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“How came you by this, my lord?” she whispered.
He shuddered, as if her touch were hurting him, but when she, remembering again Vorgen’s cruel taunts, would have withdrawn, he turned his face and gently nibbled at her fingers. “A fight with a brave man,” he murmured. “I deserved what he gave me, and much more.” He began to kiss her palm, his mouth hot and hungry.
Lily watched him, holding her breath. This was Radulf, her great enemy, the man she had been fleeing. This was Radulf, the terror of the north. And he was hers.
A great relief filled her, and with it an incredible tenderness for the man beside her. He was hers, and Lily had learned to fiercely protect what belonged to her, be it flesh and blood or sticks and mortar.
She lifted herself on her elbow, stretching to meet his lips with her own. Radulf’s tongue delved into her mouth. His hand still clasped hers, and now he drew it down to his groin. She stiffened, trying to pull back, but he laughed and held her tighter. His manhood was already hard again, and he seemed proud of the fact. “My lord,” she gasped, as he rolled her over onto her back, straddling her. He raised her hands above her head, pinning them there with a satisfied smile, so that she was powerless to stop his kisses even had she wanted to.
She didn’t.
“I feel besieged,” she whispered.
He laughed arrogantly. “The castles I besiege always surrender to me. They open their gates”—he slid his thighs between hers, opening them—“and surrender.” His manhood prodded her entrance. “Do you open to me, lady?” he teased huskily. “Do you surrender yourself into my care?”
And Lily, afire again, could only gasp her assent.
It was not until they had caught their breaths once more that Radulf moved to pull the covers over them both. Lily felt him tense. The warm tenderness turned chill. He turned his dark eyes on her, and although they were blank and unreadable, Lily sensed his growing anger. She was reminded with a sharp, prickling awareness that although Radulf was her lover, he was still Radulf.
“Lady, you have lied to me.” His voice was as quiet as an assassin.
Lily stared back at him, gray eyes huge, wondering what he had discovered, and how.
His soft voice went on. “You told me you were married and that your husband was dead.”
“I was married, and my husband is dead,” she managed, her throat dry.
Radulf held up his fingers, and by the light of the smoking candles Lily could see the dark smears of blood. “You were virgin,” he stated angrily.
Lily refused to look away. “’Tis true,” she managed through the lump in her throat. “I was wed, but he was…was unable. I was a wife in name only.”
Radulf continued to stare at her, as if trying to see beyond her words, to see inside her head. “Why did you not take another?” he demanded. “Why wait until now, until me?”
Lily did not answer him. After a moment, when she could bear his gaze no longer, she leaned forward to rest her cheek against his chest. His heart beat strongly beneath the wall of flesh a
nd muscle.
“I was waiting for you,” she whispered, and acknowledged as she spoke that the words were truth.
Radulf laughed in disbelief.
Lily, her hand trembling, touched his skin, exploring the rough dark hair on his chest, rubbing her fingers over it. He did not move, and she sensed his aloofness, his resistance. He thought she had lied to him, and now he distrusted her even more.
And yet he did not push her away, or move from the bed. Lily continued to caress him, her fingertips finding his nipple, and remembering what Radulf had done to her, she covered him with her mouth. Radulf took a ragged breath, his hands capturing her head and holding her still. “Lady, tell me again how you came to Grimswade church?”
Lily smiled against his chest. “I was seeking sanctuary,” she whispered, “and I have found it.”
He tilted her face so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “I sent my men to the wood you spoke of,” he told her harshly. “They searched and found naught of any battle between your soldiers and their attackers.”
Lily said nothing, gazing back into his eyes. In a nervous gesture, she licked her lips.
Radulf moaned deep in his throat. He wound his hands through the long strands of her hair, pressing his face to them, kissing the silken locks. “Ah, Lily, Lily,” he groaned. “Mignonne, you are foolish if you think your gift will soften me if you lie.”
His yielding emboldened Lily. She pressed her palms to his shoulders, urging him back. When he lay among the blankets and skins, she leaned over him. The tips of her breasts brushed across his chest, and her hair made a cave about their faces. “I will take that chance,” she told him softly. “I do not think you will hurt me, my lord.”
Radulf hesitated a moment, as if he were tempted to disillusion her, and then he was pulling her down to drink from her mouth, and all conversation was forgotten.
Chapter 5
