Page 50 of The Sword and the Damsel

“What was that?”

“I want to see you too,” she said more clearly. “I haven’t had a chance to take a proper look at you. We’ve always been…”

“Too busy?”

She nodded.

“Would you like to undress me?” he asked.

Whatever insecurities he had about his face, he had no such worries about his body. He knew he was lean and fit. His long limbs were muscular, shapely, and well-defined. He wasn’t excessively hairy, with a sparse sprinkling of blond curls on his chest. He had reason to believe he was more than adequately endowed. She would not find him wanting, he was sure.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a naked man before me?”

“Of course not.”

He smiled at that. “I must be quite a mystery.”

She bit her lower lip as she stood and stepped toward him. Tracing a finger along his jaw, drawing his mouth toward her, she took her pleasure, tasting him at length and without shame. His chest heaved with desire, but he remained passive, letting her lead the way.

Pulling his shirt over his head, she raked her nails gently down his front. He gasped as she touched his nipples. She noticed immediately and ran her thumbs over them again, watching his reaction closely. He moaned at the intensity, another part of him stiffening further in response to her teasing. She reached for him beneath his breeches, and all of him snapped to attention.

Unlacing and pushing down his breeches, she took him in her hand, not moving, but simply holding him. He thought aboutfrozen locales to keep himself from bursting at her touch. She took a long look at what she saw before her, running a finger up the side of his stiff, hot flesh. “It’s longer and thicker than I imagined. I didn’t get a proper look at it before. That really fits inside me?”

“Oh, dear God,” he murmured, trying to imagine the icy land of the Vikings to keep from bursting.

She took him firmly in hand and whispered in his ear, “You seem to know all about what to do to make me writhe. What does that to you?”

His permanent half-smile spread into a full smile. He murmured in a strained voice, “Why should I tell you when you can figure it out for yourself?”

“Hmm,” she mused, stroking her finger along his shaft. “You tasted my peach. I wonder what happens if I return the favor.” She knelt in front of him and boldly kissed his soft, satin tip, licking away the salty drop of liquid that had formed there.

“God’s bones, woman,” he gasped. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered having a plan, but everything was obliterated by the feeling of her mouth on his cock. Alais de Vere was…oh dear God. It was too much. “Stop,” he yelped, pulling her up. “I need to be inside you.”

He sat on the bed and pulled her down to straddle him. She knelt above him on the edge of the bed and lowered herself onto his hungry flesh. As she slid down onto him, they both cried out; the sensation was too much. They were both too far gone. They moved with grasping desperation, all subtlety lost in all-encompassing need. “Oh God, I can’t hold on.”

“Neither can I.” She heaved and throbbed around him, as pleasure overtook her and shook her.

His whole body pulsed, and all reason left him. He’d never felt anything like it, even the other times he’d been with her. Something was different this time. That something still held himafter his release, carrying him along on a wave entirely unrelated to what was happening to his body. Some barrier within him had given way, and an agonizing torrent of love nearly tore him apart.

He knew he was in love with her, had known it for some time, but he’d never allowed himself to feel it fully. He had always held it back. But now it all came pouring through him, as undeniable as a river.

It wasn’t time to speak. He couldn’t say it aloud yet, but he felt like it must be leaking out, visible to her in some way. There was no chance she returned his feelings. He didn’t want to burden her with his messy overpowering emotion. It was, frankly, terrifying to feel like this, but there was no more pushing it away.

He held her in his arms and breathed her in, trying to feel his way through the moment. She rested against him, eyes closed, breathing softly. Each tiny movement she made set off a new whirl of dizzying emotion.

He knew the instant her sadness returned. There was a slight catch in her breath, an almost imperceptible slump of her shoulders, and a tightening of her embrace. He caressed her hair. The relief and distraction he had offered her was temporary. It solved nothing. His love solved nothing. He couldn’t fix this for her, and it caused him profound pain.

But there had to be some way to help. He couldn’t just watch her suffer through this. She didn’t want him to take revenge on Robert. He would respect her wishes, but he couldn’t stand back and watch. She was worried about what his father would think. He could start there. His father would listen and be reasonable. He could fix this one thing for her and make sure she had at least one ally besides himself.

He kissed her forehead. “I need to go speak to my father. You should stay here and rest. We’ll spend the night. I’ll send amessenger to Winchelsea so that your family doesn’t worry. Is there anything I can get you? If you’re still hungry, I could have Marie send something up.”

She sighed and released him. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything. But don’t take too long. I’ll miss you.” She traced a finger down his back as he sat up to get dressed.

He rose and put on his clothes and took one last look at her, curled in his bed beneath the blankets. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Thank you, Jesus, for my wife.

He headed downstairs to find his father who was, unsurprisingly, still at the dinner table.

---