And the danger.
“I am sorry, but your nobility changes naught.” He stared at her, his confusion tearing her apart. By the grace of Mary, she’d made whatshould have been a beautiful bonding a disaster. She needed to put distance between them; it would be wise. Sensible. And she would, with the oncoming dawn, but hours remained until then, precious time she would savor. “Make love to me again, Colyne. Give me this one night with you.”
“How can I—”
“I know it is wrong,” she rushed out. “More than I have the right to ask.”
Blue eyes narrowed. “On the morrow I will make arrangements for us both to sail.”
“And for that I give you thanks.” Trembling at the thought of letting him go, she stood. “You must accept that once you depart, we cannot see each other again. Ever. Please, lay with me until dawn.” She struggled to swallow. “But if you choose otherwise, I understand.”
“If I spoke with your fa—”
“My father will not change his mind.”
Alesia might be convinced that he couldna sway her father to end her betrothal, but Colyne believed otherwise. “Who is you father?”
Silence.
So be it. Once he’d delivered the writ to King Philip, he would seek the noble out and speak with him in private. ’Twould nae be difficult to find an influential lord who had a beautiful daughter named Alesia who had journeyed to Scotland as a missionary. And a woman who had served her people as a healer. Whatever the price to release her from her betrothal, he would pay.
She believed her decisions took away his responsibilities toward her; he disagreed. Though unaware of her betrothal, he’d known of her chaste state.
Still, he’d allowed intimacy.
Aye, he could blame his actions on her impassioned request, of how she’d pressed against him and destroyed his will, but he refused to use excuses for a choice he’d made. With his every intimate touch, he’d known his decision, had accepted its consequences.
After experiencing her untutored passion, the guileless sensuality of her every move, he’d wanted more than what one night would give them.
“I need you, Colyne.” Desire-filled eyes searched his with desperation. “If it is within you to forgive me for what I now ask, make love to me.”
Her desperate plea cut through his musings. His body hardened as his mind relieved images of her beneath him. “Alesia—”
She unbound the sheet and stood naked before him. Illuminated within the golden candlelight, her breasts, full, round, and tempting, lured him. “Do you still want me?”
He silently groaned. Want her? Colyne’s gaze feasted on her tempting curves, at how the shimmering light slid over her as he wanted his hands to, and doubted he’d ever get his fill.
A sword’s wrath! He should walk away. He wasna a green lad unused to joining with a woman or the pleasures the act inspired. But as her scent of woman and lavender teased his senses, never had he wanted anyone as much as he wanted her. If he were to be damned, then so be it.
Pulse racing, he crossed to her, claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss. He would find a way to right this wrong.
Dust-streaked sunlight stole through the aged window to expose the room in a dim glow. For a selfish moment, Colyne held Alesia, who slept in his arms, and enjoyed the hazy peace. It didna matter that he lay within a downtrodden inn or that, somewhere in the city, Renard’s men searched for him and wanted him dead.
For this one instant, he was content.
Though caution had advised him nae to touch her again after their heated discussion, his body had burned at how throughout the night she’d reached for him over and again.
Colyne pressed a kiss upon her brow. In sleep, the lines of worry that had marred her face since they’d first met had smoothed. She was beautiful. ’Twas as if the fairies had delivered him a princess.
The princess.
King Philip’s daughter.
She was still out there. And he prayed his kinsmen had found her. Odds were, even if she had been rescued, Renard had long since sailed to France and would have begun planting seeds of doubt about the Scottish rebel’s treachery in the king’s ear. Until King Philip’s bastard daughter was returned or the sovereign read the writ, the French king wouldna learn the truth.
However much he wished to linger, responsibility dictated otherwise.Aware he tempted fate, Colyne nibbled his way across the soft curve of her lips, then slowly claimed her mouth in a deep kiss.
A frown draped her brow, and then thick, honey-blond lashes raised. Through half-closed lids groggy with sleep, a smile, warm and sated, curved her mouth. “Make love with me.”
