Page 43 of Kiss of Ice

She wasn’t being forced. She was responding.

He shook off the little voice in his head. He had no excuse. He had been trying to humiliate her, scare her. It made no difference that it had somehow turned into something else.

Something passionate, something feverish and exciting… he caught himself. Gods, he was aroused.

He considered sending for one of the many women he routinely bedded. The redhead, perhaps. But none of them looked like Ren, nor would they feel like her in his arms. He closed his eyes briefly, remembering how her curves had pressed against him, the weight of her breasts in his hands…

He found he was stroking himself through his trousers.

“Gods damn it to the seven hells!”

He was just frustrated, he told himself. He hadn’t taken a bed partner for the past few nights. So naturally when he’d kissed her, his body had reacted out of habit. His arousal meant nothing. Nothing.

And yet he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to claim her. To bury himself in her silken depths, to have her beautiful thighs clasped against his sides as he rocked inside her. To hear her cry his name as she writhed in ecstasy, to feel her tighten around his shaft as she climaxed. To plunge into her again and again until he groaned in release and…

Fuck.

He was powerless to stop his orgasm. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he shuddered into his own hand, still imagining he was pleasuring Ren.

And when it was over, he leaned against the wall of his bedchamber and wondered how the daughter of his sworn enemy had somehow managed to get under his skin.

Nineteen

Ren checked on Mistral. He was back in his stable, safe and sound. She leaned against his side and tried not to cry.

“I don’t understand him,” she murmured. “One minute he does something nice, like bringing you here, and the next he’s a monster. I thought I could get him to see me as a person but now I’m not so sure. Am I making a mistake by marrying him?” She buried her face in the horse’s neck. “If father didn’t want it so much, I’d leap on your back right now and get out of here.”

She wished she could talk to her mother. She’d have known what to do.

“Wedding jitters?”

The voice came from behind her and Ren whirled round, mortified in case she’d been overheard.

“Oh, hello Ruth. What are you doing here?”

The green-haired witch looked at her shrewdly.

“I came to find you for a dress fitting. But it can wait. Let’s take a walk, my dear.”

Reluctantly, Ren patted Mistral and made sure he had enough hay. Then she followed the wiccan. They strolled through the gardens, the late afternoon sun sending shards of golden light through the fruit trees.

Butterflies and bees were busying themselves collecting pollen, and birds happily called out their songs. Ren bent and smelled a flower, letting her shoulders relax.

“Are you having second thoughts about marrying the Emperor, my Lady?” Ruth’s question made her tense up again.

“Of course not,” she said. It was impertinent of a servant to ask something personal like that, but the wiccan seemed oblivious.

“It’s okay to be nervous. Not uncommon. I expect your mother would tell you the same if she were still here.”

“I doubt that. My mother would never have forced me into marriage.”

“Andareyou being forced?”

Ren reminded herself to be careful of what she said. She had given her consent, after all.

“No. I agreed to it. It’s just… it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“Arranged marriages are common among the nobility, are they not?” The wiccan looked at her curiously. “Didn’t your parents have an arranged match?”

---