Love's Call (20 page)

What a wonderful dream.

Warm fingertips urged her face up, and his lips captured hers. She opened to the insistent push of his tongue. They both shivered.

She arched into his hard chest, rubbing until her nipples peaked. Ansley kissed him harder, swallowing back his groan as their tongues danced.

Desire pooled low in her belly and she wiggled as heat shot lower, enhancing the pleasant ache already between her legs.

His hands slid down her back, cupping her bottom. An erection brushed her sex and she throbbed in answer, opening her legs at his urging so he could move closer. The tip of his manhood parted her wet folds as he rocked into her, but didn’t enter.

More. She needed more.

Ansley moaned. She’d never had a dream so real. She
ached
for him to join them, make them one. Push inside her.

“Hmmm…Ansley,” Leargan whispered against her lips.

Her eyes flew open when she heard his voice. Memories flooded and she blushed to her toes.

Leargan was in her bed.

They’d made love.

The pleasant ache between her legs wasn’t imagined.

I love you.
She bit back the words, chiding herself. He’d said he
needed
her. Called her
love
a few times, but it was a common term of affection. It meant nothing.

She given him her innocence, and she didn’t regret it. But it would have meant so much more if he loved her, too.

Blinking, she swallowed and pressed her lips to his. She couldn’t tell him how she felt, but she could show him with her body.

He wouldn’t tell her no. Wanting her wasn’t exactly love, but he’d care for her, and he’d marry her as promised.

She’d have to worry about her heart later.

Ansley needed Leargan like she needed to breathe.

He rolled them and groaned again, pressing her into the bed. Leargan deepened their kiss and settled his weight on top of her.

She rubbed her tongue against his, kissing him back with all her might as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. His erection burned her inner thigh, and she writhed. He wasn’t in the right place. Ansley needed him inside her.

He’d come into her room the previous night, hair damp from his bath, clothing casual, a simple pale blue tunic and soft tan breeches encasing his powerful thighs.

Ansley had wanted him even more than she had before. He’d been approachable and even more gorgeous.

Though he’d never said if he’d come to see her with a purpose, she hadn’t been about to let him leave without taking her.

No more rejections.

Leargan might have great control, but he was still a man.

Naked
had done the trick. She’d have to thank Daicy.

His hands cupped her bottom and pulled her pelvis flush to his. He pressed into her, moving back and forth, but didn’t push inside.

Ansley broke their kiss, throwing her head back and moaning his name. “Please…please. I…I…need…”

“I want you.” He panted over her, his long hair tickling her face and neck.

She froze at the tenderness she saw in the dark pools of his eyes. “Have me, please. Take me.” Ansley shoved her sex against his erection.

“Are you too sore?” The concern in his tone made her heart thunder. Leargan caressed her cheek.

“You’re killing me,” she whispered.

A slow heated smile curved his lips as the phrase he’d uttered so many times fell from her lips.

Ansley would have mustered a retort, but he gave her what they both wanted and gently slid inside her.

Gasping, she grasped his biceps as he stilled. Unlike the pain of first penetration last night, this didn’t hurt. She was sore, but not in a bad way. Stretched, filled.
Complete
. As close to him as she could get. And throbbing, since he hadn’t started to move.

“Leargan…” She shifted her bottom.

“Love…don’t do that,” he breathed.

“Then move…please move…” She lifted her hips and started to thrust under him, tilting to take him deeper.

“Wanted…to…make sure…you’re…all right…”

In answer, Ansley drove up again.

Finally her lover grunted and thrust forward on a moan.

Leargan devoured her mouth, kissing her into oblivion as he found a comfortable rhythm.

She held him tight to her, moving with him, under him, making noises into their endless kisses. Her blood sang in her ears as he took them higher.

Restlessness rolled over her, and her body twitched, began to tighten like last night. Pleasure hit her in waves.

A cry broke from her lips and she threw her head back, whispering his name over and over. Ansley had no control over her stiff muscles.

Her love buried his face against her neck and plastered her to his chest, stilling above her. His erection jerked inside; he too found release. Warmth settled low in her belly and she shivered in his arms.

Leargan collapsed on top of her.

Ansley loved his weight. She spread kisses all over his neck and shoulder and held him tight, not ready for their bodies to be parted.

Blessed Spirit she loved him. It was becoming more and more difficult to hold it inside.

She sighed into his neck, running her hands down his sweat dampened back, following the curve of his rear end and as much of his muscular thigh as she could reach. Springy hair greeted her fingertips, and Leargan shook against her breasts, his face still hidden against her. His warm breath tickled her skin.

“Ansley,” he whispered.

She brought her hands back up, running her fingers through his long dark hair and squeezed him tighter.

Leargan chuckled and she felt it rumble against her breasts. “I need to breathe, love.” He lifted his head and their gazes collided, his dark eyes dancing.

“Sorry.”

Ansley trembled when he traced her kiss-swollen lips with his finger.

His expression suddenly sobered, eyes boring into her. “You’re mine, Ansley.”

Leargan said that last night, too.

Her heart stuttered.

He’d told her he was
hers,
too.

“Aye,” she whispered.

“Say it.”

“Leargan?” She stared up at him.

“Tell me you’re mine, Ansley.” His tone was a mixture of an order…and something else. Almost a plea?

“I’m yours. Always.” Ansley couldn’t look away.

His eyes spoke of tenderness and heat, but what else?

Was she foolish to think there was more?

Leargan took her mouth in answer, kissing her until her already-languid body slipped into bonelessness. Her legs fell to the bed.

He flipped their positions, Ansley landing on top.

She snuggled into his muscled chest, molding herself to him. Ansley played with the sparse coarse hair between his blunt nipples.

“I could stay here all day with you.” He ran his hands over her long hair.

“Aye, I never want to leave this bed.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Unfortunately, I have duties.”

She ignored the wave of disappointment that threated to crash over her. He was right. They couldn’t languish in bed all day, regardless of what they both wanted.

They would be missed. They weren’t married yet. He had no reason to be in her room this early in the morning.

“What’s wrong?” Leargan whispered, cupping her face.

“N-n-nothing.”

His gaze roved her face. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“Blessed Spirit, no, I l—” Words rushed, heat crept up her neck, scorching her cheeks. She’d almost told him she loved him,
again
. “No. I don’t regret it.”

“Ansley?” Something in his tone made her meet his eyes.

Since when did Sir Leargan Tegran, brave knight and Captain of the Aldern personal guard, need reassurance?

“I don’t regret giving myself to you. Ever. I Promise.”

His shoulders relaxed into the bed linens. “I want you to know it was special to me, Ansley. It was…” Brow drawn tight, he was vulnerable and adorable.

She leaned in and kissed him, heart tripping.

Leargan moaned into her mouth, shoving his tongue against hers and yanking her closer.

Ansley fell into his chest, her arm scrambling for purchase. Fingertips brushed the tip of an erection. She quivered. He wanted her again. The feeling was mutual.

She pulled away from his kiss, panting hard. “My first time was very special.” Ansley pressed warm wet kisses around his mouth. “As was my second.”

Cupping a breast, he thumbed her nipple until it peaked, and she gasped.

One corner of Leargan’s mouth shot up. “How was your third?”

“Show me,” she demanded.

****

Cera laughed as she circled Ansley, her sword high. “What do you mean, it’s not fair?”

“It’s magic.” Ansley gripped the hilt of her weapon tighter. The sword was familiar in her hands. Felt good.

Her father had told her many a time she’d been born with a sword in her hands, her weapon of choice. She’d always been the best of the female Riders.

Too bad the duchess had almost equal skills.

“I’m starting to regret Tristan healing you completely,” she muttered.

Cera laughed again and rushed her, but Ansley twisted her body away and avoided contact.

Men clapped, and someone whistled.

Ansley tried to pretend most of the guard and a good-sized group of men-at-arms didn’t line the fence of the fighting yard.

Why did I agree to spar?

The duchess had declared she needed some air. She’d left little Fallon with her lady’s maid, Neomi, and challenged Ansley to a duel. Cera had guilted her, stating—whining about—how long she’d been cooped up in the castle.

When she’d reminded Ansley of beating her in a match at Spring Training a few turns back—in front of new Rider recruits no less—Ansley couldn’t say no.

No one
beat her with a sword.

Much like Cera’s skills with the bow.

Now she regretted her pride, even though the male eyes were filled with admiration. She didn’t like being the center of attention. Never had.

The clash of metal on metal jolted her, and Ansley locked her arms so Cera wouldn’t knock her over.

“Concentrate, Ans. Or are you rusty?”

Ansley growled and pushed the duchess off, stalking and circling her.

Ali echoed her growl from the tree line, and she hushed her mentally. Her bond knew Cera wouldn’t hurt her, had seen them spar and train more times than she could count. She was just being antsy because Ansley was distracted, not focused on the fight.

“I’m not rusty; you are.” She pushed Cera away from her, thrusting her sword.

Her friend widened her stance and met her strike, hitting Ansley’s sword away from her body. “All right, you got me there. That could have been a cut.”

“One point for Ansley, love. C’mon, you can do better than that!” Jorrin shouted.

Cera growled. “I’ll get her.”

“Don’t let her talk to you like that, Ansley,” Leargan shouted.

When Ansley swung her body back around, she noticed Jorrin and Leargan bumping shoulders and grinning. Like they were vying to get closer as they cheered her and Cera on.

Her heart flipped and she chided herself to concentrate. Ansley flashed a feral grin. “Dare you.” She dashed forward.

Cera raised her magic sword and the glow around the weapon brightened, as magic surged forward. It bled out, surrounding her body too, like an aura.

“That is
cheating
.”

The duchess flashed a grin, saying nothing.

Ansley didn’t let the magic stop her, though she had to squint against the radiance. She crashed her sword into the duchess’s and Cera stumbled back. She made two long slices in front of her friend’s torso. If they’d been fighting for their lives, Ansley’s strikes would’ve killed.

Her instinct was to stop the duchess from toppling over, but she didn’t. A sparring match was a sparring match, after all.

Cera tumbled to the ground and winced as her rear end hit. Dirt puffed into the air around her breech-clad legs.

Men gasped then clapped. Some chuckled, but when she glanced over her shoulder, all Ansley could see was rapt attention.

Leargan beamed and hit Jorrin’s shoulder. When his eyes found hers, he pumped his fist.

Grinning, Ansley turned back to Cera and tapped the crown of her head with the tip of her weapon. “
That’s
what you get for cheating, my lady. Dead dead dead.”

Mock-glaring, her friend couldn’t quite hold back her grin. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so. But you never said no magic.”

Ansley shook her head and sheathed her sword, then offered her hand to the duchess. “I thought it was inferred.”

Cera grinned as Ansley helped her gain her feet. “Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t bite back another grin. “You’re so sincere.”

The duchess bowed and sheathed her magic sword. Then she thrust out her hand. “Thank you for the sparring match. I defer to your greatness with the sword.”

Ansley ignored Cera’s teasing tone and grabbed her hand, beaming. “That just made it worth it. Thanks.”

Jorrin whistled long and slow from the fence. “We’d better call Gamel to write that on parchment. Cera used the word
defer
and
greatness
in the same sentence.”

Ansley giggled when the duchess glared at her husband.

Leargan threw his arm around Ansley’s shoulders when they reached the men and a tremor slid down her spine. The heat of his side against hers seeped through her jerkin.

Them entwined in her bed and that morning flashed into her mind, and she swallowed hard as her body warmed.

“That was great fun, love.” Jorrin pressed a kiss to Cera’s cheek and she grinned.

“I agree. Ansley and I need to spar more often.”

“You only want to so you can learn to beat me, Ceralda Aldern.” Ansley giggled.

“Not,” Cera said, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“You were fantastic, love,” Leargan whispered into Ansley’s ear.

She shivered as his warm breath tickled. “Thank you. I bet I could defeat you, too.” Ansley doubted it, though. He was stronger, larger, and fantastic with a sword.

Leargan arched a dark eyebrow, but the carefree grin he wore made her heart stutter.