“Nay.” Her voice was strangely hoarse. She swallowed, desperate to try to be rid of the tension that suddenly existed between them. “They are too full.”
He frowned. “How can plump lips, so luscious and inviting, be ‘too’ anything? My only criticism is that there is a smudge of something…” He licked his finger and ran it over her lips. She flinched as if struck. But it was not the force that struck her but something quite different. It was as if his finger held sway over her whole body from the fluttering of her stomach, like so many moths around a flame, to the beat of her heart that raced, although she made no movement.
She watched, fascinated, compelled, unable to move, as he brought the finger that had swept her lips, up to his. He opened his mouth and tasted it. She took a sharp intake of breath.
“Um,” he murmured. He looked up through lowered lids at her and his eyes were darker than before. She could not, for the life of her, look away. “It tastes…”
“Of wine?” She swallowed, determined to try to keep her wits about her. “Mayhap I was over-hasty when I drank after hawking.”
“No, it’s of the grass you sucked. But it tastes more than grass now. Something like cinnamon, apples and heather. Not sweet, not sour, but spicy, delicious.”
“I know not what you mean.”
“It tastes of you, Rowena.”
She gasped as his head dipped down to hers but there was no kiss. “Come, my lady, I will take you away from such sorrowful memories.”
Somehow her mind had drifted into a sensory haze once more and her usually strong limbs felt weak. He must have sensed it because, before she knew what he was doing, he’d lifted her onto her horse and they’d begun the descent to Gresham castle, away from the spectre of the decaying tower and its constant reminder of her need for independence.
There was no need now, to fret about how she would be free of Saher to get her silver to safety. There was no need to try to rid her body of the lazy torpor of arousal. His words and understanding had soothed her fears. And now both of her needs could be satisfied in the one act. Seduction. Tonight.
The Hall was less festive that night. There was a sense of expectation in the air. Saher’s knights had made themselves at home and her ladies and others of the household had become accustomed to their presence. The minstrels played an ancient air, languid and sensual. It was fitting. Tonight was the night she would sleep with Saher. Because he had to be gone by the morrow. And, if there were to be another chaste night, he would not leave and her schemes would be discovered. She could not risk the King being informed of her illegal gains, and she did not relish Saher discovering her deceit. She had to have him—she wanted to have him.
“You look pensive, lady.”
He inclined his head into her line of vision and plucked a piece of the most tender lamb from the trencher and offered it to her. The aroma of roasted meat and spices would have made her mouth water alone, if it weren’t for the look in his eyes—dark, passionate, full of humor and kindness. So many things, all at the same time.
She opened her mouth and he touched her lips with the meat, teasing her a few times before she opened her mouth further and he laid it on her tongue. She closed her lips around it and looked up into eyes that had darkened with desire. Gone was her initial apprehension. Within a few short days she’d gained the measure of the man. They were drawn to each other—body to body—and she did not look upon coupling with displeasure. But ’twas not so easy to dismiss a lifetime’s apprehension so quickly.
“So, tell me, why the lack of talk, why the lack of eating. You sit there like a nun, your hands folded on your lap, your eyes far away. What is it you’re dwelling on?”
How could she begin to voice her fears, her doubts, her longing? She shook her head as she chewed the meat slowly. “I am thinking of my sisters. My sister Melisende could always sense when a change was coming.”
“And you think there is a change on its way now?”
She nodded.
“Tell me about your younger sister. Where is she?”
“Melisende is within the convent attached to Blakesthorpe Priory. I cannot contact her. She’s preparing to be a novice.”
“And your other sister, Angelique, the one with the husband you suspect of being cruel?”
“She is away at present at one of her husband’s manors. She is kept a virtual prisoner.”
“I can release her for you if you’d like me to?”
For a moment a surge of hope shot up, only to be slammed down. “She’s about to have a baby and is hoping this will make things right between them.”