Claiming(12)

She turned to him suddenly, her jaw lifted, its line strong and uncompromising in the flickering light. Her brown eyes flashed. She was a force to be reckoned with all right but he’d never been interested in meekness, not in animals, nor in women. She was like no other woman he’d ever wanted before, but he had to restrain himself, take her slowly, seduce her little by little. But, on second thoughts, maybe a little playful touching would not go amiss.

“I know not of what you are thinking, my lord, to make your hand stay, unwelcome on my thigh, or for your eyes to be so dark and penetrating.”

“You are possibly better off not knowing.”

“Is it so bad then?”

“No worse than any of my men who are enjoying themselves with your women.”

“Yes.” She looked around. “And my women seem not to dislike the attention.”

“And why would they?” He clicked his fingers and the musicians began a number for dancing. Couples jumped up and began to form a circle.

“You dance, my lady?”

“No, I do not. My priest—thank the Lord he is not in attendance—would never allow it. Says it leads to unclean kissing.”

He laughed. “I think all kissing is unclean to the church. But we are not at church and I’m all for dancing and kissing. Come.” He stood and grabbed her hand. “I will show you how to dance.”

People laughed and smiled to see the usually non-festive lady of the castle escorted, obviously unwillingly, onto the floor. His hand held hers tight while a knight took hold of her other, after a briefly nervous look which the music soon overtook. People rushed to remove the trestle tables to give the dancers space, and they were soon shuffling, skipping and jumping in a circle as everyone joined the minstrels in singing the ronde.

Rowena tried to pull away from Saher’s hand but he held it too firmly. He smiled to himself as he watched her try to retain her dignity and follow the other dancers. It didn’t take long before he noticed a change in her. Slowly the pounding of the drum began to filter through the vibrations on the rush-strewn floor up into her body. He still gripped her hand, urging her to follow the dictates of her body, and she did—her movements becoming more fluid as she allowed only the rhythm of the drum and the harmony of the voices to enter her mind.

The ronde turned into another and another and still the dancers whirled, slowly slipping their hands away from the circle until only pairs of dancers twirled each other around, hair flying as clothing slipped out of place. When the music finally ceased, the Hall was wild with people hugging, laughing and singing. So no-one noticed when he led her out of the hall, toward the back chamber where they could have some privacy. She was out of breath and laughing as he slipped his arms around her waist and lifted her up against him. The laughing stilled as they both became aware of their bodies pressed against each others. Slowly he allowed her to slip down his body, until her feet were once more on the floor. He’d felt every slight movement of her rounded breasts against his chest, her sex against his before her stomach rested against his sex, arousing him further.

Beyond the chamber the music continued, growing more ribald. He shifted his hands so his thumbs could sweep the undersides of her breasts and lift them slightly. She gasped and he looked down at the thin muslin that barely covered them. Her nipples were just visible, as rosy as her lips, their points tight and hard.

She pulled away. “Enough, sir. We will be missed.” She readjusted her gown and looked around.

“I very much doubt it. Listen, ’tis a night for merriment and… loving.” So much for going slowly. He couldn’t resist her.

She looked back at him then and he saw the tension in her eyes. She was as aroused as he was, but scared still. He placed his hands either side of her face and drew her close to him. He half-expected her to pull away but she didn’t. He could see from her opened lips, her quickened breath and dark eyes that she wanted him. “Tell me when to stop, my lady, for I want to give you only what you wish to receive.”

He hesitated but she made no sound, seemingly caught in a haze of expectation. He couldn’t resist her softly plumped lips—parted and inviting—and he dipped his head to hers and kissed her. To his surprise she didn’t stand immobile, but moved her mouth against his, while allowing his hands to caress her lush curves.

His whole body leaped at the meeting of their mouths and bodies, as if it’d come to life. It was like nothing he’d felt before. This was no barely satisfactory coupling, no fumbling desire to ease an itch. He could swear her passionate spirit was focused in her lips, communicating its strength and urgency to him, sparking into life a corresponding intensity and passion he thought had been subdued through the years of fighting and bloodshed. She breathed life into his darkness. And he wanted more.