A Knight of Temptation(3)

Grendell was looming over her, naked. She’d seen naked men—as lady of the castle it was her job to bathe her father’s important cronies and guests, although she only soaped their backs before the maid took over. It was a courtesy and as a young unmarried woman she was not expected to fully comply.

Now, as Grendell smiled down at her, she saw how young and strong and handsome he was. He ran his hand along her body, pushing impatiently at her robe. His roughened palm lay heavy upon her thigh, and then slid toward her hip. His own thigh, thick with muscle and rough with manly hairs, pressed between hers. His smiling mouth came down upon her half naked breast, tongue twirling about her peaked nipple.

Melina cried out and awoke.

The next moment she was sitting up, blinking, at the sound of the door banging open and there, filling the doorway, was her bodyguard. He looked fiercesome, ready to protect her against all dangers, but when he saw it was only a sleepy-eyed girl, confusion filled his face.

“Melina?”

Her fair hair spilled over her shoulders, her robe revealing more of her naked body than it was covering. Dark eyes jerked to hers, holding her gaze for long moments, and then he reached behind him and closed the door. Quietly.

Melina realised her breathing had quickened. She knew she should tell him to go, but her throat seemed to have thickened and closed over, and she couldn’t utter a single word. He reached down and dragged his tunic up over his head and his naked chest gleamed in the soft light of the dying fire. Her dazed eyes noted strange markings upon his upper arm, a tattoo like a Celtic cross. And then a heartbeat later he was climbing onto the bed beside her.

Like her dream come true, he reached out and covered her plump breast with his palm. The sensation melted her and Melina made a little sound in her throat. His lips quirked and he smoothed his hand over her satin skin, before reaching to tweak the tight nipple with his finger and thumb.

“Why . . . ?” she began breathlessly, and couldn’t go on.

“I thought I heard you cry out,” he growled, and then bending his head began to suckle on her breast.

Her hips jerked up from the bed and she would have cried out, but his mouth quickly moved to hers and muffled her shriek.

“You came to save me,” she whispered, when she could speak again.

He quirked a brow at her. “I am your bodyguard, lady. My life is yours and I would stand before you and any danger.”

Her arms slid about his neck and she drew herself close to his face, her lips finding his. He reached behind her, planting his big hands on her buttocks and drawing her closer still, until her bare flesh was pressed to his breeches. He was swollen and hard against her, and suddenly the ache between her thighs was so powerful she needed to assuage it.

Melina rubbed her body against his like a cat. She slipped one leg from beneath him, hooking it over his narrow waist so that the bulge between his thighs was just where she wanted it. She remembered the maid and the groom, the way he had pushed against her so rhythmically and her gasps and moans of ecstasy.

Was this the way it was done?

“Oh Grendell,” she gasped, as the pressure of his body against her ache began to grow in waves of pleasure.

He was helping. Reaching down to stroke her pussy with his long, gentle fingers, adding to her hot slickness. Her moans were growing loader as she writhed against him, kissing his face blindly, her tongue tasting him just as she’d dreamed of night after night.

And then it happened, a wondrous rush of sensation that caught her up and held her fast for ever so long. When she returned to herself he was caressing her face, watching her with an expression in his eyes that was hot and tender all at once, an expression she had not seen there before. Then in a moment it was gone, replaced by his usual smirk.

“I have pleased you, lady?”

Melina swallowed, nodded, not trusting her voice. She reached up to touch the tattoo on his bicep. “This is pretty.”

He chuckled. “Pretty? Lady, this is the mark of a warrior. When I was in the

orphanage . . .”

“You were an orphan, Grendell?” Her heart ached for him.

He seemed not to want to answer her, but then he shrugged and said, “I was, but in the orphanage I made friends. Now there are five of us and although we are not related through blood, we all have the same desire to unite England once more.”

“Unite England? Only Matilda can do that, Grendell, as you well know. Only Matilda and Lord Saunders can help my father keep his lands.”

“His lands?” Grendell mocked, as if he knew better.

Melina tried to read his expression. There was anger and pain, but then he shook his head. “It matters not,” he whispered. “This is what matters.”