Page 43 of Water Dragon
Then her gaze hardened again.
“Please, stop,” she said. “You don’t want me to scream. You’re already on thin ice with half the highborn as it is after what you pulled with Sir Patrick.”
With that, she stepped around him and headed for the doors.
He watched her go, then met Iona’s gaze.
“So, she’s clearly involved,” Iona said.
“It would seem so,” he agreed.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“We trust my father,” he replied. “We trust Maize. We wait.”
“We wait?”
“For the next move,” Malcolm said. “There’s nothing else for it.”
“I don’t like it,” she muttered.
“I know,” he agreed. “But I don’t see us having any other choice. Do we?”
A trumpet sounded, declaring it was time for those competing in the tournament that evening to begin to prepare. As it had been so hot the previous day the jousting had been moved to sundown, the tournament continuing despite the drama between Malcolm and Sir Patrick. Once it was clear that Malcolm would survive, the festivities had only intensified around the citadel. Malcolm understood there was no point in trying to stop the tournament now that it was already underway and, in a sense, it still provided the perfect cover. It was easier to move unseen down crowded streets than down streets emptied of people.
“Will you help me get ready?” he asked.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, a question there, then it gave way for soft desire that made a tidal wave of expectant goosebumps travel up his arms and across his shoulders. It wasn’t why he had asked, but now that she was looking at him in that way, it made him all the more eager to get them to his tent. She must have seen it on him because her face split into a wide smile.
To think that yesterday this would have been unthinkable and now he would get to undress her again.
Things truly could change from one day to the next.
She asked that they make one detour and brought him to the servant’s quarters and her bedroom, where she assured him that they wouldn’t linger. He waited outside the door as she disappeared through it. She reappeared with the sword he had gifted her strapped to one hip. A sheathed warning to anyone who would challenge her.
“You should have worn that at the revel,” he remarked. “Sir Patrick wouldn’t have come near you.”
“I know,” she said simply, slipping her hand in his again. “From now on, it stays within my reach. Let’s go.”
***
He reclined back on a bale of hay, watching her slowly undress. He’d spread his cloak out, but the hay was still pricking against his skin. He didn’t care. He was still fully clothed, his fingers itching to tear his own shirt and breeches off, but she had very decidedly made him sit down and now he was afraid that if he moved, he would break whatever spell she was under.
The tent had been empty when they arrived. They were early and the men who usually strapped him into his armor wouldn’t come to aid him for another hour. He should be bathing, he should be eating something, but all he wanted was her.
With a small smile, she had let the sword drop to the grass at her feet. Then she’d stepped out of her shoes, slipped off her undergarments, and now she was focused on the laces at the front of her dress.
His cock twitched as he remembered the last time that she had performed that very movement and all the lovely things it had led to. He felt himself hardening against the fabric of his breeches, and he reached for himself to idly slide his fingers along the outline of his erection. He didn’t feel abashed, didn’t feel strange that she could see him. Instead, he wanted her to. He wanted her to see how she affected him.
Her eyes lingered on his hand, her tongue licking her lips.
He made some sort of noise…a sigh, a grunt.
She slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground, leaving her naked before him. It was his turn to lick his lips, his mouth almost watering at the sight of her supple curves. Her breasts were heaving slowly, as though she was trying to catch her breath, same as him.
He let his gaze travel down her stomach to the triangle of auburn hair between her legs.
Such wonder lay within it. Such total pleasure. He wanted to bury his face in it, pull in her scent through his nostrils, have it envelop him.
