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‘But I thought…’
He leant forward and nipped her nose. ‘You thought wrong. In future, remember I’m a jealous husband.’
He took the bottom of the tunic and pulled it over her head, leaving her clad only in her short shift.
Her breasts became heavy and her nipples showed through the thin fabric. A primitive urge to be closer to him filled her. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat and grabbed on to his shoulders. The muscles rippled under her fingertips.
He cupped her breasts, gently rubbing and teasing them until her nipples ached. A delicious warmth radiated outwards. She held her body completely still, not daring to move in case he stopped.
He lowered his mouth to where the dusky rose showed faintly under the linen. His tongue lapped and a warm pulse went through her. Round and round. The material became damp, adding to the sensation as it slid over the now aching point.
Her legs became liquid and she clung to him, afraid he’d stop and afraid that he would continue. If he saw her back…
‘Please.’ The word was torn from her throat.
He lifted his head and smoothed the hair from her forehead. ‘I need this. But if you need me to stop, say now. We can wait for darkness and our bed.’
She licked her swollen lips. The thought of him leaving her was unbearable. Just this once she wanted to hold all her demons at bay. She wanted the fantasy to be real. ‘I need you. Keep going.’
He shrugged out of his tunic, revealing the gold of his chest before he laid it down and her discarded clothes on the pile of hay. He gently eased her back on to the makeshift bed.
The dusty scent of summer grass rose up around her, enveloping her in its sultry sweetness. He pushed her shift upwards and revealed her body. Her hands went automatically to hide her breasts, but he shook his head.
‘No, never.’ He moved them. ‘I want to see. Never hide from me, Sayrid. You have nothing to be ashamed of.’
She gave the briefest of nods and concentrated on keeping her arms down. Her body wasn’t womanly soft. She had worked far too long with a sword and shield for it to be anything but hard. And yet he made her feel as if it could be.
His gentle fingers brushed her skin, creating pools of fire. Her body twisted first one way and then the other.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Searching for bruises.’ He kissed the one under her eye. ‘I want to make them better.’
His mouth on her bare skin sent a fresh wave of heat coursing throughout her body and she forgot to think about how unwomanly she was. All she knew was that she craved this man’s touch and nothing else mattered. Her body bucked upwards, seeking his fingers.
‘Are they better?’ He gave a husky laugh and his fingers moved inexorably lower until they reached her apex.
Her body twisted as fresh waves of heat went through her. All she knew was that she needed more.
She tugged at the waistband of his trousers, undoing them and releasing him. He sprang free. She gave into temptation and touched. Steely hard, but silken like the finest velvet.
He moaned in the back of his throat. His hips surged forward.
A knee parted her thighs and with one movement he impaled himself, driving deep.
The sharp pain drew a cry from the depths of her being, but just as quickly it was replaced by a powerful heat. His hips began to move and she struggled to keep the right rhythm, but then instinct took over. She began to move her hips, seeking relief. With each movement he went deeper inside and the intensity increased.
All too quickly a greater shuddering overtook him and he gave a great cry and drove so deep inside her that she was certain they were melded into one.
She slowly stroked his back, feeling his muscles move. And she knew her stepmother and father had been completely wrong. She was capable of being a woman, at least once in her life.
‘I’m sorry.’ His breath teased her earlobe. ‘I didn’t intend for this…well…I did, but not here and not like this. You should have soft furs and a down pillow for your first time. Not itchy straw.’
She pushed against him. Instantly he rolled off and lay looking up at the roof, breathing heavily but not saying a word.
‘There is nothing to forgive.’ She forced her voice to sound rough and matter-of-fact. ‘We both know what happened here. I behaved little better than a kitchen maid. A roll in the hay.’
‘A roll in the hay can be delightful with the right person.’
The hollow space inside her grew larger. What had she expected? Undying love? Romantic declarations? Theirs was a match of convenience. Their joining had had to take place. She supposed she should be grateful that it had happened without everyone knowing.
‘We both knew it had to be sometime soon. Best to get it out of the way. I can think of worse places.’
