A Forbidden Love (16 page)

She took a moment to absorb the sounds and fragrances of the night, and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. After a brief pause, she went straight over to the bed, with no intention of disrobing, and collapsed onto the mattress. She curled into a ball, wedged her fist under the pillow, and dearly hoped her dreams would come soon to take her away from all her troubles.

It was a few moments later she detected the soft click of boot heels striking the hardwood floor.

She kept her eyes shut tight, her back to Anthony, and heard him mutter something about a “stubborn minx” before she opened her eyes in time to see one of the blankets descend over her body. He then headed back over to the other side of the room.

Scrunching the corner of the woolly fabric between her fingers, she pulled the cover up to her nose.

He was doing it again. Playing the part of the gallant gentleman. The only trouble was she wasn’t a noble lady. Their relationship, such as it was, would be so much simpler if he treated her with the same contempt the rest of his kind so effortlessly bestowed. There would be no fluttering heartbeats then, no desire…and no feelings of guilt for that desire.

Moonlight filled the room, the candle extinguished. Anthony settled onto the floor.

“Goodnight, Sabrina,” he said softly.

Muffled against the blanket, she returned, “Goodnight.”

It would not come, sleep that is. She opened her eyes to gawk at the window. The guilt was gnawing at her. Just how was she supposed to sleep with the knowledge that Anthony was lying on the floor, not used to the rigid planks beneath his back, prone to the aches and pains he’d undoubtedly feel in the morning?

The man’s pride, or chivalry, or sense of duty, or whatever it was that had sent him to the ground in the first place, would also prevent him from taking the bed, unless she did something to change that.

Seeing as her guilt already prevented her from getting any sleep, Sabrina quietly slipped off the mattress.

“What are you doing?” came the quizzical demand from the darkness.

Wrapped in her pillow and blanket, she curled up onto the floor. “Take the bed! I’m fine right here on the ground.”

Silence. Only the crickets chirped in the distance. Then she heard his big body shift. Finally, she thought, the man would listen to reason. But she should have known better.

Sabrina shrieked. Scooped up off the floor and into Anthony’s arms, she found herself dropped back onto the feathers with a stern warning.

“Stay in the bed until morning. I don’t want to see you on the floor again.”

With that, he sauntered back over to his side of the room.

“But your back—”

“Will be perfectly fine,” he cut in impatiently, and settled onto the floor for the second time that night.

But they both knew that wasn’t true, that his back would be crooked come dawn.

“All right,” she grit through her teeth. “We’ll share the bed.”

His shadowed head slowly peeked over the mattress to gaze at her. He shrugged at last. “Have it your way.”

Oh, charming. Have it her way? If things went her way, he’d be in the bed—alone. Better yet, he’d be sleeping in
his
bed, in
his
house, and not in here with her at all.

Sabrina hustled to collect every spare blanket, then dropped the pile onto the bed, constructing a dense wall.

For what she hoped would be the last time that evening, she crawled onto her side of the bed and closed her eyes, giving Anthony her back again. She could feel those intense green eyes watching her, burrowing a hole right through her. She ignored the faint tremors dancing along her spine.

The mattress dipped at his sinking weight, and she rolled into the depression. Quickly scooting forward, she virtually teetered on the edge of the bed.

Wide-eyed, alert to every movement or change in sound, she waited for her bed partner to drift off to sleep, though if the passing minutes were any indication, it would be a long wait. Anthony tossed to one side, then rolled onto his other, where he was still for all of two seconds before flopping onto his back. When the wall of blankets was shoved up against her own back, she realized he’d moved again, and this time he was far too close to her side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she demanded stiffly.

“Just trying to get comfortable.”

His gruff voice was unnervingly close.

“Well, stop it,” she hissed.

“You’d rather I be uncomfortable?”

“I’d rather you lie still.”

He sighed. “I’ll never be able to fall asleep with those damned crickets.”

“They’re the sounds of the night and I can’t sleep without them.”

“They’re more the sounds of my nightmares.”

“It takes some getting used to,” she mumbled.

“Can you really ever get used to it?”

“One day, maybe. The noises are as calming to me as any silence.”

He grumbled, “I think I’ll always prefer the silence.”

“Then this will be an interesting night for you.”

“Will it?”

An abrupt innocence crept into his voice, and her insides did a full-about turn at the sound of his playfulness. She’d not expected his mood to shift so quickly, nor had she meant to suggest anything. Her cheeks tinted. How the devil had that remark slipped passed her lips?

She rushed to move their talk in a different direction. “I’ll close the window if you can’t sleep.”

His hand shot over the wall of blankets to brace against her shoulder and push her back down against the bed.

“It’s all right. Like you said, it takes some getting used to.”

That he’d reached her so effortlessly proved how poor the wall she’d built really was—not that she’d consider tearing it down.

“Sabrina.”

She gripped her pillow. “What?”

“Since neither of us can sleep…I suggest we finish our interrupted kiss.”

The pillow smacked across his face.

Anthony reached over the barrier, dove his arm under her back, and hoisted her right up over the divider.

She hit the wall of muscle and gasped at the alarming feel of hard pectorals quivering under the weight of her body. Fingers wove tightly through her hair. Another hand clamped over her lower back, making it impossible for her to push away.

Her breath trapped in her throat at the smile he bestowed. In the moonlight, it was a devilish smile, not sinister in nature, but certainly roguish, and definitely handsome. But the man had lost his mind if he believed she’d actually consent to such a suggestion. And since the shock of what was happening deprived her of words, she responded by wiggling soundly in his arms. The more she struggled to get away, though, the more rigid his muscles grew, until she heard the deep, rumbling groan.

She stopped squirming, still as stone, and stifled a groan of her own, though it had nothing to do with her mounting desire, and everything to do with her foolishness for having ignited his.

“Anthony, I—”

“Shhhh,” he whispered against her lips, caressing her hair, the lower curve of her spine. “Don’t fight it.”

That won’t be too hard,
she thought dismally. Hot, sultry breaths warmed her already flushed features, and she found herself sinking even deeper into the dark pools of his hypnotic eyes. If she didn’t pull away in the next instant, to hell with reason, she would lose herself to the tempest threatening to consume them both.

An instant passed.

Into the swirling waters she leapt.

Gripping the silk of his shirt, as though it were her lifeline, she didn’t resist when he gently lowered her head and pressed his lips to hers, thrilling her, alarming her, leaving her clinging desperately to him for guidance.

She had never dreamed anything could feel so wonderful. An upsurge of sensations soaked through her every pore. No gypsy wives’ tale had ever been so vivid. No one had ever mentioned just how heart-pounding, soul-wrenching such an experience could be.

The moist tip of his tongue skipped over her lips, once, twice, and on the third flick, he dipped into her mouth. A rush of air filled her lungs. Her pulse sprinted at the hot feel of him delving inside her. Each probing thrust of his tongue grew more urgent than the last, and her lips were eager, possessive, hungry in return.

“Anthony,” she breathed heavily against his mouth.

In an instant, the wall of blankets was kicked clean off the bed and their coiled bodies spun once, so Sabrina found herself pinned under his weight instead. And what a difference it made to feel
his
body on top of hers. A glorious tension twined in her belly. Her inner thighs prickled and ached, as the slow, feathery touch of his hand slid along her calf, lifting her skirt up over her knees. A surge of cold air whooshed over her legs. Goose pimples tickled her flesh and she shuddered violently.

It was frightening, the storm of emotions inside her. How could he make her feel this way? How could she cope with the thought of losing her heart, her very soul to this man? And what of the devastation she would feel when it came time for her and Anthony to part? What of the devastation she would cause her father if she was to return to her camp in disgrace?

A sudden panic overtook her. “Anthony!”

But his mouth clamped down harder over hers, bringing a decisive end to her lapse into reason.

Sabrina gulped in drafts of much-needed air when his lips finally left hers to tend to her neck, her chest…

The laces at her collar already loose, he merely slipped her blouse down one shoulder to expose a bare breast to his parted lips.

“So beautiful,” he whispered raggedly, reverently, a deep crimson blush springing into her cheeks at the awe she heard in his voice.

His hot mouth covered her nipple, fast hardening under the languid caress of his tongue. She whimpered at the intense feelings bubbling inside her and clawed at his shoulders. Pure heaven was all she could think of. Her fingers moved to knit tightly through his golden mane, and she pressed his head harder against her breast in an instinctive cry for more. He appeased her demand most willingly, drawing her deep into his mouth and suckling, sending a hand under her blouse to attentively knead her other breast.

A whip of heat lashed her skin at the feel of those powerful fingers rocking the mound. His thumb rubbed the sensitive bud of her nipple, already tightening, shrinking between the friction of each deft and eager stroke.

She wanted to weep between the disparity of her own desire and her sense of duty. The act of love may be cherished and celebrated by her people—and with good reason—but
only
between a husband and wife. She could not go home dishonored. She would have to live with that dishonor for the rest of her life.

A second break in the sensuous storm provided her with a chance for escape, and this time she was more adamant.

She grasped the sides of his head and forced him to meet her gaze. “Anthony, I can’t.”

Her voice was heavy, smoky, and yet crackled with apprehension. He looked into her eyes so passionately, she felt an overwhelming impulse to move her fingers to his wet brow and brush away the moist curl dangling over his eye. She did so lightly, tenderly.

They just held each other for a time, waiting for the surge of passion to subside, neither willing to let the other go.

With a deep sigh, Anthony dropped his head to her shoulder and eventually nestled against her breast.

She didn’t make one word of protest when he went to sleep in her arms that night, his ear pressed snugly over her heart. It stomped so loudly in her chest, she was sure he had heard every resounding beat.

Chapter 14

“D
o you intend to peel the skin away?”

Crouching by the stream, a bemused Sabrina suddenly demanded, “What?”

“Your face,” said Anthony. “You’ve been scrubbing it for the last five minutes.”

Had she? She looked down at her wet hands. He must be exaggerating. It didn’t seem like five minutes had passed.

Lifting the hem of her skirt, she patted her face dry, and cast one final look at her distorted reflection in the rippled water before moving away from the shoreline.

She turned to find Anthony kneeling a little ways off, Shadow’s hoof in his lap. He was digging out the pebbles that had wedged themselves in between the metal shoe. Her heart fairly tripped at the sight of him. It had been doing that all morning. She had yet to bring the erratic beats under control. It was midday and still her jitters were as strong as ever. Since setting out from the inn at dawn, her nerves were on constant edge. Memory of the night she and Anthony had shared—or almost shared—tumbled through her mind even now, sending color blooming to her cheeks.

She had tried to hide the adorning blush by dabbing some cold water over her flushed features, but the heat glowing from her skin could not be doused. It didn’t help matters that Anthony looked so dashing. His formal evening wear tucked away in his bag, he’d replaced the elegant garments with the more ordinary garb of dark britches and a riding coat, though the snug fit of leather over hard muscled thighs was anything but ordinary in her eyes.