A Knight In Her Arms(6)

“You are more beautiful than I remembered, lady,” he rasped, and bent his head to taste her through the cloth. His hot mouth on her wet flesh sent a shiver through her, an aching tangle of feelings and emotions that left her gasping.

“I don’t . . .”

He nipped at one hard bud, making her moan again, a breathy sound in her throat, and her arms slipped around his neck, clinging to the wet strands of his blond hair, hanging on as if she really was about to fall into some unknown place.

His mouth was back on hers, and the kissing was so pleasurable it was a moment before she felt the heat of his hand on her thigh. Stroking, and then slowly, slowly drawing up the fabric of her skirt. His mouth moved down over her throat to her breasts, entirely visible now through the wet silk. Gradually his hand was hiking her skirt up her leg and she knew where he was headed.

There was an ache between her legs, a terrible urgency, to be touched and licked and taken. She squirmed at the images in her head, and as his hand slowly, slowly came closer, she felt as if she would scream. It was a kind of delicious torture and when at last she felt his warm hand on the flesh of her thigh she breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“They call you Ice Queen,” his voice was a rumble in his chest.

Somehow she met his eyes, her own lids so heavy she found them difficult to open. “Yes. I am.”

He smiled. “Are you?” Now his hand was on her inner thigh and she found herself opening her legs to allow him easier access. His fingers slid into the wet folds, stroking, finding the round pearl of her clitoris. She gasped and strained toward his fingers. Wanting more, needing more.

“You are hot. For an Ice Queen. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Please . . .” she heard herself struggle with the words.

He took her hand where it gripped his shoulder and slowly brought it down to the water. Her eyes widened as she felt the hard length of him beneath the soapy surface.

She should have snatched her hand back, but he was still caressing her pearl and something new and exciting was tightening and growing inside her. She found herself grasping him, running her hand up and down his cock, feeling him grow harder still.

“I’ve dreamed of you,” he said in a harsh voice. “You’re no Ice Queen, Isabella, and I’ll prove it.”

Deftly he ran his fingers across her tight folds, bringing her to her climax. Sweet ecstasy spread through her, something she had never felt before and had not believed existed until now. She wanted to scream, and instead pressed her face against his chest and bit him to stifle the sounds. She heard him curse, but then his arms wrapped around her, holding her, and his warm breath was in her hair.

She sprawled against him, boneless, breathing in the spicy male scent of him. In a moment she would have to sit up, to face him, to say something, but she hardly knew what. The Ice Queen had been shattered and he must be bursting with triumph.

“Lady? I did not mean to hurt you.”

“You did not hurt me.”

Her hair had come loose and the heavy weight of it sent it tumbling into the water, and now it hung heavy and sodden about her. She wondered if she looked as stunned as she felt. She tried to meet his blue eyes but her own skittered away before she could tell whether he was triumphant or not, and she stumbled to her feet, clinging to the wall to stay upright.

“We will speak later,” she said in a low voice, and pushing through the arras, left the room.

She thought he might have called her name but she couldn’t hear above the pounding of her heart and the tap of her running slippers as she flung herself up the stairs to her private rooms.

Her body had betrayed her. She had shown herself to be as weak and unreliable as other women, when a handsome man gave them that certain glance. What would happen to her now, would he take advantage, mock her in front of her servants and soldiers, treat her with the contempt that Hamon had always treated her?

When Isabella reached her room she flung herself down on the bed and did something she had not done since before her wedding to Hamon.

She let her emotions free and wept.

***

Isabella pushed her food around her plate and pretended to listen to the conversation but if she was honest the meal seemed to go on forever. She wanted it to be over; she wanted it to be tomorrow and Freemantle at her gate and the battle begun. Isabella could manage that, she could cope with fighting and orders and strategies.

She could not cope with Alric and the effect he had upon her.

To her relief he hadn’t shown by word or gesture or even glance what had happened between them. He treated her with courtesy and respect, and made some suggestions about her garrison.

“Tomorrow at first light we will prepare,” she said and he agreed. “I have posted lookouts in case they reach us tonight.”