The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) (10 page)

She made a
frantic little sound as her body stretched to admit him. “Hugh, nay—you’re too—
Ohhhh.” Her eyes closed and her head tipped back over his arm as he reached
down between their bodies to stroke the sensitive little bud there.

“Trust me,” he
demanded, at that moment completely unable to gentle his voice. He gritted his
teeth, feeling tiny muscles quiver around him as her body adjusted to his
invasion. The tight clasp of her feminine passage was a siren call to madness.
She moved tentatively, lifting her hips in an instinctive need to take more of
him, and his control shattered, exploded beyond recall. He surged forward,
filling her completely. “That’s it, sweetheart.
Take it
. Let it happen.”

She screamed, a
short, sharp sound of shock and excitement, and convulsed beneath him. And in
that last second of rational thought he knew she’d been so close to completion,
his entry had been enough to sweep her over the edge into ecstasy. Then his own
release roared through him, the force of it almost tearing him apart, until he
knew nothing but the pounding of his heart against her breast and her soft
little gasps as she went limp beneath him.

Annith surfaced
a long time later to feel Hugh kissing her, brushing his lips gently across her
lashes, her cheeks, her mouth. He was lying half over her, wrapping her in the
heat of his body. She wondered vaguely if she should retrieve her shift, but
lying with him like this, feeling his strong heartbeat against her breast,
their legs entwined, was simply too seductive. Modesty didn’t stand a chance.

“Annith,” he
murmured. “Sweetheart.”

She opened her
eyes to meet a gaze of such heart-shaking tenderness, she felt her breath
catch.

He heard the
tiny sound, and stroked his thumb across her lips. “Did I hurt you, darling
girl? I—”

“Oh, nay,” she
said swiftly. “Never. Indeed, ’twas…”

“What?”

“Oh, Hugh, ’twas
the most wondrous feeling, but so unexpected. It startled me and I couldn’t
hold on to it, and then…’twas over.”

He winced. “Aye,
you don’t need to remind me,” he said gruffly. “I know I rushed you at the end,
sweetheart. I fear you have a very potent effect on my control.”

“Oh?” She
thought about that, her lips curving. “I think I like you losing control.”

He laughed
softly, kissed her, then disentangled their limbs and rose from the bed.
Completely unconcerned by his nakedness, he walked into the alcove that housed
the bath.

Annith pulled
the sheet over herself, watching dreamily when he emerged with one of her drying
cloths, dampened, in his hand. He moved with a fluid masculine power that was
riveting, and his body was a sight she could have studied forever. When her
gaze dropped to his sex she was fascinated to see that his proportions were
slightly less alarming than they had been earlier.

He smiled as he
sat down on the edge of the bed. “Here—” He took hold of the sheet. “Let me
make you more comfortable, little wife.”

Her fascination
with the male form promptly vanished as she realized his intention. “Oh, nay,
’tis not—”

He smothered the
rest with a kiss, then removed the sheet and gently parted her legs. The cloth
felt deliciously cool, even if the rest of her was turning a bright shade of
pink.

“Better?” he
asked, smoothing the cloth between her legs. She barely suppressed a gasp. He
was using just enough pressure to stir her senses all over again. And then he
tossed the cloth aside, bent, and pressed a kiss to the place he’d been
soothing.

Annith shot
straight upright in the bed. “My lord, what do you think you’re doing?” she
squeaked, snatching at the sheet to cover herself.

Hugh promptly
pinned the sheet to the bed. His grin was unbelievably wicked. “You were lying
there like a feast laid out before me and I couldn’t resist,” he said
outrageously.

“Ohh! You…you…”
She stopped, stunned to find that her still quivering senses were causing her
to entertain an equally outrageous notion. Her gaze lowered to his chest. She
put out a hand and stroked him, rather as she would a large, unpredictable
beast. “Hugh?”

His response was
a low growl in his throat.

Aye, she thought
in shivery delight. Definitely a beast. She wondered how far he could be pushed
before he lost control again. “Do you think we could do it again? Now that I
know what happens, I want to feel every moment.”

The muscles
beneath her hand turned to steel. “Whenever you wish,” he said softly, but his
eyes were anything but soft. They glittered with an intensity that sent more
thrilling shivers through her. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to touch
you
this time,” she whispered.

With one searing
look, he shifted over to her other side and stretched out on the bed. He folded
his arms behind his head. “Then touch me, sweetheart.”

Annith gazed at
the fascinating male territory spread before her. For an instant shyness
hovered as she remembered she was sitting there naked, but what she wanted was
too tantalizing to let shyness intervene. Especially when she realized Hugh was
ceding control to her.

For the moment,
anyway, she corrected herself, with a swift glance at the tense set of his
face. His lashes were half lowered, but he watched her; she could see the gleam
in the hazel depths of his eyes. The moment might not last; she had to take
advantage of it.

Tentatively, and
then, when he didn’t move, more surely, she curved her hands around his
shoulders, savoring the strength there, before lowering her palms to his chest.
Her fingers threaded through crisp black hair and encountered two male nipples.
When she stroked them experimentally a low sound rumbled in his chest.

“Oh,” she
breathed. “You like that, too.”

He didn’t
answer, but his eyes narrowed further. Feeling very daring, she continued to
stroke him until he made a move as though he might stop her. Then he went still
again and she slid her hands down to the ridges of muscle across his belly. Her
gaze followed, until both hands and gaze collided with the rigid length of his
erection.

“Saints above,”
she said faintly. It wasn’t only her voice that was suddenly faint. How had she
ever taken him into her body? Apparently that question was going to be answered
very shortly because she could feel herself growing soft and moist in readiness
to take him again. And he hadn’t even touched her.

“I did say you
have a potent effect on me,” he said, sounding as if he was speaking through
his teeth.

“Aye, but—” She
stroked a finger down the length of him and was startled when he got even
bigger and harder. “Oh my goodness! Hugh, such a transformation is truly
astonishing.”

A predatory grin
flashed across his face. “It happens a lot around you, so I’m sure you’ll get
used to it.”

She barely heard
him, so enthralled was she by the effect of her touch on him. She put her head
on one side, studying him, then before she had even realized her intention, she
bent her head and kissed him.

The next thing
she knew she was on her back and Hugh was lying over her.

“That’ll do it,”
he said, the roughness in his voice sending excitement feathering over her
skin. He began to kiss her, deep invading kisses that had her consigning
further experiments to another night. She felt his hands on her breasts, and
cried out at the fierce urgency in him. His touch was firmer this time, his
mouth harder, more demanding. By the time he nudged her legs apart and pressed
himself against her, she was almost drunk with pleasure, the hardness of his
chest against her breasts both torment and delight.

He framed her
face between his hands and gazed deeply into her eyes as he began to enter her.
“How did I ever get so lucky as to find you?” he rasped.

Annith had to
blink back a sudden rush of tears as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. He
saw them and bent his head to kiss her lashes. “Am I hurting you, darling? Do
you want me to stop?”

“Nay,” she
breathed, and held him tighter. She was a little tender from the first time,
but she would have to be in far greater pain to have him stop, and even then
she would probably bear it for the breathtaking intimacy of becoming one with
him, the unimaginable pleasure flooding her as he completed their joining with
devastating care.

Nay, her tears
weren’t because he was hurting her; he wasn’t. ’Twas her heart that was filled
to overflowing. She had loved him before this moment, but it had been a girlish
love, she knew now, innocent and gentle. Now, as she felt Hugh become part of
her, love for him filled her entire being. She felt as if she belonged to him,
utterly. As if she was his, heart, body, and soul, for all eternity.

Then he moved,
retreating an inch before pressing forward again, and physical sensation began
to take over. His invasion of her body still shocked her senses, but the
thrilling excitement of lying, deliciously crushed, beneath him, of feeling him
inside her, hot and hard and deep, swept her beyond shock, beyond thought even.

He began to move
again, and this time there was no gentleness. She was caught up in a fierce
whirlwind of passion that left no room for anything except the building tension
that demanded release. She clung to him, every powerful thrust of his body
making her cry out with the incredible pleasure of it, until she had no more
breath and surrendered to the storm of ecstasy sweeping through her. Somewhere
through the whirling winds, she heard the rough sound that burst from his
throat, felt the muscles in his back turn to steel as he found his own release.
Then she sank into the sweet darkness of utter completion.

*         
*          *

Hugh cradled
Annith with one arm, keeping her close to his side, her head resting on his
shoulder as she slept. Her lashes were dark silky crescents against her cheeks,
her mouth soft, still rosy from his kisses. She looked incredibly small and
fragile beside him, yet her delicate body held so much passion. She had
embraced desire with such sweet innocence he had all but lost his senses. And
when she had studied him, her head on one side, then bent to caress him with
her mouth—

His body
hardened with a speed that stunned him given the fact that he was completely
satiated. On the other hand, he suspected the same reaction would occur
whenever he recalled that single moment. For the rest of his life.

Hugh grinned to
himself. There were worse fates that could befall a man. And Annith had shown
herself more than willing to do something about the matter. Unfortunately, she was
in no shape to do anything right now. She needed her sleep. And he needed to
plan. They would leave for Gloucester tomorrow, would probably take two days on
the road, because he doubted any new bride could sit a horse for over thirty
miles, and—

With a sharp cry
Annith shot upright and flung herself toward the edge of the bed.

Hugh reacted
instantly, lunging after her and hauling her back before she hit the floor.
“Annith—”

He stopped, his
heart pounding against his ribs, as he realized she was still asleep. But even
as he wondered whether to wake her, she gasped, turning like a creature at bay
and recoiling from him as far as his grip on her arm would allow. Her eyes were
wide, almost black with terror, and her free hand was across her mouth as
though trying to stifle sound.

Hugh felt as if
he had stepped over the edge of a precipice. For one terrible moment, he
thought Annith had remembered her past but forgotten everything of the past few
days, including him. Then she blinked, and reached out a trembling hand.

“Hugh?”

“Dear God. Come
here, sweetheart.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she might be
wrenched from him at any second. She was shaking uncontrollably, but her arms
went around him and she held him just as tightly.

“They were going
to kill me,” she cried against his shoulder. Her voice was so high and thin the
words were almost soundless. “
They were going to kill me
.”

“’Tis all right,
darling. No one can hurt you now. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring the words over
and over, not sure if he was trying to calm her or himself. Finally, her grip
on him eased a little and he felt her drag in a shuddering breath.

“Who was going
to kill you?” he asked, fighting to leash the white-hot fury now roaring
through him. It took every ounce of control he possessed, and he didn’t dare
let her see his face. He knew murder looked out of his eyes.

“Lord de Beche,”
she whispered. “And the others.”

“
Others?
”

She was still
trembling so much the words were barely distinguishable. “His f…friends.”

He closed his
eyes briefly. “Do you remember everything?”

“I think so.”

“Can you tell
me?”

She nodded, and
he reached out to retrieve her shift from the end of the bed. He eased her arms
from around him so he could help her into the garment. She hugged it to her,
still shivering, as he shoved the pillows against the headboard, but when she
realized what he intended, she cried out. “Nay, not here. Not here where we—”

“Sssh.” He
cradled her face between his hands. “All right, sweetheart. We’ll sit in the
chair.”

When the look of
panic left her eyes, he yanked a blanket off the bed, picked her up and carried
her over to the chair. He sat down with her on his lap and wrapped the blanket
around them both. “Better?” he asked gently.

“Aye.” She
nestled closer as he stroked her with his free hand, the warmth of his body
beginning to ease her tremors. “I’m sorry.”

“Hush. You have
nothing to be sorry for.” He let her sit quietly for a minute, before asking,
“How do you know they were going to kill you, sweetheart?”

“I heard them,”
she whispered. “Talking about it.”

His hand
clenched. “I think you’d better start from the beginning,” he said, carefully
relaxing his fingers. “From when you left the priory. According to the
Prioress, you reached Gloucestershire safely.”