Читать книгу Unexpected Pleasures - Mary Wine - Страница 6

CHAPTER THREE

Yet she did shiver.

Her body began to pulse with excitement in a way she had never felt. It surged through her blood, rushing to her head and making her want to giggle like a girl. The air rushed past her cheeks, turning them cold, but she smiled, enjoying the contrast between her face and the rest of her body that was turning hot. In her belly, that excitement brewed, until it was bubbling with need that rose up to draw her nipples hard once more. It happened faster this time, because she seemed to recall the sensation from before and her flesh craved more pleasure from Synclair’s touch.

She’d known that she’d lose all control if she allowed herself to lean on him ...

He rode into the woods without a care for the fact that permission was needed to enter the king’s forest, or that the first storm of winter was falling around them. There was no hesitation in him, only hard strength that drew still more quivers from her body. She should have worried that they might freeze but she didn’t. The man sitting next to her was too warm and confident for her to truly worry.

“There.”

He leaned low, to make sure his words found her ear. She felt the warm brush of his breath against her ear and it sent a ripple of delight through her.

“The hunting house.”

She had heard rumors of such a place. The house itself was far more appealing to her than the palace with all its grandeur. This was a two-story house with wide stairs that led up to the front doors. Twin panels opened outward, beneath an arched doorframe set with sculpted leaves and grapes. It was refuted to be where Henry Tudor came to consort with his mistresses.

“This is the King’s house.”

“Yet mine for the time that I am at court.”

“Yours?” Her voice trailed off as she took a look at Synclair’s face. Satisfaction shimmered in his eyes now and it sent a shaft of need through her.

He stopped the stallion at the base of those stairs and a groom appeared to hold the reins. Synclair jumped from the saddle, his boots making only a scuff when they hit the ground.

“Indeed, Justina, mine because I have limited tolerance for the palace and the Earl of Hertford is kind enough to indulge me.”

“The palace is also full.”

Synclair reached up and clasped his hands around her waist. “The King is welcome to his guests. I prefer some privacy.”

He lifted her down, but didn’t release her immediately. His hands remained around her waist and she was overly aware of the place where he touched her. There was something in his eyes that made her breathless once again, only this time it was because she felt like she was poised on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to topple over the edge.

What was odd was the fact that she was looking forward to falling, anticipation drawing her belly tight with excitement. An urge to behave recklessly began to take control of her and she witnessed something similar in Synclair’s eyes. Surrounded by the darkness, there seemed no more perfect time to taste what was forbidden and unwise.

To taste what she desired above all other things ...

“The King used to come here for privacy, too. Privacy to meet with his mistresses.”

She wasn’t sure what made her say such a thing. It was a barbed comment, one designed to displease or gain a reaction. But she honestly wanted to provoke him and that was a cowardly thing.

“Exactly what I crave, Justina, privacy to end this chase you have begun.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “And why not?”

She took a slow step away from him, more of a nervous motion not truly designed to evade him. But there was part of her that did long for him to chase her and capture her. It was a dark desire but one that refused to be silenced now that they were so very alone. She felt as though she had been waiting forever for such a moment.

“Because I am happy to be here.” There was a deep satisfaction in saying the words. Justina felt it burning through the resentment and frustration that Biddeford so often forced her to shoulder.

But there was also something deeper, something that she had been ignoring too long. Synclair closed the space between them, his fingers landing gently on her lower back. Her breath caught and his eyes narrowed when he heard it.

The doors opened and a lantern was held high. The light didn’t reach to the bottom of the stairs but shone like a beacon above them. Synclair pushed her gently up the stairs.

He leaned down and she felt his breath on the side of her neck once more. “If you are happy to be here, meet me on the field, madam, or have your own actions paint you timid.”

Justina grabbed a handful of her skirts and lifted them so that she might climb the stairs.

Meet him on the field indeed. The man was every inch the knight and he enjoyed the battles that had earned him that rank.

The servant holding the lantern never looked directly at her. Justina passed the lantern and entered the house to discover that candles had been lit on a table in the front room and at the top of the inside staircase to illuminate the open doors of a bedchamber on the second floor. She froze in her steps, her attention fixed on that second floor and the fact that she knew she did not possess the will to deny her passion for Synclair.

“I will make you no promises.” Justina’s voice was low but steady.

She turned but Synclair was directly behind her. His hands cupped her waist once again, holding her in place with steely strength.

“Well, Justina, I will make you one promise, and that is that you will never again risk yourself by running away from me.”

His words were edged with harsh reprimand and a moment later he swept her off her feet without even a flinch. He cradled her against his chest, taking the stairs with quick motions of his powerful legs and carrying her into the upstairs bedchamber.

“Enough, Synclair, this is insanity.”

He put her down but only so that he might turn and close the doors. He shut them with a hard motion that betrayed just how much anger still ruled him. Yet he had controlled all that emotion and never even pinched her. She watched him, astonished at how well he hid his true feelings, admired his control because she was forced to do the same so often. A curious sense of kinship surfaced inside her.

“What is insanity is you riding across the borderland in a pair of boy’s britches without even a dagger to protect you.”

There was thick reprimand in his tone and she should have backed away from it but her temper rose to the challenge, refusing to be told where her place was when her son’s safety was at risk.

“That is not your concern. You didn’t have the right to hold me at Amber Hill. Besides, Jemma gifted the mare to me, and I may do what I please with my gifts.”

Synclair unbuckled his belt and dropped it on a nearby table. “I pledged my help to you, Justina, there was no reason to place yourself at such risk. My service to Lord Ryppon is finished, and I will keep my word now that I have my leave.”

“I never asked for your help.”

He growled, low and deep, one finger pointing at her. “You should have.”

He closed the distance between them, framing her face with his hands, but in spite of the raging passion flickering in his eyes, his touch was only firm. She shivered, her body begging her to yield because it wanted to feel that passion. A soft sound came from her lips but it was more needy than anything else and his eyes narrowed in response. His hands began to smooth over her cheeks, soft little motions that sent sweet enjoyment through her.

“You made me stalk you, Lady, and what I still do not understand is why, but I do not care. My service is finished, and I swear to you that capturing you is my only goal now.”

“You cannot change my guardian’s nature.”

“I will force him to release you or kill him for the way he abuses his position.”

His mouth covered hers, blocking out any further protests. She backed away from his kiss, seeking some distance to maintain her grasp on reality, but Synclair followed her, wrapping one arm around her to bind her body against his own. His lips never relented, demanding that she accept his kiss and open her mouth to allow it to deepen.

She shuddered and her jaw relaxed because she couldn’t ignore the sensation flowing from that kiss. It flooded her, drowning every protest inside her. Her hands stopped trying to push him away and began to seek out the skin she could scent beneath his clothing. Desperation made her impatient to discover what she craved, her fingers pushing the buttons of his doublet through their holds to open the front of the garment.

He held her against him, but that didn’t allow for her hands to continue working his doublet open. She leaned back and his mouth trailed across her jaw to her neck where he pressed hot kisses to the skin. Sensation rippled down her body in response to each press of his mouth. Deep tremors that traveled impossibly quick to her belly where need was burning white-hot. All of the times that she had avoided him rose up to torment her and push her hands faster. All of the denying that she had forced herself to accept suddenly turned on her, becoming fuel for the raging need.

“We should slow down ...” His voice was husky and hard, telling her that he was grasping at the last of his control to say what he thought she needed to hear.

“Don’t let me think.” She pushed at his open doublet, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. “I don’t want to think. I want to feel!”

“So do I.”

His voice was almost raw and his blue eyes shimmered with agreement, but there was also argument there. She watched it battling against his need and once again she felt that sense of kinship with him. They were so alike that she yearned to toss everything aside in favor of seeking out some solace in his embrace. She didn’t seem to possess even a shred of discipline to resist now that his hands were upon her.

“We accomplish little with conversation.”

His tone should have warned her away but instead it sent a shiver down her back. He shrugged his open doublet off and let it fall on the floor without a care. His eyes were lit with anticipation, but what captivated her was his lack of restraint. Always the knight had been in control. She stared at him, trying to absorb who he was behind that shield of chivalry.

He cupped her face once more, capturing her mouth with his. The kiss was full of everything she had witnessed flickering in his eyes. The demand was firm, his mouth pushing hers open so that his tongue might thrust deeply. A soft moan rose from her chest as the heat inside her body became too much. Her dress was far too heavy and tight. She twisted, trying to escape what felt like endless layers of fabric.

Synclair never lifted his mouth away from hers but his hands slid down to her waist, gripping her and lifting her once more. She gripped his shoulders, kissing him back with every bit of desperation that was bubbling inside her. She felt like a thief, taking what she needed because she simply could not resist what she craved any longer.

Justina pushed her hands into the open collar of his shirt, pushing it away from his skin so that her hands might slide across his warm flesh. Passion flooded her and she willingly let it drag her away, the current pleasing her in a wicked way. Every time that she had watched him and denied herself his company surfaced with the demand that she touch him and be touched in return. There was no building, only the white-hot blaze of need that had been boiling inside her for too long. She thrust her own tongue into his mouth, eager for deep contact between them. Synclair growled and turned with her still in his grasp. A moment later, he pressed her back against the wall, lifting her higher so that his cock was even with her sex. She lifted her thighs, releasing his shoulders to grab her skirts and yank them out of the way.

“I cannot wait, Justina.”

His voice was strained almost to the point of being incomprehensible. He pressed his upper body against her, pinning her to the wall while he ripped the opening of his pants apart.

“I don’t want you to.”

His eyes connected with hers for one slim moment, but it was long enough for her to view the wildness burning there. It was a part of him that he never allowed free, and that satisfied her in a way she had never thought possible.

She twisted her thighs around his hips, reaching for his shoulders to hold herself up.

“Do it, Synclair! Do it now.”

He didn’t need any further urging. She felt the hard touch of his cock against her slit, the thick staff seeking the opening to her body, sliding easily through the fluid that coated her folds. Her hips tilted toward him and she felt his length touch the mouth of her sheath, sinking in several inches.

She gasped. Her passage was tight and resisting, promising pain when he plunged into her completely. But Synclair held himself steady, sparing her that pain. A muscle on the side of his jaw quivered and she could see his teeth clenching while he stopped, watching her face. Through the blaze of need, she could see him judging her response.

“Thrust deep.” Her voice was husky and rich with need. She didn’t want to stop, feared that her mind might snap if she didn’t gain what she hungered for.

“You’re tight.” His eyes flickered. “We need to slow down.”

“No! I am not a maiden.” She cupped the back of his neck, pulling his head down to hers so that she might kiss him. Her passage burned, desperate to feel more of his flesh inside it. She licked his lower lip before thrusting her tongue up into his mouth to slide along his own, teasing it with what both their bodies desired.

His body shuddered, need consuming him. His hands tightened around her hips and his member withdrew before thrusting forward to penetrate her deeper. Pleasure speared through her with the hard flesh and her head fell back, a moan escaping from her lips. Rapture held her in its grip, refusing to be denied or contained inside her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her clitoris throbbed.

Synclair growled again, his body moving in short thrusts that drove his cock deeply into her. Satisfaction rippled through her, her passage filling with enjoyment as he impaled her completely.

“Too fast. Yet I cannot stop.”

His voice was strained and his words came through clenched teeth, but there was no stopping the need for either of them. He drove his cock into her over and over, his thrusts hard and deep. Justina kept pace with him, working her hips to capture each thrust, groaning when she felt his sac against her bottom. The wall against her back kept her steady for the rapidly increasing pace of his thrusts. Pleasure speared through her with each stroke of hard flesh against her clitoris. There was no controlling it, no tempering how it sent soft cries across her lips. She strained against her lover, equally caught up in the frantic need. Her pleasure crested, rapture bursting through her in a wave as hard as the cock thrusting into her. She cried out, the sound of her own voice strange while her body shivered in the grip of sensation that was so pleasurable she sobbed with it.

Synclair snarled with his. The sound was deep and harsh but satisfying because there was no polish to it, only the raw tone of immense pleasure. He thrust against her hard, his cock feeling bigger, more swollen in those last few moments before she felt his seed erupting inside her. The hands gripping her hips flexed, tightening to pin her in place while his cock emptied its hot load inside her. His chest rose and fell rapidly, harshly, but her own mimicked it.

He cursed softly, still pinning her against the wall with his body. She felt his shoulders quivering and doubted that her own legs would be able to support her. But her knees ached from the tight hold she had used to keep him between her thighs, the muscles complaining now that satisfaction had been gained. Sweat coated her face and her heart beat with hard motions beneath her breasts.

Synclair growled and moved back, allowing her legs to lower.

“I can offer no excuse, Justina.”

“I didn’t ask you for any.” Just as she’d suspected, her legs wobbled when she tried to take her own weight. A hard arm snaked around her waist to bind her against his body. He turned and put his back against the wall while still panting softly. She could feel his heart beating hard against his chest because she was pressed against him.

“You shouldn’t have to accept excuses for my behavior. I never intended to treat you roughly.”

There was tenderness in his voice, and it sent her seeking enough poise to hide from before she forgot everything except what she craved. There were too many feelings for him inside her, and she dare not allow them to bask in the moment, else they would grow and threaten her entire composure. More than one widow had run away with her lover and turned her back on her guardian, but both had lost everything when they did so.

“I am not a maiden so discard your concern.”

“That has no bearing upon how you should be treated.”

He refused to allow her to push away from him. Instead he cupped her chin and raised her face to meet his.

“But you were tight, very tight, and I know that I caused you pain by failing to control my lust.”

Justina pushed a hand against his chest. “I did not ask you to show control.”

She gained no distance from him, his arm remaining firm and inescapable yet not hurting her. Disapproval shone in his eyes now but it was directed at himself.

“You should not have to ask me for such. It is my duty to control my strength since it is greater.”

“Stop it, Synclair.” She didn’t know how to accept the tenderness in his words as genuine. Perhaps it was safer not to accept it, since such kindness so often dissipated the moment a man was in the mood to bend a woman to his will.

His lips rose, curving into a satisfied smile. She pushed against his body again, using more strength.

“And do not become smug because I called you by name.”

He released her, and because of how strongly she had been straining against his arm, she stumbled back a pace. He remained against the wall, leaning on it while watching her with piercing eyes.

“I am not allowed to be pleased by the fact that you mutter my name, Lady?” He clicked his tongue at her in reprimand. “Now that is most unkind of you, Justina. It is something I have longed to hear on your lips. The sound is as sweet as I hoped it might be.”

He reached up and dug his fingers into his shirt. With a swift pull, he drew the garment over his head and off completely. It fluttered to the floor. He straightened up and she stepped back because she had somehow become accustomed to him being so close, forgetting just how large he truly was—the top of her head was even with his shoulders. He walked across the chamber to sit down in a chair that was waiting. He pulled one boot off in a quick motion before she was able to force her mind to function once more.

“What are you doing?”

His smile turned arrogant. “Disrobing. Something I should have done before kissing you.” The second boot came free and landed next to its twin. “A quick tumble was not why I brought you here.”

“Wasn’t it?” She was being coarse but she couldn’t afford to think of him as a tender lover. “We both wanted an outlet for our anger.”

Synclair frowned and stood up. His pants were still open and they slid down his thighs with only a simple push from his hands. He stepped out of them and she turned away because his cock was still hard. It stood fully erect, the head of it ruby red in spite of the fact that she knew he had spilled his seed inside her.

She had felt it spurting up against the mouth of her womb. A tiny quiver went through her belly as she recalled that moment. It had been more satisfying than any other she had ever experienced during bed sport.

She must never allow Synclair to know that.

“I still want to kill de Canis.”

Synclair was directly behind her. She gasped, never hearing even a single scuff against the floor. But he closed his arms around her, pulling her back against his body in a motion that was fluid and impossible to escape.

“But not now.” He angled his head so that his words brushed over her ear. The skin on her neck felt the warmth of his breath, and sensation rippled across it. It frustrated her because it was so simple a touch, yet she was keenly aware of it. She strained away from him, struggling when he refused to release her. But his arms were solid bands of inescapable steel about her, keeping her arms pinned against her body, leaving her little to fight with except to squirm.

He leaned down and placed a kiss against her neck. His lips were hot and drew a soft breath from her.

“Does this mean you are not finished resisting me, Justina?” Another press of his lips landed on the sensitive skin of her throat. “Good.” He whispered that single word like a judgment, his voice hard and edged with promise. “I believe I am not finished bending you either.”

A shiver crossed her skin, rippling down her body in response. There was a promise in his voice, one that was unmistakable.

“You make no sense with such words.”

He chuckled, and it was not a pleasant sound, but one that sent anticipation through her. His arms relaxed, allowing her space, and she moved away from the disturbing contact with his body only to be caught on his arm in front of her while she felt his fingers pulling on the lace that held her dress closed.

“I make more sense than you do when you tell me to leave you.”

“I told you that because there can be no future in what you seek with me beyond tonight.”

Justina gained her freedom as his arms slacked from surprise. At last, it appeared that he was beginning to accept what their reality was. Her victory was short-lived however because she heard him pull the tie free that secured her dress. The bodice sagged and she had to clasp her arms over her chest to keep it in place. Synclair reached down and grasped both sides of the skirt in his large hands and drew the garment up and over her head while she tried to hold onto her dress.

“Then be very sure that I plan to make good use of the entire night, Justina.”

He pulled the loosened gown from her grasp with only a slight sound of tearing. With a hard look he threw the dress on the table behind him, remaining between it and her. Justina turned to face him completely, feeling exposed in her stays and chemise. Her shoes had fallen off somewhere near the wall, leaving her in stocking-clad feet. She suddenly worried that he might find her body unattractive. Her husband had told her that childbearing had left its mark on her, and it had been clear that he did not care for the sight of it.

“I must return to the palace.” Her voice was low, to conceal her apprehension.

Synclair shook his head, and she discovered it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Her gaze wanted to slide down his body and soak in all the perfection she knew he’d hidden beneath his clothing. She wanted to be selfish and stay with him. She wanted him to want her to remain even though he had already had her.

Such was a whimsical idea, one only found in sonnets and fables.

She had turned her head away but a soft stroke across her cheek drew her attention back to Synclair.