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The man and Ivo exchanged words, and although Briar did not listen it seemed to go on for some time. When they were once more alone, Briar began to use her sleeve to mop her face, but Ivo stopped her. Lifting her chin with his gloved hand, he dipped a soft handcloth into a bowl of scented water. She realized then that that was what he had been asking for. Water to wash away her tears.
The cloth was cool against her heated skin, and soothing beyond anything she had ever known. Briar kept her eyes closed, letting him minister to her, too weak and drained to do otherwise. She had sworn not to shed tears before him again, after that first night when she had howled in his arms, and now here she was again, ugly with weeping. And worse than that, she had exposed her terrible vulnerability to the man from whom she most wished to hide it.
“Demoiselle?”
Her eyes fluttered open. Something brushed her lips, a fragrant piece of pastry wrapped vegetables. Obediently, she opened her mouth and chewed. The flavors burst upon her, spreading through her body, a pleasure so simple and yet so wonderful. She had not even known she was hungry! Next he lifted the goblet of wine, and placed that against her lips. Briar sipped and swallowed with a sigh, allowing the slightly sour wine to warm its way down her throat. She tingled.
With great care, Ivo continued to feed her, giving her sips of wine between mouthfuls. And Briar let him. His gaze was tender and yet intent, his fingers gentle and yet sensual. It was a heady experience, as if every mouthful he gave her only increased her awareness of him and the world around them. As if she had come alive again, after two years of something very much like death.
She felt raw and new, and very, very confused.
Gradually, Briar grew aware that Ivo was not as untouched by the situation as he pretended. His servile pose was just that, for evidence to the contrary pressed full and hard against her hip.
He desired her.
With a bump of her heart, Briar knew that she desired him, too. Needed him with a feverish urgency. The knowledge frightened her, but excited her, too. This was Ivo de Vessey, her squire, her knight. Her man. And suddenly to desire him did not seem foolish or wrong, just very, very right.
When he placed the last piece of pastry within her mouth, Briar let her tongue dart against his finger. His breath hissed in, his body immediately tensing. Slowly, Briar looked up into his eyes. He searched her face, and she saw the moment when he read her own need. And yet he hesitated.
Waited.
Gently, Briar touched his lips with her fingers, lingering, tracing the texture and shape. He closed his eyes with a groan. And yet still he did not respond with his own fingers. Why did he not respond? Slowly the reason came to her…
He is awaiting my lead.
The knowledge thrilled her. No man had let her lead before. To be in charge of such a situation gave her a feeling of power. She paused, enjoying it, but her urgency was too great. Briar leaned closer, searching that stark, fierce face. With his eyes closed she could see him as he must have been before his hard life began to mold him into the warrior he now was. It was Ivo’s eyes that were so full of ancient pain.
Briar brushed fingertips lightly over his closed lids, then down over the harsh planes of his cheekbones, to the rough stubble on his jaw.
She felt lightheaded.
Her body tingled and ached. Suddenly it wasn’t enough just to touch. Briar wanted to taste him, too.
She stretched up and pressed her lips to his.
Without hesitation he kissed her back, tenderly, brushing his lips slowly back and forth against hers, content to play at innocence. Again waiting for her lead. It was Briar who opened her mouth. With a groan, Ivo followed, deepened his kiss, his tongue finding hers. His hands slid up into her hair, teasing out her braid, shaking the tresses so that they spilled down her back and around her shoulders.
Briar moved closer, her arms circling his neck, her mouth drinking from his. Her breasts ached, and she leaned harder against his broad chest, enjoying the friction between them. His hands caressed her back, moving down, closing briefly on her hips, and then curving to the shape of her bottom through the coarse stuff of her gown.
Briar wriggled around, helping him to lift her, turn her, until she straddled his thighs with hers. They were both in the place they wanted now, the bulge between his legs stroking the sweet, swollen ache between hers. Briar rose up on
her knees with a gasp, pressing closer, moving against him, seeking the pleasure she knew he could give.
“Let me inside you, demoiselle.” He groaned the words against her mouth. “Let me ease your sore heart.”
Briar did not know if he would ease her sore heart, but he would certainly ease something else. And why not? ’Twas only what they had done before. And she needed him now. Just as she had not comprehended how hungry she was for food and wine, before he fed her, neither had she imagined how much she hungered for Ivo.
Should she be doing this?
The questioning voice in her head was faint but audible. Somehow she pulled back. Both of them were breathing quickly, hovering on the brink. He looked dazed with need, but still he restrained himself, waiting, making it her decision whether they took that next step or not. Once again the knowledge that she was in charge soothed Briar’s doubts, and gave her the courage to follow her body’s urging.
Slowly, still gazing into his face, Briar moved her hips against him, blatantly. Ivo groaned, completely enraptured by the sensation, his head falling back to expose the long masculine line of his throat. Briar leaned forward to run her tongue over his salty skin, down to the hollow there, just as she had been longing to do.
Ivo drew another ragged breath. “Ah, lady, I am about to burst.”
She laughed softly and nipped his skin.
He adjusted his grip on her bottom, his fingers digging into her firm flesh, lifting her, changing the contact between them until it was even more urgent. This time it was Briar who moaned, her mouth pressed in a hot, open kiss to his throat. She reached down to fumble with the laces of his breeches, unable to wait any longer. Needing him inside her. Now.
