Page 123 of Bride of Fire
Her delicate touch sent a shiver of longing through him. But he refused to be diverted from his purpose. He captured that hand as well and clasped both between his, brushing her knuckles with his lips.
“And I only want to think o’ ye, Alicia,” he said. “But I can’t stop dwellin’ on what he did to ye. If I can only have his name, ’twill purge him from my mind.”
A peevish glower flashed across her brow, so quickly he might have imagined it, before she spoke. “I’ve already purged him from mine. All I’ve been thinking about for weeks,” she said, her eyes filming over with lust, “is returning to you, my beloved Morgan.”
He couldn’t deny that he was moved by her desire. He’d never seen such warmth in her gaze. And only now did he realize that was all he’d ever wanted from his wife. The knowledge that she wantedhim.
As he stared down at her in wonder, she lowered her gaze to his mouth and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
Only a will of iron kept him from surrendering to her seduction.
Still, his voice cracked as he repeated his demand. “His name.”
This time, unmistakable ire hardened her gaze. Her lips tightened into a thin line. She moderated her irritation, giving him an offended pout.
“If I tell you his name, will you let it go?” she pleaded. “Will you make love to me so I can forget him?”
“Aye.”
“Very well.” She pursed her lips and muttered, “Lionel. Lord Lionel.”
Oddly, hearing a name attached to what had happened to Alicia made her abuse seem far more real. No matter the circumstances of her abduction, he now knew that the bruises on her face, the scratches on her neck had been caused by a living, breathing brute by the name of… “Lionel what?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Morgan narrowed his eyes. He found that hard to believe. She’d been in his keep for three months. Had no one addressed the lord by his surname in all that time?
Alicia leaned in toward him again, resting her cheek against his chest and extricating her hands from his grip.
“Now can we make love?”
She let one hand drift up to caress his jaw. The other she placed brazenly upon his thigh, letting her thumb graze perilously close to the beast quickening in his trews.
He had the name now. At least half of it. He was sure he could find the culprit with that.
For now, he’d yield to her temptation.
After all, Alicia was his wife. He had every right to swive her. And now he had her invitation.
After weeks of guilt and longing, he was finally getting the absolution he needed. And for the first time, at her request and by the light of day, he was going to make love to his wife without regret.
Half an hour later, he sighed as he rolled off of her in shame.
She didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t been able to fulfill their tryst. With a soft, sleepy murmur, she turned away to doze.
But he was mortified. Never in his life had his body betrayed him so completely.
It wasn’t Alicia’s fault. She’d been open and willing. Letting him feast his eyes on her slender, pale body. Allowing him to cup the small swell of her breasts. Encouraging his kisses.
Finally, clasping him in her cool hand, she’d guided him to the crevice between her legs.
Their coupling had been brief and unsatisfying.
After a few dozen thrusts, his interest flagged. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all that flagged.
But what caused him to shrink wasn’t Alicia’s forwardness. Or knowing her abductor’s name. It wasn’t that he was out of practice. Or drunk. Or weary.
What caused him to wither was guilt over the intoxicating lass in the chamber next door.
