Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(85)
“Sword in practice.”
“Hmm, and this?” She moved her hand to his hip.
“Lance.”
“Is there a weapon with which you have not been hit?” she queried with a dubious shake of her head. “It would seem your body should have fallen apart by now.”
“Yea, methinks it has at times.”
“Do they still pain you?”
“Only some—like the club to my back.” He lifted his leg and touched his inner thigh. “And here, where a lance hit.”
Della leaned closer to his hand and narrowed her eyes. “I see naught.”
“Look closer,” he chuckled.
Della’s mouth fell open as she realized what he was doing and she hit his chest. “I don’t think you have a wound there, m’lord.”
“Then why does it hurt so?”
“You complain much.” Della wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her.
“Mayhap the wound is internal,” he persisted. “Will you check?”
Della reached to touch him. Stroking him boldly, she said, “I don’t feel a thing wrong with you.”
“Then put your hands above your head. I have a few more questions.” Brant smiled, remembering where he’d left off.
“Well?” She lifted her hands over her head, quirking a brow.
“Do you regret marrying me?” he asked in all seriousness. He hadn’t forgotten her refusal to answer him the night before. His heart held quiet, waiting an eternity for her to speak. He didn’t know why the answer was so important to him, but he needed to know.
“Don’t.” Della shook her head. The smile faded quickly from her eyes to be replaced by her frozen resolve, but the ice again melted as he rubbed his member against her.
Why do you refuse to answer me?
Brant decided to leave the question alone for the time being. “Have you a scar, m’lady?”
“Only one that I can think of.”
Brant moved himself to her opening. “Where?”
“My leg.” She arched into him.
“How?” With each question, he inched deeper and deeper into her depths.
“Stuart and I were racing horses. I tried to jump a low branch and fell.” Her eyes remained closed.
Brant frowned, but didn’t move from her. Her cousin was not someone he wished to discuss at the moment, but her words only reminded him how she kept referring to Stuart as her only family. Mayhap it wasn’t meant as a slight to him, but an affirmation of all she had lost. He thought of Edwyn’s tale of her mother. And again, mayhap it was meant as a slight against him. “Do you love Stuart?”
“Yea.” Her answer tore at him. “But only as a brother. We grew up together.”
His desires diminished some at her answers. She lightly moaned, blindly urging him forward with her hips.
“Do you ever think you will come to love me?” The words were spoken before he had a chance to stop them. But, having said then, he could not take them back.
Della’s eyes shot open, her mouth tightened in a scowl. “Don’t ask those things. Why can you not leave well enough alone?”
“Are you refusing to answer?” He kept his face blank, forgetting what they had been doing.
She chose her response carefully. “Nay, I am not refusing. But I don’t like the question.”
Still, Brant didn’t move, feeling as if his entire being descended into hell. Her hesitation could only mean one thing. She didn’t think she ever could.
“Methinks that,” she hesitated. “Methinks there might be some tender feeling in time. We are married and I believe we should make the best of it, for it is a long time we may be together.”
Brant nodded. At least she didn’t spout curses at his head and denounce their marriage as a sham. He knew he should respect her for her honesty, but he didn’t find himself liking it.
“Brant?” Della inquired, uncertain.
“Yea?” He realized he was still in her, though the pleasure had lessened from the lovemaking. Thrusting fully in her, he stopped the game. He didn’t want to hear any more of her honesty.
Why did he have to ask her about love?
Why did she answer him?
Even as Della thought it, she knew the reason. If she didn’t answer, he would know the truth. He would know she thought to be in love with him. So, instead, she’d given him a small version of the truth.
Della felt her body accept him, though she’d lost most of her passion. Her heart ached for that which she could not have. She watched his face as he moved inside of her. And, as they silently found release, neither of them acknowledged the barrier that had built up between them.
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