Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(46)

He was so close. The heat of his body wove its magic around her. She detected the strong sinew of his muscular neck and the steady pulse that beat in a mesmerizing rhythm at the base of his throat. Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him. He pierced her with an uncontrollable fire and a longing that had more to do with her heart and less to do with physical aching. Turmoil invaded her entire being, but she could not draw away. Her voice soft, she said, “I want…”

“What Della? What do you want, princess?”

Della decided she liked the new version of his nickname much better. She was tired of being treated like she had no emotions, like she didn’t feel anything. She was tired of living in the past, tired of the nightmares she was constantly fighting. But, most of all, she was tired of fighting him—of resisting him. “I want you to…”

His breath caught. He didn’t move.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. She studied her hands, refusing to look at him. Her lips quivered and she knew she might cry soon. He would never understand how hard it was for her to make the request.

“Do not be embarrassed,” he said, like a rider trying to soothe a wild horse. “There is naught wrong with wanting when you are married.”

Della still didn’t look him in the eye. She felt exposed, defenseless. It had taken all of her energy to utter the words and she wondered why he hadn’t honored the request. Did he not like how she kissed him? Did she not do it right? It wasn’t surprising. What did she know of such things? A bitter, lonely pain unraveled in her chest and she knew she was unworthy of having asked it of him. Some people were not made for these things and she was one of them. Why did she let her guard down? Why did he have to look at her? She yelled at him to push him away, to keep herself safe from the pain being with a man caused. Why didn’t he go when she told him to leave?

“I’m sorry. It’s a stupid request.” Her hands shook violently and she clutched them together. “You have to get back to your guests. I will not interrupt again.”

Della stood, trying to retain as much dignity as she could. She swallowed over a lump in her throat, but it only moved to settle in her stomach. It was hard to breathe, and still she knew she must put on a brave face. She started to move away when she felt Brant’s hand on her elbow, stopping her. It didn’t take much to keep her from going.

She heard him stand, the near silent whisper of his clothes as he moved. He forced her to turn, but she couldn’t meet his gaze as she stared at the floor, twisting the toe of her shoe into the fur. Her heart ached painfully in her chest. She was so confused. The past waged a horrible war with the present and she was weary from a lifetime of fighting it.

“I have to see to the preparation of the eve’s meal. I did promise roasted mutton,” she said by way of an excuse. Della tugged halfheartedly at the pull on her elbow, willing him to let her go. “I have to inform Isa.”

“Look at me.” He tried to lift her chin. A wet tear slid over his finger before she could stop it. She’d kept her voice calm. If he wouldn’t have touched her, he wouldn’t have known she was crying. “Della?”

“Must be my woman’s time that’s making me weepy.” Della dashed the tears, knowing it was yet too early. She waited, but when he didn’t answer, she pulled her elbow from his grasp. Turning from him she went to the door, not making a sound.





Chapter Eight




“Ask me again,” Brant commanded before she could leave him.

“Why? Would you like to refuse me again? I told you it was a stupid request.” Della gingerly fingered the door latch, before turning to glare at him. The expression failed and she looked to the floor, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t really want you to kiss me.”

“Ask me again.”

“Why? I already know that I must be lacking, otherwise you would have. So please, stop trying to humiliate me and go attend to your guests.” Even as she spoke, she moved closer to him. “You have made your point. I will not bother you again.”

“Ask,” he persisted.

“Fine!” She took a deep, quivering breath, but her irritated tone quickly turned into an insecure whisper. “Will you teach me how to kiss you?”

“With much pleasure.” Brant drew closer.

Della took a deep breath, her throat working violently. Not backing away as his hand cupped her jaw, she let him lift her chin. She closed her eyes, waiting.

“Nay, I want you to look at me and know who you are kissing,” Brant murmured, an inch away from her mouth. “I will not have you pretending I’m someone else.”