AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Our line was elevated as an apology of sorts,” he continued. “The old king, and the king before him, would not involve the Crown in disputes, especially with humans, so it is to be supposed he thought the title would protect my line.” Which it had not. The unraveling of the tangles in his hair served to loosen his tongue. “I am not much fussed about it. There is a house, not a great one. There is land, but not enough to support a pride the way Lowell’s does his pack. I have ceremonial clothing fit for my station but not much else. The title is empty. And—ahhhhhhh.” The tips of her fingers exerted pressure on his scalp that sent a shudder through him all the way to his toes. “That feels rather, er, good.”
“Doesn’t it?” There was a smile in her voice as well as satisfaction. “I have discovered simply massaging the skull works to great effect when a client is suffering, for example, from a debilitating headache.” She dug her fingers in at the base of his skull, and the guttural noise he produced was nigh on vulgar. She did it again, and he moaned almost as though he were in the throes of— “It is much nicer than bloodletting or purging, practices I do not agree with in any case.” She moved to the top of his head and ran the pad of one thumb over the very top, over his crown, until he sighed and his shoulders dropped and his neck loosened and his head released into her hands.
***
Llewellyn’s hair was as abundant as promised. Tabitha stroked her fingers down from his scalp, over and over, through the thick strands. The texture wasn’t as coarse as it had looked when tangled, and the color was a stunning, unexpected mix of bright blond and rich mahogany. It was not quite down to his hips, but it was longer than Lowell’s, longer than her own, well past his shoulders, down the center of his back.
That long, lean back was all but pressed against her as his muscles released and his head fell heavy against her shoulder. She stroked and stroked; if she hadn’t known better, she would swear he was purring, deep within his chest, and almost asleep.
He tilted his head; his nose nudged her neck. He breathed in, then tensed, then roused.
His great hazel eyes blinked at her. Again, if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn they’d flashed amber for a heartbeat. It was a trick of the fire, or something to do with those infuriating lashes which fluttered at her as he shook off his languor.
How loath she was to let him go, but she did.
Well, mostly. He rose and turned to stand in front of her, and she did not stop stroking his hair, brushing it away from his face. It would be badly done of her to leave so much as a knot, wouldn’t it?
“Miss Barrington.” Growly, low, smooth was his voice. “My gratitude knows no bounds.”
“It was merely a homely solution anyone is able to mix together.” She hid her fingers in his hair lest he see them tremble.
“It was a gift and privilege to be tended so thoughtfully.” He took a deep breath and held her gaze. “There is much I have forgotten about how to conduct myself with decorum. I find that in your company, I recover more and more of my past self and would pay honor to that. I must ask if I may kiss your hand.”
He held out his, head bowed. Locks of lush, long hair brushed the sides of his face and fell over his shoulders; she left off rubbing the tonic through and wiped her palms on her skirt.
“I am not in the habit of accepting such tribute from a client.” Not that any ever expressed such appreciation. “But you may.” She held out her hand and found she needed to breathe deeply, the consequence of which was the inhalation of the familiar bergamot, the hair tonic, his maleness. “It is rough from the work I do, not the hand of a lady, or indeed the hand of a prince before it became a paw. Did I mention His Highness Changed his paw in front of me? To convince me to take on your case.”
“I fear you have put me in the prince’s debt.” He stroked her fingers, nuzzled them. “Rough they may be, but as a result of helping others to become well in themselves. This is no small task. It is one to be respected.”
Alwyn turned her hand over and set a kiss in the very center of her palm.
If she had a goddess of her own to invoke, she would do it now: the feeling of his lips on her skin set her to trembling. She had not gone unkissed, and the freedom she’d enjoyed on the Continent, gathering information for her comparative matrix, had involved kissing and more. But this simple touch turned her knees to water and her heart once more to a drum.
“You would allow a predator such as I was to be so close to you.” Llewellyn held her palm to his face. “You defended me against O’Mara. You stood between me and the Duke of Lowell. How is it you are not afraid of those more powerful than you?”
“I faced the worst fear I could conceive of and survived.” Those early days of Timothy’s heartbreak and the attendant drama would never be forgotten. “Nothing else will ever be as terrifying.”
“Your courage is quite stimulating.”
Had she known he was so tall? Had she realized how changeable those hazel eyes were? Her heartbeat quickened, and he responded by gathering her against his chest. Her fingers slid up all along his scalp, down those long, soft and silky strands, and rested on his shoulders.
“Do you enjoy kissing?”
She adored kissing. “It is a passable diversion.”
“Oh,cariad, you must have been kissed poorly.” He stroked one finger down her cheek. “May I?”
Oh, yes, please!“You may.”
And he kissed her.
Alwyn kissed her like he was posing a question, gently and yet with authority. He ran his mouth over hers, lightly, slowly, as one might gauge the temperature of a cup of tea. He brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue, once, twice, a teaspoon of sugar added into the heated mix. He gathered her closer, and she could feel his heart beating in his chest; the strength of his embrace wedded with the gentleness of his inquiry made her head spin. She tightened her hold on his shoulders, and one of his hands slid into the hair at the nape of her neck; he turned her head and slanted his mouth over hers.
Tabitha must indeed have been kissed very poorly, for it had never inflamed her like this. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nearly climbed him like they’d climbed that hill of rock the night of thecursio. She nipped at his mouth in turn, laved it, until he slipped his tongue fully between her lips, and oh, holy Palu, it was glorious, sending her up into the boughs even as she plumbed depths of arousal she’d never thought possible.
Llewellyn’s mouth was hot on hers, his strong hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers teasing her scalp, much as hers had done his. She pressed against him and ran her hands through his hair again, both palms cradling his skull; the shudder that ran through his body inspired one in her. His hands ran down her back, gripped her hips, and she rolled against him, restless, wanting, wanton.
Tabitha nipped his lower lip again, sucked on it until he moaned.Shehad done that, it was her kisses, her touch, that inspired that glorious, seductive, decadent sound, and she wanted more, more, and more—
