The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides) (25 page)

She did so, then drew back to watch it pucker. Leaning forward again, she sucked it into her mouth. His hiss of breath sounded like agony. Her arms slid about his waist. Her breasts slipped wet and hot against his belly. It felt strangely perfect. But there were sights to see. She moved lower, kissing his ribs, his abdomen, feeling his muscles tense and relax beneath her hands and lips.

His cock was as hard as sin, long and smooth. She touched it gently, feeling strangely unembarrassed. It felt wild, as if it contained a life of its own, smooth as satin against her lips. It danced beneath her kiss. She trickled her fingers over the tip and moved on. His scrotum felt hot, his thighs tense as she slipped her hand between them.

Her wrist smoothed against his thighs, her arm against his testicles. He moaned at the touch, distracting her. Her head felt heavy when she lifted it. Still, there was naught she could do but slip up the endless length of his body to kiss his lips again.

His moan turned to a growl in her mouth. His arms encircled her, drawing her against him like hungry bands of steel.

His chest was hard and hot against her breasts. The muscles of his abdomen danced against her belly. Below that, she felt the hard evidence of his desire press between her thighs.

And now his hands were everywhere, cupping her buttocks, sweeping across her back, encompassing her waist. Need melded with desire, right with wrong. There were no feelings but those evoked by his hands. His voice felt hot, his hands spoke of magic, and between their bodies, Dragonhead: gleamed. Boden's lips brushed it aside as he kissed her throat, her chest, the aching tip of one breast.

The gasp must have been hers, but she knew not when it escaped. All the while his hands were working their sorcery, slipping over her hot skin, pulling her closer and closer, gripping her thighs and lifting them around his hips, drawing her irrevocably against him until it seemed like they were one—until they
were
one.

The world ground to a halt. Sara stopped, poised above him, her head thrust backward, her spine arched.

Twas the final chance to retreat, she knew, and yet it was but a fleeting thought before she slowly pressed him into her.

Heaven's gate closed around him. Boden sucked breath between his teeth. She gripped him hot and hard, soft as a velvet sheath, strong as a leather gauntlet, pulling him inside. He should retreat, he should retreat, but, oh God, he would not, not when she seemed as eager for this union as he, not when all his life seemed to be poised in this moment, waiting for the fulfillment of his worth. He pressed into her. Her head dropped back farther still. Her breasts, white as lily blossoms capped in pink, pressed closer to him. He pushed in harder and heard her gasp.

Had he hurt her? The thought made him freeze. It took a moment for her eyes to open. They were as blue as a dream, but smoky somehow, and in their depths he saw her worry.

"Sir...Boden." Her breathing had resumed, but it was harsh. "Do ye hate me so?" Her body rocked gently against his.

"Nay," he whispered. "Nay, I do not."

"Then please. Dunna. Stop."

Twas a soft plea, and disjointed, but Boden knew that she begged him to stop. Something ripped in his heart. So now was the true test. All those past trials that he thought had been difficult, all those battles, all the fear, they were as naught compared to the discipline required now. But he wasn't disciplined. He wasn't a gentleman. He was a cad, a fake, a rogue. And her eyes were so damned blue.

She was an angel, and for the angel, he would cease. With every bit of power in him, he forced himself to draw away.

"Please." There seemed to be panic in her voice now. It was husky, low, begging, as her thighs wrapped more tightly about him and her breasts dipped toward his chest. "Please dunna stop."

For a moment Boden couldn't believe his ears. But her heavenly rhythm against him had become more powerful.

She was right; there was a God! And He even watched over cads like himself.

Gratitude flowed through Boden, making his movements slow but sure. He pushed into her with careful patience now, watched her head fall back, heard her shallow breathing, felt her encompass him completely.

Water sloshed over his belly, between his legs, slapping against her buttocks, caressing his balls. Tension soared through him and the pace increased. He pushed in deeper still, faster, and she rode like the queen of the eve, her wild hair wet, her face shining, her thighs lean and strong.

They rocked together, reaching, panting, pleading for release, until finally in a raw explosion of feeling, Sara's hands clawed his chest. Her gasp filled the room and with that wild emotion, he exploded inside her.

He felt her go limp. Her head dropped forward, and her breasts, when they touched his chest, were as soft as thistledown.

He opened his eyes and breathed in heaven. The world was a masterpiece. The water was soft.

Her scent was delicious. Even the weight of her body against his own wounded one seemed perfect.

He found her lips with his own. Their kiss, too, was perfect, gentle, yielding. Where her body had been tense and driven, it was now relaxed and supple, like a fine piece of gold silk draped against him.

He kissed her shoulder, her arm, the bend of her elbow, her fingers. She didn't open her eyes, but shivered against his touch, making him need to explore further, to nibble on her pinky, lick the shallow cave of her palm.

"You
are
kind," he whispered, and slipping up beside her, kissed her lips.

She smiled sleepily. "I told ye that at our first meeting."

He kissed her ear. "Mayhap your stabbing me in the arm confused me. But I would gladly be stabbed again..." Bending, he smoothed his lips across her breast. "For this."

She shivered at his touch. ' 'Tell me, Sir Knight, do ye think I did this out of kindness?"

"Why else?"

Her hand felt wet and warm as it slipped over his chest to his abdomen.

"Because I couldna resist," she whispered. "Because every moment I was with ye I thought of this."

"Then our dreams have truly meshed," he said.

She sighed. The sound caressed his ears. He pulled her nearer, draping her arm about him until she was pulled close. Then he laid her back in the water. Her hair floated on the surface, molten gold, soft as kitten fur. He tangled his fingers in it, glorying in the feel, in the smooth length of her body stretched beside him.

The sponge floated nearby. He reached for it like one in a dream and smoothed it across her shoulder, over her breast, down her abdomen. Again she shivered. Water sloshed over her. A bar of scented soap lay on the nearby commode. He picked it up and slipped his fingers into her hair again, massaging her scalp, running his hands through the silky strands, then wrapping the great length around her arm, spreading it over her breasts, and then, because he could not help himself, kissing the nipple that shone through the gossamer strands.

She reached for him, pulling him down, and now they lay side by side, embraced by the scented water and each other. Their lips met. Their limbs entwined. Hair swirled about them in gold and black, tangling, mating. And so they lay like water nymphs, wrapped in ecstasy, until Boden felt Sara's head droop against his arm.

He roused himself with difficulty and realized in a moment of panic that she had fallen asleep.

She felt light and soft as he lifted her from the water. No pain accompanied his journey to the bed. In fact, ecstasy would have well described every element of his life at that moment.

She moaned as he laid her on the mattress, and it was all he could do to abandon her long enough to retrieve a blanket and the board of food. He fed her with his own fingers, until finally sated, and weary, they fell asleep wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, pressed against each other.

Dreams of her filled his head, his heart, and in the middle of the night he reached for her again, pulling her against him, nuzzling her breast until she arched against him.

It seemed utterly right that he slip inside her, almost ordained that she wrap her legs about him, natural as the sky that she urged him farther in, rasping his name until she went limp and he exploded once more.

Sleep found them again, that soft warm friend, caressing them in the darkness, bringing them closer still until Boden awoke. Only minutes had passed, he was sure, and yet he was hard again, eager, nay, desperate, for her to hold him inside her, to fill her, to love her. Already it seemed that they were rocking together on the border of ecstasy. He opened his eyes slowly. She was there, her lips slightly parted, her hair a wild hurricane of gold.

A faint glimmer of pink light seemed to glow in the room, but he was not surprised, for had not his world taken on a new light? She shone. Twas the only explanation. Night had just begun. She was his, body and soul, for now and ever. Dreams still rocked him. The sweet essence of her medicine still soothed him.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. She moaned softly and turned toward him. Her eyes did not open, but her legs did, wrapping around him, pulling him in. And he did not resist. Twas all so right, so simple, so obvious. They were meant to be together, bonded for life. Anyone would know that.

Twas not a doubt. He arched into her. She pushed back.

The world opened its happy arms.

"Madam!" A voice, harsh as reality, broke into the world. "The baby is crying!"

Boden felt Sara's body go stiff, felt his world snap back into place, and then her eyes popped open.

"Dear God!" she gasped and like a charger at full tilt, tumbled him onto the floor.

Chapter
16

"What are ye doing?" she gasped, scrambling to her feet in the middle of the bed.

But Boden couldn't answer, for hot pain sliced through him like a nail through an iron shoe.

"Jesus!" The word barely hissed between his teeth.

"Madam?" called the woman again, and now they heard the baby's cry. "Tis sorry I am to disturb you, but I must be starting my morning chores."

From the agony of the floor, Boden heard the sharp gasp of Sara's breath and looked up just in time to see her stare down in shocked speechlessness at her own nudity.

"I'm naked!"

"Aye." It was the only word he could manage. For a moment the pain left his body, for even now, with the cold light of reality gripping his world in its cruel hand, she was stunning. She, however, did not seem to find anything wonderful, about her state. In fact, she snatched a blanket from the bed and whipped it about her body with the speed of an executioner's hand.

The sun dimmed in Boden's befuddled mind. "Sara," he breathed, reaching for her.

She lunged from the bed, her bare legs visible past the knee where the blanket kindly parted.

"Madam?"

She jerked toward the door. Sheer panic showed on her face, and the hand that held her blanket in place seemed to tremble. "I am... coming," she said, but her tone made it sound like a question.

Hard reality turned to pain once more, and Boden, under Sara's wild stare, picked himself up from the floor. Then she was rushing to the door. It opened beneath her shaky hand.

"Madam," said the innkeeper's wife. "Tis sorry I am to wake you."

"Nay. Nay," Sara breathed. Dear God! What had she done? "I was... I was awake."

"Oh," said the woman, but her brows had risen into her gray wimple and Sara realized suddenly that the woman could see past her own body.

She turned with a snap and saw Boden standing beside the bed, his lower body hastily wrapped in a blanket, his torso bare and gleaming with oil and hard muscle.

"Well..." The woman giggled like an untried maid. "I guess I can understand the cause. But even with a leg wound?" She giggled again. "You're a lucky lass indeed. Oh, here, " she said, handing over a pair of black hose. "To replace that ones what was ruined. And here..." She handed Thomas to her much more regretfully.

Dear God, how could she have neglected the child so? Sara wondered. What kind of woman was she? She reached out, took the babe from the woman's arms and cuddled him against her chest. "I am in your debt," she breathed, but the woman hushed hSr with a wave of her plump hand.

"Twas no trouble atall. It has been many a year since my own babes were so tiny. He was a saint. Slept like a lambkin all night. But he just awoke and I've had no time to feed him. A pleasure it was, really. And I hope..." She glanced past Sara again with a sparkle in her eye. "I suspect it was just as big a pleasure for you."

She bustled away. Sara stood speechless and immobile.

Thomas whimpered and sucked on his fist. What had she done? Against her chest, Dragonhead glowed warm and heavy.

She closed the door like one in a dream and turned back toward the room, refusing to lift her gaze. The air struck her like a broom to the midsection. The scent here was heavy and sweet in comparison to the draft from the hall.

Fiona's medicine! she thought, and suddenly she remembered her aunt's words. Tis the strongest potion at my disposal, but there are risks with it, for though it relaxes and eases pain it can boggle the mind if the steam is inhaled.

Slowly, irrevocably, Sara lifted her gaze to Boden's. He stood like a frozen statue, his great chest bare and just as beautiful as it appeared in her hazy memories. "Dear God!"

"What?'' His voice was no more than a rumble.

She hadn't meant to say the words aloud, but he was watching her now like a hawk on a mouse.

' 'What have we done?" she whispered.

"Nearly everything." Boden's voice was deep as he stepped toward her. "And not nearly enough. Sara..."

"Nay. Dunna say it." Her voice shook, as did the hand she stretched toward him. "Dear Lord. I am sorry."

"Sorry? If the truth be told, lass, sorry is a far distance from where I am."

"I didn't mean to do it."

"That didn't seem to be the case some hours past."

She shook her head, looking frantic. "I drugged ye."

"Drugged—"

"I drugged me," she rasped, realizing suddenly that it was true.

"Sara—"