The Wolfe (34 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He had come back.

There were no words between them. William’s
mouth was on hers, kissing her so hard that he was bruising her. His tongue
plunged into her mouth and she responded to him with equal abandon, gasping and
crying so that he would never stop. Her hands were thickly entwined in his inky
hair, holding him against her mouth as if she were afraid he would change his
mind and try to leave. What had been pain only moments before was now wild,
unadulterated bliss.

They were on the bed and her robe
was open and his clothes were coming off in sections. His hands were on her,
everywhere, stroking, caressing, teasing her as she twisted and writhed against
him. She cried softly in disappointment when his mouth left her own, only to
cry out a second later in ecstasy as his hot, wet mouth latched onto a peaked
nipple.

She arched into him, her actions
telling him silently how much she was enjoying his attention. He responded by
snaking his big arm underneath the small of her back to hold her up to his
eager mouth.

She was crying and whimpering
softly, calling him ‘English’ as his mouth did wonderful, decadent, indecent
things to her. She was answering him with complete surrender, her senses
overwhelmed. Never did she imagine a touch could be the most important thing in
her life.

He came back up to her mouth,
licking and suckling her until she was gasping for air. The warm tingle she had
felt earlier was now a raging fire deep in her torso; spreading to her loins.
His urgent hand drifted to her dark blond mound of curls, stroking the thick
lips and already feeling the slippery moisture. When he slipped a finger inside
her, she raised her legs and pushed into his open palm.

William had lost control the moment
he had walked back through the door. He was unstoppable now, trying to retain
at least enough sense to remember to be careful with her, but when she arched
into his hand he damn near snapped. God, she was so wet and hot and her muscles
were already throbbing around his finger. He could feel the thin shield of her
virginity opposing him.

He wanted to go slowly, but he had
already lost the fight against his raging desire. He pushed her legs apart and
settled in between them, stroking her with feverish but gentle delight. He
started to kiss her tender core, his tongue flicking about the pink skin, but
she let out a muffled shriek and he was dangerously close to spilling himself.

He could wait no longer; he had to
have her or die.

Their eyes met as he raised himself
over her, her wide ones and his smoky ones. They were sweating, breathing
heavily, and he almost forgot what he wanted to say as he stared at her flushed
face and kiss-swollen lips.

She saw his hesitation. “We can
still stop, English,” she whispered. “No harm has been done yet.”

He shushed her. “I am betraying
myself if I do not admit my feelings for you. I must be true to my heart.” He
stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “My shame is so great you could not possibly
understand, but you are not the cause of it. ‘Tis for the fact that I know what
I am doing is clandestine and wrong in the eyes of our king and of our moral
law, but I am unable to stop myself.  My feelings for you are too great. I have
fought them off for so long that I can do it no longer. Forgive me my weakness.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She felt
like an evil, shameless hussy who had forced a man of such high principal into
something he was already regretting.

“Forgive me for thinking only of
myself,” she whispered, trying to move out from under him. “This is my fault. I
shouldna have forced ye into this. Yer a good man, William, and I willna see ye
miserable because of me. Ye’re trying to do the right thing and I stand in yer
way.”

He stopped her movements. “I would
be miserable without you. To have you and your love, although it will be a
secret known only to us, makes my whole life on this earth worth something.”

She was openly sobbing now. “But we
are sinning against God and yer liege,” she whispered. “And I am guilty because
I do not care that we are, I only know that I love ye, English. How can love be
wrong?”

He kissed her tears away, gently
lapping up the moisture from her temples. “It is not wrong in my heart. I know
God will find us guiltless. Yet it is not God I am worried of; your danger
would be great should the earl find us out.”

“What would he do?”

He traced along the tracks of her
drying tears with his fingers. “‘Tis hard to say,” he replied vaguely.

“Would he order me killed?” she
asked timidly.

“Never.”

She fell quiet a moment, allowing
her hands to caress his broad shoulders and linger along his back; she had
wanted to touch him in this manner for as long as she could remember.

“But what if what if he hears rumors
and confronts ye?” she questioned.

“I will not lie to the man, Jordan,”
he said huskily. “But neither will I volunteer that I love his wife. His
question would have to be direct and to the point to obtain that information.”

“Sweet William,” she smiled sadly. “Ye
are so noble.”

“I know,” he kissed her softly. “But
you, madam, could topple God himself.”

There were no more words to be
spoken, only the anticipation of the physical demonstration of their feelings.
He pushed into her slowly, acutely aware of how small she was, seating himself
a centimeter at a time and giving her time to adjust to the sensual intrusion.
He could feel her rapid breathing underneath him.

He knew she was scared; they were
both scared in more ways than one, but they also agreed that the risks were
worth everything. Nothing would ever keep them apart, king, country, liege.
Ever since the day they had met on the moor, he knew they were destined to be
together. There was no doubt in his mind.

Her virginal shield resisted him and
he pulled back slightly. Jordan relaxed as he stopped his onslaught, thinking
it was over and she smiled weakly at him. He returned her smile as her body
loosened and was deeply sorry he was about to deceive her, he kissed her hard
and drove home, breaking through the tissue and burying himself his entire hard
length.

She gasped in surprise at the
initial sting of pain and he stopped immediately.

“Is that all?” she grunted, tasting
blood and realizing she had bit her own lip.

He saw the tiny points of blood and
licked them hungrily. “Nay, love,” he murmured. “We have just yet begun. I
promise you will not be disappointed.”

She trusted him, feeling the raw
sting as he began to move gently within her. Her legs wrapped themselves around
his hard thighs, the discomfort soon giving way to an awakening pleasure.

His measured strokes were driving
her to the brink of madness and back again. She had no way of knowing how
unusually large his organ was, only knowing that it filled something in her she
never knew needed to be filled. There was fullness and there was pressure, but
it was a joyful soreness and it only seemed to add to the erotic pleasures that
were rippling through her body.

She watched him move through
half-closed eyes, relishing the way the sweat glistened on his dark skin in the
candlelight and loving the feel of his body next to hers every time they came
together. Her hips were instinctively moving with him, meeting him firmly, and
melding to him as if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally come
together. But her eyes closed as her new passion overtook her and she became
oblivious to all but the building pressure in her loins and the friction he was
creating.

His climax came as a low groan in
his throat and she felt his organ shudder and spasm deep inside her. When he
collapsed forward and enveloped her in his arms, she felt wonderful and at
peace but disappointed that it had ended so suddenly. She was still very much
in her passion and it only increased when his hand found her breast and began
to massage it slowly.

“Ye are driving me mad, English,”
she whispered. “I need ye still. Why have ye stopped?”

He lifted his head and smiled
seductively at her.  “I know what ye need,” he imitated her burr exactly.

Before she could ask him what he
meant, he moved down on the bed and put her legs over his shoulders. She was
about to ask him what in the world he was doing when his mouth suddenly
descended on the mound of curls between her legs and she stiffened like a
corpse.

William would finish now what he had
started before his lust got the better of him. Her pants of pleasure were furious
and loud and it took virtually no time at all before she was spiraling with pleasure,
her muscles contracting with sweet torment. He heard her cry, pleased that she
had experienced the pinnacle of pleasure such as he had. It was like a powerful
drug; once sampled, it would be craved. And they would crave it together.

“What sort of devilment is that ye
done to me? “ she demanded weakly as he loomed over her once again.

He grinned wolfishly. “Exquisite, is
it not?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck
as they rolled to their sides, loving the feel and smell of him against her. He
stoked her hair, her back, his thoughts still warm and languid. It was the most
intimate, magnificent expression either one of them had ever beheld.

William knew that whatever happened
from now on, she was his and he would never let her go. He could not even
fathom that she would be married to de Longley soon, probably within the month.
He could not think of that now and spoil the mood. He shifted her in his arms,
pulling her closer as if she truly belonged to him in every sense of the word.
As if she were not another man’s betrothed.

“Let’s run away,” she said, muffled,
into his shoulder.

He pulled back a little to look at
her. “Run away?”

She looked up at him, half-teasing. “Aye.
We could flee to Ireland or Scotland. They need good knights such as ye and we
could live together, forever.”

He looked thoughtful. “If we were to
flee, it would be to Flanders or Normandy. They appreciate a fine knight and we
could live as royalty.”

She propped herself up on her elbow
with a smile. “A wonderful dream, is it not?”

He suddenly looked serious and she
studied the ripple of his usually emotionless features.

“‘Tis not such a dream, mayhap,” he
murmured faintly.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do ye mean,
English? I wasna serious.”

He looked serious a split second
longer before smiling weakly at her. “Nor was I, love. England is my home. My
fealty is sworn to Lord de Longley.”

She sat up when he did, watching him
as he dressed again. He moved so beautifully, so gracefully, that she was
entranced by every movement.

“So ye know the story of Tristan and
Isolde?” she asked softly.

He gave her a sharp look. “Are you
going to compare us to them?”

“Nay,” she smiled. “‘Tis an ironic
parallel, though.”

He fastened the belt at his waist. “Only
in that I love you and you love me.” Finished, he looked at her where she sat
in the bed, hugging the covers around her knees. It struck him that he would
not go through his life without her by his side. How a woman,
any
woman,
could make him forget his lifelong loyalties was beyond his grasp. But he knew
he would wither away and die without her.

“Are you strong enough to face this?”
he asked, his voice gone soft. “You have me now and will never be rid of me.”

She grinned, “I dunna want to be rid
of ye, English. And, aye, I am strong enough. I vow it.”

He went back over to her and kissed
her tenderly. “I know you are. Now, go to sleep and I shall see you on the
morrow.”

He moved for the adjoining
antechamber, his boots heavy on the floor. Watching his exquisite backside, she
was reminded that the last time she had seen it, he had been escorting
Analiese. That thought made her flair with jealousy.

“English.” she called him.

He paused. “Aye, love, what is it?
And do not ask me to bed you again, for I cannot although I would dearly love
to.”

She fought off a grin, trying to
look suspicious. “You left with Lady Analiese this eve from the dining hall.
Should there be something I must know about?”

He made such a horrified face that
she laughed out loud. “Surely you jest, madam.” Giving her a final reproving
look as if to tell her just what he thought of that awful scenario, he left.

When she heard the door close softly
she lay back happily on the bed, her smile fading as she drifted off into a
deep, contented sleep.