The Knight(4)

The memories that held him over the long months of their separation never did her justice. It was impossible to remember just how lovely she was in the flesh. He could never quite get the exact shade of golden blond of her hair, the vivid peacock-blue of her eyes, the flawlessness of her freshly-churned-cream skin, the brilliance of her smile, or the curvy—very curvy—lushness of her figure.

Hers was not the refined beauty of the noblewomen at court, but a wholesome goodness drawn from the verdant beauty of the countryside around them. His Viking dairymaid, he thought of her. His lusty Viking dairymaid, he amended. He’d known she would be responsive, but never could he have imagined such innate sensuality.

Anticipation coursed through his blood, the memories of what had happened last time hastening his steps. He hadn’t meant to let it go so far, but it had seemed inevitable from the first kiss they’d shared in the barn so long ago. Even at fifteen, he’d known she belonged to him.

And she knew it, too. She was already flying into his arms. “James!”

Just the sound of her husky voice was like ambrosia to his war-trodden soul. His arms slid around her, and he savored the simple pleasure of her soft, welcoming body melting into his.

He’d missed her, he realized. More than he’d ever dreamed possible. When had she become so important to him? So vital? Like the air he breathed and the food he ate, Joanna nourished his soul.

“You came,” she said, looking up at him with such an expression of joy on her face, it felt like his lungs had turned to steel.

Because her mouth was only inches from his, because he could practically taste its sweetness, and simply because it had been too damned long, he kissed her.

His mouth covered hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise, and then the low moan of pleasure that went straight to his bollocks with a hard tug.

So soft. So warm. So much sweeter than he’d remembered. Heat coursed through his blood and tired limbs.

He groaned, feeling her soften. Her mouth opened under his, and he had to taste her more deeply. His tongue delved into her mouth, stroking and consuming in long, slow pulls.

Oh God, it was incredible. Over and over, he drew her in.

The first tentative flicker of her response nearly brought him to his knees. Passion was new for her, but instinct and enthusiasm more than made up for lack of experience. Her body was made for this and seemed to know it.

He tightened his hold around her waist, bending her into him, increasing the pressure against his already rock-hard cock.

She felt so good. He couldn’t wait to be inside her again. To feel all the tight, warm flesh gripping him. To hear her cries of pleasure as he made her shatter.

His heart pounded. His blood surged. He felt his control slipping.

He pulled away with an oath. He couldn’t do this now. He didn’t have time. He shouldn’t even be here, but he had to see her. Robbie Boyd and Alex Seton were probably already looking for him. The two members of Bruce’s secret Highland Guard wouldn’t be happy he’d snuck away only hours before they were to put their plan into motion.

But gazing down into her hazy, passion-filled eyes, he almost reconsidered. Three months was a long time to abstain. He felt more like a monk at lent, than a young, virile, and lusty man of not yet five and twenty. But since the day she’d given herself to him, James had lost his appetite for other women—an appetite that had been rather voracious up to that point. He’d been trying to ease his hunger with trifles, only finding satisfaction with Joanna.

When his breath returned, he said, “Of course, I came. You know I can’t stay away from you.”

The pink bloom of her cheeks rose with delight, his words obviously pleasing her. “But it’s dangerous. The English are looking for you. If they see you—”

“They won’t see me,” he said flatly, and then smiled. “Not until I want them to.”

Though his voice brokered no argument, he knew he had not completely allayed her fears when her fist came up to her mouth. For as long as he could remember, she’d nibbled on her thumbnail when she was worried. But since she hated the “vile habit,” he took care not to point it out.

She gazed up at him, her big blue eyes wide with worry. “Are you planning something, James?”

He cocked a brow. She knew very well that he was. “As long as Clifford keeps filling my hall with Englishmen, I’ll keep emptying it.”

Joanna knew better than to dispute his claim of ownership of Douglas Castle. All the hatred he’d once borne the English king who’d killed his father had been transferred to the man Edward had given his father’s land to: Sir Robert Clifford, the English baron and trusted military commander of both the dead King Edward and his son, Edward II. Twice James had destroyed Clifford’s garrison, and twice Clifford had replenished it with more men. The last time Clifford had come to the castle himself to see to its fortification.