Page 120 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
The bed shifted beneath her, as he withdrew his hand and stood, his back to her.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice strained, then he moved toward the door.
“Don’t leave me again!” she cried. “Or do I still disgust you? Have I no chance of salvation in your eyes?”
“Oh Eloise!” He turned to face her. “How can you think that? I disgust myself—I am the one who does not deserve salvation. It’s not for lack of want that I won’t touch you, but the fear of hurting you—of crushing you.”
“I care not, husband,” she said, “I-I want you to touch me again.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Aye, Harald, I am,” she said, her voice wavering. “I am sorely afraid. But I need you—I want you to touch me, like you once did.”
“Eloise,” he said, “I want you so badly, I’ll not be able to stop myself if I touch you. I cannot take you for fear it would be your undoing—for fear that I would unleash that which I cannot control—my desire. I have no wish to be like…him.”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Hush! Do not speak of him. I wish to forget—onlyyoucan make me forget.”
She took his hand and lifted it to her lips, kissing the callouses on his palm. “I wish to feel again how I felt, when you—when you took me.”
He lifted his free hand and caressed the back of her head, drawing her close until their lips almost met. His breath whispered against her cheek, sending a rush of warmth into her bones.
“How did you feel, Eloise—when I was inside you?”
Swallowing her shyness at so frank a question she searched his eyes, finding nothing but love and desire in their gentle warmth.
“’Twas as if I were flying,” she said, “soaring into the sky, before tumbling over a great waterfall.”
She leaned forward to kiss him. “I felt free, blessed, and cherished. I cannot deny that I’m afraid—sorely afraid. But the pleasure in sharing body with you…I long for that pleasure.”
“I fear I would hurt you,” he said.
“Husband,” she smiled. “Don’t you know, by now, that I’m stronger than I seem?”
His eyes crinkled into a smile. “That you are, my love—stronger than the stoutest warrior, though your strength is hidden.”
He caressed her lips with his tongue, gently at first until his pent-up desire became more insistent. He plunged his tongue in and devoured her—as a man dying of thirst drinks from the well. Soft, yet strong, his tongue circled around hers, and drew her into him. She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled him close.
Soft, low moans of desire rumbled in his throat, then he gave a hoarse cry of desire and pulled away from her, teeth clenched, body trembling. Suppressing her fear, yet trusting him, she lifted her chemise over her head, then discarded it on the floor. Then she unlaced his nightshirt. Gently, he pushed her back onto the bed. The dark desire in his eyes told her that there was no retreat.
Past memories rose within her and she covered her face with her hands, fighting the terror inside her mind.
“No, Eloise. You must look at me.”
Large fingers took her hands and pried them apart.
“I promised once to be gentle,” he said. “Tonight, I make that promise again.”
“Aye, you did,” she whispered. “And I said that I knew you would not bring me harm.”
“Yet what harm I brought you!” Pain stretched across his eyes and she reached up to him, running a fingertip across his forehead.
“I stand by what I said then, my love,” she said. “Tonight you’ve given me the greatest gift I could ever have hoped for—you have honored my child. I come to you willingly tonight, to give you my trust, my body, and my heart.”
She relaxing into the bedfur, and let her arms lay at her side, submitting herself to him.
“The greatest gift, indeed.” He lay beside her, and kissed her again.
Warm lips and whispered words of love followed a heated path down her neck, his beard silky against her skin. Feathered kisses danced along her body as his hands caressed her body in soft, wide circles.
