Page 49 of The Sword and the Damsel

Chapter Eighteen

Last night, shesaid he made her body sing. Today, he wanted to make her feel like an entire heavenly choir. He would set aside his own body’s needs for as long as he could stand and devote himself to giving her the introduction to lovemaking she deserved. It’s what he should have done last night. His behavior was unforgivable, and yet, by some miracle, she was still here today, wanting him. He wouldn’t take his good fortune for granted.

Getting up, he stoked the fire. He wanted to make sure the room was warm enough for her comfort. The room had been unoccupied for a long time, and the November chill had permeated the stone walls. It would take time to heat up sufficiently, but he wouldn’t rush this, not today.

He poured some water into a basin and set it by the fire to warm. Alais gave him a puzzled look. “Trust me. I have a plan.”

He took off his cotte and hung it over a chair, leaving him in his linen shirt and breeches. The air was noticeably warmer already. He went over to the water and tested the temperature. In another few minutes, it would be perfect. Remembering something, he searched in the pocket of his cotte, pulling out the two small glass bottles of scented oil Alais had chosen. Opening the lid of each to find the one he was looking for, he dripped several drops in the warming water, and the room was filled withthe scent of sandalwood. He tested the water again. It was just right.

He brought the basin of warm water over by the bed and went to grab a piece of plain linen and a small lump of soap. He invited her to sit up, offering her a hand. “I want to wash your feet.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

There were any number of ways to help her relax and give him the chance to slow the pace of their passion and explore. He didn’t want this to be only about immediate satisfaction. He wanted to learn her and give her a chance to learn him. It was important to him to show her how much more the joining of their bodies could be than a mere satisfaction of urges, how many pleasures there were besides the strictly carnal.

After a day of travel and activity, he thought she would be footsore and would appreciate the indulgence. Besides, he knew he was really good at massages. He considered it something of a specialty. He gently placed her feet in the basin of warm, scented water. Then he ran his hands up her calves to her knees, pushing up her skirt. A shiver ran through her at his touch.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” she said, giving him a languid look.

He dipped the cloth in the water and tenderly bathed one calf and ankle, then lifted her foot from the water to bathe it. Her foot was slender and flexible, ending in shapely, delicate toes. She was slightly ticklish, he noted, something he would need to be careful of as he worked. He caressed her foot with the warm, wet cloth, then soaped his hands and began to massage, his touch slippery with lather.

Starting with her toes and working his way down to her heel, he made circles with his thumbs to loosen any tension. He explored each contour, listening carefully to changes in herbreathing to learn where she was most sensitive and what gave her the most pleasure. When he’d explored every inch, loosened every muscle, and made her moan twice, he rested her calf on his shoulder and repeated his treatment on her other foot.

Every so often, he kissed her calf or nibbled on her inner thigh. The sounds she made when he did that made him want to abandon his careful plan and take her right then, but he held back, focusing on the details of her body’s reactions. She was so responsive to his touch. He’d never been with a woman so sensitive to his every caress. With Alais, he felt almost as much a novice as she. There was so much he had to learn about her, so many ways in which she was unlike anyone he’d ever known.

When he finished her second foot and placed it over his other shoulder, he leaned in, enjoying the deeply arousing view of Alais with her legs spread around him and skirts pushed up nearly to her hips, open to him in every way. She was completely his, improbable though that still felt to his doubting mind. He let out a low, appreciative “Mm” at the sight of her. He intended to continue his massage, but instead, he found himself nuzzling and kissing his way up the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Her breathing grew more ragged by the moment.

“Victor, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste your peach,” he said with a mischievous smile that she couldn’t see.

“What?” she squealed.

Instead of answering, he took a taste. She jerked beneath him, grasping his hair, and letting out a yelp. He had fantasized about this so many times. It was hard to believe this was truly happening. He buried himself in her tender folds and feasted with abandon, struggling to regain control and focus. By God, she was delicious.

He needed to keep his head to do this right, but her response was so gloriously wild. She was straining and writhing, as if notsure whether she wanted to escape his torture or invite more. He slowed his tender onslaught and took a deep breath, focusing all his attention on her and away from the increasing urgency of his own body. It didn’t matter that he was painfully aroused. Nothing mattered but her.

Bringing himself back under control, at least for the moment, he experimented with all the care and attention of an alchemist, seeking the right combination of sensations to produce the reaction he sought. He tested and teased, making mental notes of how each variation changed her breathing, the sounds she made, the way her body writhed around him. With each experiment, he refined his technique until he found the optimal combination and rhythm to drive her to the brink of insanity and over it, as he held on to her bucking hips, preventing her escape.

She went rigid beneath him, moaning his name, and gave a violent shudder. He nearly came himself watching her, but somehow he held back, determined to go slowly and do this right.

“How do you feel?” he asked, caressing her thighs, and tickling her calves.

All she could manage in response was, “Unh.”

“Oh good,” he said with a smug grin. “We started at your toes, and we made it up to here.” He wriggled a teasing finger to tickle her between the legs, causing her whole body to lurch. “Shall I continue working my way up?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, still apparently unable to form words.

“As you wish. Of course, that means we’ll have to get this pesky dress out of the way.”

Her skirts were already pooled around her waist, and the ties of her bodice were already loose. It was a simple matter to pull her to sitting and whisk her dress away over her head. She wasfully revealed in the waning sunlight, so lovely it made his heart ache.

“You too,” she mumbled, stretching out seductively on the bed.

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