Page 112

“Oh, English, dunna make me beg,” she pouted. “I want to go outside and live as normally as I can, I canna holed up here in my rooms while the world goes on about me. What will happen after I become countess and certain things are expected of me? I canna stay a prisoner forever.”

He ignored all of her statements except one. “I want to see you beg.”

She caught the flash of passion in his eyes and she was lost. A smile crept onto her lips and before she realized it, she was kissing him with intense desire. She had been cooped up for days, pacing and worrying. Her energy, much to his delight, was finally finding a release.

Jordan always slept in the nude, so the only matter of concern at the moment was removing William’s breeches and tunic. It was an agonizingly wonderful process he was to discover; with every stay that was released, she would kiss the exposed skin underneath. When she finally removed his tunic, she proceeded to drag her mouth all over his chest until he thought he might die from the sheer pleasure of it.

She was being aggressive and incredibly intuitive with him, he thought, but in truth she was following her natural instincts. She wanted to touch him, taste him, everywhere.

But he wanted the same of her. As soon as his breeches were off, he flipped her over on her back and furiously attached himself to her breast. She cried out softly, arching against him, pulling his head to her. His hot mouth was ecstasy, arousing her everywhere it touched until she was panting with shameless need. His kisses were forceful and the harder he pushed, the harder she wanted him to push.

Minutes blended into one another until there was no concept of time, only their needs being sated. He lay between her legs, his mouth dragging down her flat belly, licking every inch of her satin skin. When he descended on the mound of dark-blond curls, she nearly jumped through the ceiling. He was so forceful, so insistent, and so damned skilled that she began to see stars behind her closed lids. Nothing in her life had ever been so sweet or so gratifying.

She knew that if he kept going she would find her release within seconds. Yanking him by the hair, she pulled him up to her mouth and kissed him hungrily, tasting herself on him. She gradually became aware that his intensity had slowed a bit and opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

“What is it?” she whispered breathlessly.

Much to her disbelief, his eyes appeared moist.

“God, Jordan…,” he said huskily, his eyes devouring her. “When I thought I had lost you…I didn’t want to live without you. I never thought I would be touching you like this again. ’Tis the sweetest thing I know, to feel your skin beneath my hands, to hear your voice in my ear. When I think how close I came to never experiencing it again….”

She cut him off by attaching herself to his mouth once more, slowly but insistently to let him know that indeed she was alive and well. He groaned deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around her, thrusting full-bore into her hot, slippery flesh.

’Twas a night neither one would forget. Their passion peaked within mere seconds, sending them both into the spiraled oblivion of primal satisfaction. His touch said a thousand words to her, and she answered him with a symphony of lyrics.

They continued to make love for the rest of the night, all night, until the pink haze that signaled the dawn kissed the eastern sky.

She didn’t want him to leave but knew he must, and he was reluctant as well. ’Twas the day of the engagement party and he didn’t know when he would see her next.

“ ’Tis been a most wonderful night, English,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I am sorry to see it end.”

“As am I,” he kissed the top of her head. “But I will be here to escort you to the party tonight, have no fear.”

She propped herself up on an elbow. “The more time passes, the more I dunna want to go through with this wedding,” she said softly.

His smile faded and he reached out to wrap a tendril of satin hair around his finger. “There is nothing either one of us can do.”

She sat up in bed. He supported himself on one bent arm, watching her rigid, creamy back.

“What we do between us, here in the privacy of my chambers, means all to me. ’Tis the most wonderful expression of love and commitment we can express to one another,” she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I only hope that I dunna vomit when the earl touches me the same way ye do.”

He looked at her a long moment before bolting from the bed and grabbing his breeches. She watched him, his abrupt movements, and she felt his pain. She would go insane at the thought of him touching another woman.

“English?” she whispered.

He stood tall, fastening his breeches and she felt herself go warm and liquid inside at the sight of his magnificent, broad chest. It brought warm, erotic feelings flooding into her veins all over again. But his mood was changing.

“What is it that you want me to say, Jordan?” he asked bluntly.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she murmured, lowering her gaze. “Except…except that ye will love me no matter what happens. That yer feeling for me will not change simply because I am forced to bed with another man.”

He continued to look at her another moment before his shoulders slumped imperceptibly. With a heavy sigh, he sat on the bed beside her.

“Jordan,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “We both knew full well what we were doing the first night I bedded you. We knew that, eventually, the earl would become your legal husband and therefore entitled to all its privileges. If I told you that the knowledge that he will be touching you as I have doesn’t eat away at my soul, I would be lying. It pains me more than you can possibly know. But there is nothing we can do except go beyond that and focus on our devotion to one another.”

“But ye spoke of fleeing once,” she pressed. “Do ye remember? Ye said we would flee to Flanders or Normandy. Have ye changed yer mind, then?”

He sighed heavily. “Nay,” he muttered. “I spoke of it in haste; I was only thinking of myself, and of my wants. I was thinking of what should happen if the earl discovered our relationship and the lengths I would go to in order to protect you. But the truth is that to run away with you, simply to be selfish, would cause far more harm. Your father and Lord de Longley would be back at each other’s throats and men would die. All because of my selfish wants, too many men would die.”