Page 54 of The Bodyguard Who Came in from the Cold
They were alone. His body forgot anger and remembered the smoky heat of desire, and her hands touching his bare skin. She was a dark, seductive shadow, illuminated with glimmers of lantern light. All he could think about was throwing a blanket over a pile of hay, pulling her down on top of him, and?—
“Gareth?” she said, coming close. “Did you hear me?”
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“Why did you never learn to dance?”
He shrugged. “You know of the curse. Not many wanted to touch me.”
“But surely the women—” She broke off, searching his face.
Margery wondered what woman could resist him. She would have given anything in her foolish youth to dance with him.
Well, she was a grown woman now, with a woman’s needs. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself? She wanted to touch him, to surround herself with the danger he represented. This was Gareth, who from boyhood to manhood had always protected her—but could he protect himself against this wildness that rose up inside her?
She reached for his hand and saw his narrowed eyes focus on where they touched. His hand was warm, callused from hard work, and so much larger than her own. She wanted to feel it against her skin.
“Let me teach you to dance,” she said, pulling him away from the wall to where the lanterns spilled their meager light. “The dances we do in the country are much simpler than those at court.”
Gareth said nothing as she took his shoulders to position him opposite her. It was as if a fire raged between them, drawing them ever nearer to something forbidden.
“We step toward one another, then back,” she said.
He stared at her body, following her movements. Awareness of his smoldering gaze burst to life within her.
“Step forward again,” she whispered, and this time she let her body brush against his.
His eyes closed and she saw him shudder as he stepped away.
“Again.”
Before the dance even brought them together, Gareth pulled her hard against him, turning around to press her to the wall. Her body heated with new, dangerous sensations as they stared at each other, poised on the threshold of something so explosive, it would change their relationship forever.
She could stop this now.
Instead, she put her hands on either side of his face. His skin burned her palms, his rough whiskers scraped her. She wanted the passion of his mouth covering hers. She moistened her lips, puckered them, waiting?—
With a groan, Gareth lifted her clear off the floor and ground his body into hers. The hot onslaught of his lips slanted over hers. She gasped as a lightning burst of desire moved through her, chasing all thoughts from her mind. His tongue licked along her lips, then between them. She surrendered her mouth gladly, sucking his tongue, tasting his mouth in return.
The feel of his body completed her, made all her problems and worries disappear with the passion she finally released. She gripped his hair, holding him close.
“Margery,” he whispered hoarsely, his mouth trailing across her jaw and down her neck.
“Gareth.” His name was a groan of desire, of need. She parted her legs, wanting to feel all of him. He caught her knees up around his waist and rubbed his erection against her. He held her hard against the wall, his face buried between her neck and shoulder.
Every movement of his body against hers made Margery shudder. She linked her legs around his hips, swept beyond the shock of his aggressive passion into a world where there was only their ragged breathing, their barely suppressed groans. She had known another man and thought there was nothing that could surprise her. But her stark need of Gareth made her feel primitive, alive, as if there were no constraints, no civilization.
His hands slid beneath her thighs, working slow erotic circles on her bare flesh with the tips of his fingers, ever closer to where they strained to be joined.
He kissed her again, and she groaned as his hands left her thighs and caressed her waist. He lifted his head and watched her. His thumbs suddenly brushed her nipples and she gave a shocked gasp, staring into his eyes, begging him without words to continue.
Margery’s sanity returned when a horse neighed in a nearby stall—and regret swept through her. Anyone could find them. Her longing for danger and excitement didn’t mean she wanted to be discovered. She brought her legs down and slid along his body to stand shakily on the ground. Yet still she clutched his arms and held him close.
“Gareth.” She breathed his name.
He leaned down to kiss her.
She turned her head away. “Not here, not now.” She felt his lips nibbling her ear, and she moaned.
