into her.
The pressure building up inside her suddenly exploded in a violent burst of pure ecstasy, racking her body with rippling, pulsating pleasure.
Her spasms clenched at him, pulling at his swollen member. Jonathan enfolded her in his arms, his breath becoming harsh and rapid. Then he tightened his hold on her. With one final thrust, he plunged his shaft to the hilt while his entire body convulsed, pouring his liquid warmth into her.
Languid heat enveloped Rowena in the aftermath. Never before had she experienced anything like this.
Then as if through a haze, she felt Jonathan withdraw his warmth. He rolled onto his back, jumping up and then quickly slipping into his hose.
“What is it?” she whispered, bringing her knees up and covering her breasts with her hands, now aware of her nakedness. But she didn’t need to ask. There were voices speaking just outside the tent.
Her confusion turned to alarm when she recognized the low tones of her nursemaid and the young voice of Jonathan’s squire. She tossed on her gown.
Jonathan thrust Rowena behind him, intending to shield her just as Ava forced herself into the tent.
Albert anxiously followed her in, and grabbed Ava’s arm. “I’m sorry, sire,” he said. “I couldn’t stop her.”
Ava shook her arm free. “I do not mean to disturb you, sire,” she said,
not even attempting to sound apologetic. “But a page said that he saw Lady Rowena coming toward this area. I’ve been searching for my lady all over the place and just want to find her. I do not know why your squire is giving me much such a hard time. I…”
Her voice faltered as if she just noticed someone hiding behind Jonathan. “I — I am very sorry. I did not know you had a visitor.” She paused, sounding embarrassed. There was a long pause. Rowena peeked out from behind Jonathan, watching in horror as Ava spied the medicine bottle sitting on the table near the pallet. “Why, that looks very similar to one of my special bottles…” she murmured to herself. She walked over to the table and picked up the vial. Almost absentmindedly she uncorked the bottle and sniffed at its contents. She jerked up her head, throwing a suspicious look at Jonathan. “This smells like a concoction that I make. I know every bottle that I give away, however I do not recall giving one to you, sire.” She furrowed her brow in puzzlement. “If a servant stole it, I want to speak to her in person…”
Before anyone knew what she planned to do, Ava marched over to him. The look on her face showed that she had every intention of discovering who it was he hid behind his back. But he was saved from any awkward explanations when Rowena emerged on her own accord.
“‘Twas I who gave it to him,” Rowena said quietly.
Ava took a staggering step backward and gasped, her face turning as pale as the wimple on her head. “My lady,” she said. In one quick glance, she took in Rowena’s disheveled hair and gown and then her sharp eyes noted Jonathan’s bare chest. She closed her eyes and put her hands to her mouth, letting out a low moan of distress. “Oh, child, what have you done? What have you both done?”
When neither Rowena nor Jonathan answered, Ava shook her head in despair. “Never mind, you need not explain. ‘Tis obvious what happened here,” she gestured angrily to the pallet on the ground, “and the way to remedy this situation and avoid a scandal is for you two to get married.”
The blood drained from Rowena’s face. “Married?” she cried. “I am supposed to choose my own husband.”
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 18