Sweet Bea (23 page)

“God’s wounds, this is foolishness.” He chuckled and the corners of Beatrice’s mouth tilted in response. “Beatrice, you cannot sit there all night hanging on to your knees.”

“I know.” She was glad the dark hid her blush. “I just feel…” She didn’t have the words for how she felt. Except, she wanted to explode from her own skin.

“I know,” he murmured. “Would it help if I told you that you had nothing to fear from me this night?”

The knot in her belly drew tighter. It did help. And then, it didn’t. She’d been poised for Garrett to take advantage of their situation. The knowledge he wouldn’t was disappointing. Since she’d met him, Garrett had taken every small gap to press forbidden kisses and touches on her. Now, when presented with the perfect opportunity, he announced his intention to desist. It sat ill with her and made no sense. The dark gave her the sort of courage she wouldn’t have had otherwise. “Why not?”

He choked and stilled beside her. “We may as well air this.” His voice sounded resigned as he sat up. “Beatrice.”

Beatrice shivered and hugged her knees tighter. She sensed she wasn’t going to like what he said next.

“I will take you to your father in the morning.” He drew a loud breath. “Once you are safe, we will part ways.”

“What?” Her middle gave a sharp twist. She could see the glimmer of his eyes as he looked at her. “Why?”

“You know why.” His fingers brushed against her cheek.

She did know why but she didn’t want to admit the thought. Beatrice leaned her cheek into the light contact.

“You will tell your father Tom led you to London.”

“Why?”

He groaned. “Your father will not like that we were alone like this. Your reputation will be damaged, and I am not the man he would have chosen for you. I will never be that man.”

Beatrice wanted to deny his words, but she couldn’t. “Nothing has happened,” she said, instead.

His laughter was tinged with sadness. “Much has happened, Beatrice.” His warm palm cupped her cheek. “Too much for words, but I am not the man who set out on this journey with you. The only thing I can give you, is to return you to your father the same way you set out.”

“You are speaking of my virtue.” Beatrice didn’t know how she could speak so boldly. Her face heated.

“Aye.” His hand left her face.

She missed the contact immediately. Inside she felt bleak, desolate.

His shoulder pressed against hers. The water lapped against the pilings beneath the shed.

Part of her had known, all along, this couldn’t last. Their worlds were leagues apart, but he’d been thrilling and exciting and her soul had craved adventure. Now, she’d had her fill of adventure and the craving had changed. She pictured her life without him. Her mind veered sharply away from the image. It invented a slew of fancies in which she and Garrett could continue to see each other. Wild, implausible imaginings where he would live in the village and she would come to him. It felt wrong. It felt sordid and underhanded. Discovery was only a matter of time. And Garrett would pay the dearest price. She had no words and she leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

He found her fingers and intertwined them with his.

“I cannot bear to think on it,” she whispered.

“Aye.” He took a deep breath. “I am not a good man, Beatrice.” He pressed her fingers to silence her when she would speak. “You know almost nothing of me.”

“Tell me.” Suddenly, she ached to know it all. All the questions she’d had when they first met and the hundreds of others that had gathered along this journey. Why was the pouch now missing from about his neck? Why did he look angry one minute and the seducer the next? She wanted to understand all the parts of him and carry them in her heart.

“Nay, Beatrice. I would have you remember me as we are now. As we have been on this journey. It is how I shall remember you.”

Dear Lord, it sounded so final.

“Please. I do not want to speak of it. “ Beatrice screwed her eyes shut. A giant hand closed over her throat. His words were like barbs. The morning would come and she would reach her father. It was soon enough. For now, she had this and it would have to last her for the remainder of the days coming.

“Be happy, Beatrice.” He raised her fingers. His mouth was hot across her knuckles. “Find a good man and have his babies. But for me, make sure it is a man who cherishes you as he should.”

“Nay.” She couldn’t contemplate a man who could make her feel this way. If she pictured such a man, the face he wore was Garrett’s. She pressed her face against the place where his neck and shoulder joined. Slowly, reverently, she drew in the unique musk of Garrett. Leather, fire, and man.

“I love you.” So much that it hurt to even say the words.

Garrett circled her shoulder with his arm. “I wish you had not said that.” He rested his cheek on her head. “Because, God help us both, but I love you, too.”

He loved her. Joy shoved the hurt aside, and then it returned in a terrible rush. Tears sprang in her eyes. When he was gone, she would have the knowledge of his love to hug tight to her breast. Would it be enough? Would anything ever be enough again? Never. “I will not marry.” Beatrice closed her eyes against the swell of heartache. “Not now.”

“Do not say so.” He turned her to face him. “It makes it harder to leave, knowing you are pining for something that cannot be.”

The dark pulsed around them. The dull ache in Beatrice’s chest grew with each beat of her heart. This night, this was the only one they had. “But we have now.” She slipped her hands around his neck.

The muscles of his shoulders tensed beneath her fingers.

“We are here and we have this one moment,” she whispered.

“Do not.” His voice was hoarse.

“I must.” His words were like a sharp dagger to her bruised heart. “Do you not want me?”

“Beatrice.” His muscles trembled beneath her touch. “I want nothing more than to love you. I ache for you, but—”

“Nay.” It was all she needed to know. Beatrice put her fingers over his lips. “The morning will come soon enough. Can we not pretend for one night?”

His eyes glittered down at her. A muscle jumped as he clenched his teeth.

“Please, Garrett.”

With a groan he reached for her, cupping her face in his hands. He stared at her for one endless moment before his mouth covered hers.

Her final, ragged plea undid him. He could deny her nothing. Garrett found her mouth and plundered. This wasn’t the artful kiss of the seducer, but raw and primal, as he sought to slake his need for her. She rampaged through his senses in a flood of heat, the taste and feel of her, the smell that clung to her skin.

She opened her lips to his demand and Garrett was lost. He had to have her, even if it was only for one stolen piece of time. She made soft, needy sounds in the back of her throat. His head spun. She needed him as badly as he needed her and the knowledge drove him to the edge of insanity.

* * * *

Beatrice clung to him like she might hold him to her forever.

Garrett lowered her to the soft piles of wool.

She met the bold thrust of his tongue with hers. She loved him and she poured her love into her kiss. For now, he was hers and she was greedy to have it all. Her hands dove beneath his tunic. His skin was hot against her palms. Hot and smooth over the strength of his muscle. She spread her fingers wide to imprint the feel of him on her hands.

His broke the kiss to rip his tunic over his head.

He was beautiful. Shades of darkness outlined the ridges and the hollows of his body. He was different from her, big and male. Her beautiful, strong man. Hers. The knowledge was heady, better than anything. Impatiently, she pulled his head closer. Fastening her mouth over his, losing herself in the taste and feel of his mouth.

She arched her back into his strength. Her breasts against his chest. He was hard where she was soft, ridged where she was hollow.

His hands slipped over her rib cage, seeking her breasts.

She murmured her encouragement. His hands on her made her cry out with pleasure. The sensation shot straight from her rigid nipples to her core.

He pulled his mouth from hers to place it where his hands had been, dampening the fabric of her bliaut with his tongue until it clung to her breasts and she felt the heat of his mouth.

It was not enough. Not nearly. She writhed beneath him as his mouth continued to torment her through the cloth.

She pushed him up. The fabric between them had to go. She tore at the ties of her bliaut.

Garrett sat back on his heels and watched as she tugged it over her head.

Her chainse followed. The air was cool against her naked skin, his eyes flaming. She leant back on her hands, letting him look his full.

“Sweet Jesu, but you are beautiful.”

She felt it, with his gaze powerful on her body. “Touch me, Garrett.”

He reached for her with hard hands. His bare chest against her breasts made her whimper. Her skin was alive with thousands of prickling points, all demanding attention. It became more than want. She needed him. Boldly, she cupped his buttocks in her hands and pressed him closer to her heat. She loved the sensation, and she did it again.

“Beatrice.” He tore his mouth away. “You are going to kill me if you carry on.”

The power she held tingled through her muscles. She laughed and slid her leg between his. He was hard against her thigh. He’d done these wicked things to her and she delighted in doing them back to him.

He trembled against her. She made this strong man shake. It made her bolder.

“Nay.” He caught her hands. “We need to go slower.” He reared back and sat on his heels, breathing hard as he stared at her.

She didn’t want to go slow. “Why?”

“You are a maid, sweeting. I do not want to hurt you.”

“I am well, Garrett.” Impatience had her reaching for him. She wanted all of him and she wanted it now.

He raised her hands over her head and stretched above her.

She couldn’t touch him if he held her hands. She moaned her protest and tried to work her hands free. His control irked her, ran contrary to her desire.

He tightened his grip on her wrists. “For the love of God, Beatrice. Will you please let me lead?”

“Aye, Garrett. But make haste. Or I am going to crawl out of my skin if you do not do something. Now.”

He closed his eyes. “And try not to speak.” He lowered his face to her neck. “You are only making this harder.”

“This?” She nudged his hardness with her thigh.

“Aye, that as well.”

She giggled and did it again.

He nipped her ear, then soothed the small hurt by sucking on the spot. “I have spent nights imagining this, and I will not be rushed.” Hot, sucking kisses trailed her neck to her shoulder.

She delighted in the heat of his mouth. She wanted to show him how much. Beatrice writhed, but he still held her wrists in one of his large hands.

He moved down her chest to the tips of her breasts. He blew hot air against her nipples.

“Garrett.” She bowed her back for more. This was better.

He obliged her by taking her nipple and sucking it deep within the heated cavern of his mouth. “Do you like that, sweeting?”

“Aye,” Beatrice sighed, “more.”

He laughed and moved his attention to the other breast.

Beatrice twisted beneath him, trying to free her hands, but he kept them fast. This was lovely, it was wondrous, but she wanted everything. She remembered her glorious release in the forest and she wanted it. Her hips bucked beneath him, grinding against his hard shaft.

He confounded her by shifting to the side. “Patience.”

“Nay.” Beatrice mewled her protest. She had no patience left. Every part of her demanded that he get on with satisfying her need.

His hand slid down her ribs toward her hip. His mouth continued to pay homage to her breasts as his hand nudged between her thighs.

Beatrice opened for his touch, eager to feel him where she ached the most.

Still, he tortured her, learning her body by feel as he caressed her hip, the top of her thigh, ran his fingers over her inner thigh.

So close and not nearly close enough. Beatrice growled and shifted her hips toward his hand.

And, finally, he slid his fingers over her swollen flesh. Aye. Beatrice cried out at the touch.

“Jesu, Beatrice, you are almost ready for me.” He abandoned her breasts to kiss her.

Finally, he released her wrists and Beatrice dug her hands in his hair. She held him fast and kissed him.

He met her passion.

Beatrice let the wildness grow within her.

His fingers caressed the pulsing nubbin between her curls before sliding into the core of her.

Her thighs opened wider in silent invitation and Garrett eased between them. He took one of her hands and pressed it against his shaft.

Beatrice curved her fingers around his hardness. A twinge of trepidation pierced her abandon. He seemed overly large for her.

Garrett wriggled out of his chausses and she touched his naked flesh. He was steel and silk in her hand. Beatrice tightened her grip.

“Like this.” He guided her movement over him with his hand. Cursing softly as she stroked him. He moaned and dropped his head back. Beatrice grew bolder with her touch. She wanted to do to him what he did to her.

“Enough.” He kissed her palm. “No more, or this will end now.”

He sat up and Beatrice drank in the sight of him. His shaft stood rigid from the apex of his thighs. He was a beautiful man. She wanted him to be hers and to make her his.

Slowly, Garrett widened her thighs with his hands. He looked at her. His eyes glowed hot.

She was momentarily embarrassed to be totally exposed to his gaze.

“Perfect.” He caressed her, watching the move of his fingers on her with hooded eyes. His finger dipped inside her.

Beatrice dropped back onto the wool as he continued to touch her. He stroked the sweet spot with his thumb and any shyness was forgotten.

“I want to put my mouth on you,” he said. “I need to taste you.”

Shock and excitement bolted through Beatrice. She hadn’t imagined such a thing.