Page 91 of His Betrothed
When she lifted her hipsup and touched him, she didn’t know what she’d expected. He was certainly hard, but the skin itself was soft and hot. For a moment, she let herself explore down his shaft.
“This is lovely,” he said tightly, “but if I’m not inside you soon I shall explode, and that is not nearly as much fun.”
Smothering her laughter, she did her best to guide him between her legs. She wasn’t sure if she was inthe right position until he grabbed her hips and pulled down, sheathing himself inside her.
With a gasp, she fell forward and rested her hands on his shoulders.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
Roselyn looked down into his eyes, narrowed and dark with passion, and felt raw power held quiescent beneath her, at her mercy.She lifted her hips and sank back down. His eyes closed and he shuddered.
“Did I hurt you?”
“God, no,” he said hoarsely. “Please, please continue.”
She smiled with pleasure and satisfaction, and he gave her a wary look.
“Be gentle with your servant, my lady.”
She leaned down until their lips almost brushed. Up close, she watched his face again as she lifted and lowered her hips. He arched beneath her, and she felt him so deeply inside her that aching wonder shookher.
“Spencer,” she whispered, then pressed gentle kisses to the corner of his lips, to his cheek, even to his eyelid. He was so precious to her that tears stung her eyes at the beauty of her blossoming feelings for him.
For a moment dark thoughts intruded, as she wondered how long it could last, but she pushed them aside and took control of their lovemaking, riding him until he cried out hername and shuddered beneath her. Roselyn fell down into his embrace and rested atop him, feeling him beneath her, inside her.
Finally she slid off him and lay at his side. He turned in her embrace, pillowing his head against her shoulder as she slid her arms about him. She brushed his hair back from his face.His eyes were closed, his long, dark lashes resting on his cheeks.
She wanted to questionhim about their journey, about their relationship, but before she could work up the courage he gave a soft snore. She smiled, feeling warm and peaceful and strangely grateful, as she continued to stroke his hair.
“You were the first man to kiss me,” she whispered.
He didn’t react to her words except to snuggle his head against her and pull her more tightly to him. His face seemed open and vulnerablein sleep.
She felt braver now. “You were the first man to care for me.” Then softer: “My betrothed.”
She pulled the blankets up over them both and fell quickly to sleep.
Before dawn, Spencer awoke as if swimming up from deep water. At a level just below true consciousness, he remembered the words Roselyn had whispered as he’d fallen asleep.
She’d never been kissed.
What kind of monsterhad that stable groom been? When she had lost everything in her gamble for happiness, had he only punished her?
Spencer opened his eyes and looked down at where she cuddled at his side. He’d alreadyknown she’d never experienced pleasure in her husband’s bed. As he imagined how unpleasant sex must have been for her, he felt a strange ache in his chest. He wished he could have kept the pain fromher, that he could remove all those ugly memories.
He smoothed her hair back from her cheek, and just the sight of her sweet face made his heart come to pieces in worry for her. Had he brought her deeper into danger?
He realized then that he loved her.
The thought made him all the more terrified for her safety. Aye, he loved Roselyn, loved her bravery in choosing her own life and living withher decisions, no matter the outcome.
He cursed himself for not even bothering to get to know his betrothed, to see how they might have made the best of their parents’ command. He had not thought a woman could love him, and was still uncertain if Roselyn did.
He slid his hand down her warm stomach. He ached for her that she’d been a mother so briefly. Even now she could be carryinghischild.
What if they executed him for treason? Roselyn and their child would be banished, outcast, and it would all be his fault.
How could he tell her he loved her, when he might be dead soon? Better she hate him and think he used her, than to know he’d gone to his execution loving her.
