Page 2 of A Husband for Esyllt
“Will he really?” The man’s lips twisted into a smile. “You might need my cooperation for that.”
She gave a movement of impatience. They were wasting precious time. “We are not going to actually do anything, of course.”
“How then is he going to think that we are, in your words, ‘coupling’?”
Without a word, Esyllt untied the laces of her gown and let it fall to the floor. In preparation for this moment, she had donned a garment that could be discarded without the help of a lady’s maid. Underneath, she wore nothing but a very revealing shift.
The man’s eyes widened in shock. Clearly, he had not expected such a bold move.
Before he could say anything or lose her nerve, she lifted her shift to come straddle his lap. He was so tall and strong that her feet didn’t touch the floor, something she had not anticipated and that did little to help her hold on to a semblance of composure. Unbalanced, she gripped his shoulders to steady herself. Under her palms, she felt rock hard muscles.
Dear Lord. This was a lot more unsettling, a lot more arousing than she had expected, a most unfortunate turn of events.Shewas supposed to be in control of what would happen, not him.
“What does it look like now?” she asked, her voice huskier than she would have liked. “Lord Sheridan will think me the most shameful wanton, a wild creature governed only by lust and possibly carrying his squire’s bastard child. After that, he will no doubt demand that?—”
“Let me stop you right here,” the man cut in. “Lord Sheridan, whatever you may think of him, is not a fool. I am tied to the chair and I am fully clothed. He will know that in these conditions, nothing could have happened between us.”
Damnation, he was right. At the moment, it looked like he was here against his will, not the impression she wanted to give. She needed to make it seem as if he were not her captive buther lover. The ropes may well have to go. But if she freed him... Then she would have no way of controlling him or ensuring his cooperation.
As if he’d read her mind, he gave a side smile. “I’m risking a lot just by being here, and we both know it. It is in my interest to remain tied up, so as to avoid Lord Sheridan’s wrath. But if you want him to believe we are coupling, you will have to untie me.” He paused then looked at her from under his long, dark lashes, as if in consideration. When something in his eyes flashed, she understood he had taken a decision. “Of course if you were really determined?—”
“I am.” This was not in question.
“Well, then, I suppose we do not have to pretend. If you were willing, somethingcouldhappen between us. For real. It could be compensation, shall we say, for the risk I’m taking.”
Esyllt inhaled sharply when he bucked upward to show her just how ready he was to aid her in her plans.
“Y-you...” she stammered, in both shock and confusion. Never had she felt such an uncompromising proof of masculine desire nudging at the place between her legs. Her late husband, God rest his soul, had never achieved such iron hardness. “You are hard!”
“What did you expect?” The corner of his lips curled. “A beautiful lady is sitting astride me, her bare flesh is pressing against my most sensitive part, and by her own admission, she wants to couple with me.” The green eyes seemed to catch fire, which in turn, sent molten lava down her veins.
“I never said I actually wanted to couple with you,” Esyllt croaked.
“No, you didn’t say it,” he conceded. “But you do.”
How did he know that what had only started as a pretense, as a means to an end, nothing more, had inflamed her whole body?
“Untie me, my lady. Then I could give you what you really want. For a moment in your arms, I’m ready to take any risk.” His voice was so low she had to lean in to hear what he was saying. As she did so, her breasts brushed against his chest. The pleasure shooting through her at the intimate contact had her bite her lip to stifle a moan. “The whole thing would be more believable if we were in a bed, don’t you think? Not many people couple on a chair in the middle of the room, you know.”
Yes, perhaps it would be more believable in a bed, but would it be better? Esyllt couldn’t think straight. All she knew was that she wanted to lie under this man, feel his hard heat over her, if just for a moment. She stood up on shaky legs and reached for a knife. Before she had time to wonder about the wisdom of her decision, she sliced the rope holding the squire captive.
Slowly, he brought his arms around and stretched, easing the pain in his muscles. When he stood in front of her, taller and stronger than she had imagined, Esyllt gulped. What had she done? She had freed a dangerous beast, that was what, one who would not be captured a second time.
Her heart started to beat loudly in her chest. What would he do now?
Had it all been a trick so she could free him? Would he now do as they’d agreed, or would he throw her over his shoulder, bring her to his master, and expose her plans to him? His loyalty was to Lord Sheridan, not her, and he did not need her to satisfy the desire she had so foolishly awoken. Anyone could do it. He could have her delivered to Lord Sheridan, then go in search of the first willing woman available and bed her instead. The inconvenience would be minimal, and the potential reward great.
“That’s better. Your men were none too gentle with me, no doubt because I’m English. Now, where were we?” he purred. “Ah, yes, the coupling.”
He swept her into his arms with breathtaking ease and placed her on the fur covers with more care than she had expected. Luck was with her, it seemed. He did not appear as if he would hand her over to his master. Perhaps he despised him and he was enjoying playing him for a fool. Perhaps he wanted her more than she had thought. Whatever the reason was, he seemed prepared to indulge her and go along with her plans.
“So you want Lord Sheridan to think you are a wanton. How far are you prepared to go?”
He knelt on the bed and started to tug at his clothes. Transfixed, Esyllt watched as he undressed, revealing his body bit by bit. The tight tunic was discarded, then the undershirt. Soon he was looming over her, bare-chested, and magnificent. The muscles on his stomach were rippling under a skin that looked smooth as silk. Esyllt could barely breathe.
Where had that man come from? Straight from her shameful fantasies, evidently. He exuded carnality, and raw masculine strength in a way no one she had ever met did.
After throwing his clothes to the floor, he came to lie over her, trapping her under his much larger body.
