Samantha James (28 page)

She was trembling, every muscle in her body tensed against him as his mouth slowly descended to hers. Yet his kiss was so tender, so achingly sweet it brought tears to her eyes. With a choked sob, she turned into his chest and locked traitorous arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if he were all she'd ever wanted in this world.

His tongue flicked at her lips, demanding entrance, stealing deep within her mouth with a ravaging rhythm that made her go weak inside. Once again she fell victim to the same driving need she sensed inside him. His hand slid down her body, shaping and molding, reawakening dormant pangs of desire, trailing fire wherever he touched. She felt as if he led her through a vague dark mist where she could not find her way alone; 'twas his hand, his binding touch that guided her, and only through him could she find the path she sought.

Sensations hitherto unknown to her clamored through her. When his lips at last closed over her straining nipple, she bit back a cry of sweet bliss. Her fingers threading through the midnight darkness of his hair, she clamped him to her breast.

He laved her breast with his tongue, while his knuckles grazed the flatness of her belly, over and over before tangling in the downy fleece guarding her womanhood. Her heart tripped over itself when a bold and daring finger slid inside her furrowed cleft, his thumb circling a place that seemed to seek tight against his touch. She sought tried to clamp her thighs closed.

"Don't fight it, sweet." His hot breath feathered across the delicate sweep of her cheek. "Don't fight me." Guy clenched his teeth. The dewy warmth his hand encompassed nearly shredded his control. His manhood was full to the point of bursting; he was near-crazed with the need to bury himself to the hilt inside her. But he held off, wanting to make certain her desire echoed his.

He sealed his lips with hers, devouring her mouth with fierce possessiveness. Her breath caught when that shamefully invading finger delved deep within her furrowed warmth, sweeping her away with bold, torrid strokes that turned her limbs to water. It was an exquisite torture. She began to writhe and twist, searching for something tantalizing and elusive—exactly what she did not know. He raised his head to drink in her response, reveling in her softly panting cries, the way her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. A thrill of purely male triumph shot through him as she convulsed around his fingers.

Weak and dazed by what had happened, Kathryn opened her eyes. His dark features hovered above her, taut with strain. She felt him nudge her thighs apart, felt his manhood like a searing brand against her thigh, and inwardly braced herself for the pain she knew would follow.

The scorching heat of him sank slowly within moist, feminine petals. She gasped, certain she could not take all of him. Indeed, she felt her body stretch to the limit to accommodate his velvet-and-steel hardness, but there was no pain. . . She sensed his restraint as he slowly withdrew, then eased inside again. Within her belly, a heavy warmth unfurled. With each carefully measured plunge of his body into hers, heat shimmered along her veins. She caught her breath at the silken friction, until at last her hips arched in involuntary response, instinctively seeking his.

Above her, he went very still, so still she feared she had done something terribly wrong. His breath was harsh and rasping in her ear. She could feel the frantic thunder of his heart against her own. Her fingers curled helplessly in the hair that grew low on his nape, an involuntary caress.

"Guy?" She waited, scarcely daring to breathe.

At the sound of his name, something seemed to give way deep inside him. With a groan his mouth sought hers, not rough, just. . . urgent. He drove into her with a force that resounded in the chambers of her heart. Again and again, his thrusts wild and almost frenzied, as if he'd lost all control. She clutched at the hardness of his arms and buried her face against his shoulder, and she no longer cared that he was not gentle. Because she was suddenly out of control, too, clinging to him in wanton splendor. The flames inside her blazed high— sparks showered through her, inside and out. She spun away in mindless wonder, even as he gave one final shattering plunge. The spewing heat of his seed bathed her womb with honeyed fire.

Time ceased to exist. The heavy weight of his body eased. Kathryn was only vaguely aware when he moved to his back, pulling her up against his side. She lay curled against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

An hour earlier she'd have deemed it nigh impossible... She fell asleep to the lulling drumbeat of his heart beneath her ear, the soothing caress of his fingers trailing her spine.

She woke alone.

Last night's events flooded her mind in vivid detail. She shut her eyes. Her heart cried out. How was it possible to despise and hate a man so, and yet experience such wondrous elation at his hand? When he made love to her, she could hold back nothing—nothing!—and it was frightening. In the cold light of day, she could not condone what she had done. Never had a battle been so easily won! she conceded bitterly. Ah, there had been no need for force, or even subtle coercion. He need not even ask and she willingly surrendered all that he sought. Clutching her pillow to her breast, she rolled to her side and stared at the tepid sunshine creeping through the shutters.

He called her witch. He branded her sorceress. Ah, but he was the sorcerer, for something happened the instant he touched her. He leeched her will from her with but the touch of his lips, the seductive stroke of his hand.

It was in the midst of this disturbing frame of mind that the door opened. Kathryn knew instinctively it was Guy. Along with his entrance came a seething tension. The heavy footfall of steps preceded his appearance at the bedside.

An icy dread clutched at her. She smothered the urge to throw the covers around her head and huddle like a child, for she knew not what to expect from him! Instead she curled her fingers over the edge of the furs to shield her nakedness and forced herself to look at him.

In some distant corner of her mind, she was surprised to see that he wore his hauberk, as if he prepared to do battle. In the next instant, all her attention was focused on the rigid cast of his jaw, the taut constriction of his body as he towered over her. Nothing in his expression gave any indication of what had passed between them only hours earlier.

The passionate lover of the night before had vanished. Before her was the cold, merciless knight she hated and despised. Her heart plunged to the floor. She quickly pushed away her weakness, berating herself furiously. It was foolish to expect any tenderness from him—foolish to expect anything at all!

He stared down at her, his tone as chilly as his regard. "A messenger arrived early this morn."

Kathryn frowned, raising herself up on an elbow, careful to keep the fur around her naked breasts. She could not think why he would tell her unless... Her eyes widened. "Oh, no! Has something happened to Elizabeth?" She bounded to a sitting position and clutched at his arm. 'Tell me, my lord! Is she hurt?"

Guy's lip curled. He swore viciously. Did she think of nothing else but Ashbury? "Set your mind at ease," he said harshly. "This has naught to do with Elizabeth... or Ashbury!" This last was fairly flung at her.

Stunned, Kathryn stared at him numbly. He was angry with her, she realized. She did not understand it. She he did not understand him!

She moistened her lips and eyed him warily. 'This message," she said stiffly. "If it does not concern me, why are you here?"

His laughter held no mirth. "Ah, but it does concern you, milady, for it seems the king himself has granted your fondest wish." His lips twisted. "Henry has summoned me to his side."

Kathryn blinked. "What! You mean you .. . you must leave Sedgewick?"

"Aye." He uttered the word like a condemnation, not an affirmation. Ruthlessly he searched her face for the triumph he was certain he would find there. But those rose-hued lips were slack in surprise. Those lovely green eyes reflected just the right amount of bewildered astonishment. . . ah, but she played her role of innocent with consummate ease!

With brutal fury he wondered if she knew this cost him dearly. He had no wish to leave Sedgewick, yet he could hardly ignore his king. Damn! If only Henry's summons had come on the morrow, or the day after. Better still, not at all.

Yet what did it matter? he asked himself bitterly. Last night she lay pliant and weak in his arms. Last night she had abandoned herself to him ever so willingly—aye, even eagerly! But when dawn streaked the eastern sky, there was naught of victory in his heart, no deliverance from this hell into which she'd cast him.

In his arrogance he had convinced himself that he alone commanded her body. Even now he wanted to tear the covers from those bare, silken limbs, plunge his fingers into her black mane and smother her lips with his. He longed to explore the sleep-scented hollows of her body and forget his king existed—forget everything but the driving need to bury himself in her honeyed cave of velvet heat. . .

And he knew he could do it—oh, she might pretend resistance again, but she would melt soon enough.

Only one thing stopped him, and he found himself tormented by the thought which had plagued him the night through. Mayhap she yielded her body only to gain what she wanted. Mayhap this was her way of molding him to her will, for wasn't that what she had planned with Roderick? She had sought to lure and entice Roderick into her web of enchantment, then turn around and play him against her uncle, like a puppet on a string!

He pulled the furs from her clenched hands. "Get dressed!" he commanded curtly. "I want you in the bailey as soon as you're ready. And do not think to delay me by dallying, or I'll be forced to bring you down as you are." The glint in his eyes warned her he would tolerate no defiance. He raked her with a glance that left her feeling stripped to the bone, then strode from the chamber.

Though it cost her no small amount of pride, Kathryn was up and dressed in less than ten minutes. She spied Guy alongside his destrier as soon as she entered the bailey. She did not go to him. She remained near the outside stair that led to the great hall.

He did not leave her waiting long. He stopped directly before her, his countenance grim. He spoke without preamble. "Promise me you'll be here when I return."

There was no tenderness, no hint of softness in his manner, nothing but implacable demand. She felt the pain of betrayal as keenly as a knife in her breast. Clearly last night meant nothing to him! His hands, his caresses, were naught but a weapon to impose his mastery over her.

She could not hide her bitterness. "Why? My word means little to you."

His hands came out to grip hers. 'Tell me you won't run off to Ashbury. I want you here when I return, however long I am gone."

Never had she been so torn, divided in two, sliced cleanly in half. She hated him and yearned desperately to be free of him, yet denial was the furthest thing from her mind! Swamped with confusion, she shook her head. "Ask me anything," she pleaded. "Anything but that!"

She swallowed convulsively, imprisoned in his gaze. Unbelievably his eyes reflected no coldness, no hint of mockery. They held some urgent, nameless appeal she was afraid to acknowledge yet could not ignore.

"Promise me, Kathryn."

His voice was low. To her horror, her throat grew achingly tight. "Aye," she said on a strangled half- sob. "I promise."

Something flickered across his face. Triumph? Her heart cried out in despair even as an arm slid about her waist, dragging her close.

She surprised them both by twining her arms around his neck. She could deny him nothing, for at that moment, his will mirrored her own. He took her lips in plain view of any onlooker, endlessly long and deep, and she cared not who saw, nor that it was less a kiss than a proclamation of raw male ownership.

She stood rooted to the spot, long after he'd ridden through the gatehouse. Finally, she whirled and ran to her chamber, throwing herself upon the bed where she cried herself to sleep.

It was hours later before she awoke again. She lay very quietly for a moment, feeling dull and lethargic and wanting nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. Why was she so exhausted? she wondered. It was probably the strain of the last day, she decided tiredly. There had been so many emotions... in so little time.

Gerda entered, offering her a tentative smile. "You missed both the morning and the midday meal, milady. Would you like something to eat?"

Just the thought of food made Kathryn's stomach lurch, though not in hunger. "Not just yet, Gerda." She pressed the back of her hand against her cheeks. She felt strangely hot, but her skin was cool, almost clammy. She pushed aside the furs and rose to her feet, feeling shaky and fluttery inside.

"What is wrong with me?" She put a hand to her forehead. "My stomach heaves, no matter what I do or do not eat. I am constantly weary, no matter how long I sleep. No one else has sickened," she moaned. "Why does this ailment persist?"

Gerda's smile disappeared. She peered at her oddly. "Milady, forgive me for my boldness, but surely you know that 'tis not so much a sickness as. . ." A blush stole into her cheeks as Kathryn stared at her blankly. She bit her lip, "You've had only one course since you've been here, haven't you?"

"Aye." She nodded, beginning to feel dizzy and lightheaded. "But what has that to do with—" She stopped short. Gerda was right—her last monthly flux had come nearly three months ago. With all the turmoil in her life of late, she'd scarcely given it a thought.. . Her eyes grew stricken as a horrible assumption formed in her mind. "No," she whispered tremulously. "Oh, no .. ."