AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Conor’s face went hot. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Then he shouldn’t shout it as if he were barking orders from the quarterdeck.”
Conor shrugged. “Seaman’s good lungs.”
“Seaman’s filthy mind.”
He laughed. “True enough.”
Ellery sat on the bed, dressed in a confection of sheerest muslin, her hair still damp from a bath. A robe that did more to entice than disguise fell open, giving a perfect view of her round, shapely breasts and the long, graceful column of her throat. He saw himself sliding his tongue down that curve of dusky skin. Inhaling the scents in her hair, her flesh. He crossed the room with deliberate indolence. It gave him time. “It’s done.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous. Do you mean the wedding?”
“There was a moment when I thought you might run screaming in the other direction.”
She smoothed a hand down the turned back sheets, her eyes downcast, her thoughts veiled. “Was there?” She fumbled with the quilt edge. Ran her finger over the stitched embroidery. Avoiding his gaze.
“I’m glad you gave up your ridiculous schemes. Ruan told me he talked you out of them.” He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Pulled off his boots. “Just like a woman to meddle where she doesn’t belong.”
Her eyes swept up, her hand suddenly quiet. The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and tense. Then just as quickly, the moment passed. She leaned in. So near he watched a trail of water slide down her temple and over her cheek to pool at the corner of her lips, pouty and begging to be kissed.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispered in the most sex-me tone he’d ever heard as she reached for the waist of his breeches to pull him closer. “We’ve only hours,” she murmured. “Don’t waste them.” Her eyes went hot and dark.
What the hell was she up to? This was every trick of the courtesan that Ellery had ever learned on display tonight. And according to her, she’d learned from some of the best. Her fingers brushed over his groin.
At her first skimming touch, he’d gone hard as a rock, every cell in his body alive and standing at attention. But this new, hornier version of Ellery spelled danger. He’d be wise to heed the warnings. Except he couldn’t breathe much less think as she pulled his shirt tails out. Unbuttoned him like she was unwrapping a box of chocolate.
He cleared his throat, trying to gain time to assess this new and interesting situation. His discarded shirt fell to the floor. “Ruan didn’t really mean that last bit. It was merely a suggestion.” He backed away, but she followed, rolling up onto her knees on the bed. Slipping the robe from her shoulders, pulling the nightgown over her head in a swift, practiced move. And then she was naked, her skin blushed with firelight and invitation.
Suddenly her smile vanished. Her voice went chillingly soft. “Come on then, it’s what you want, isn’t it? A stupid slag who’ll ask no questions and never disagree.” She splayed a hand across his chest, traced the dark swirls of his mage marks, teasing him with the velvet of her touch. A cat with her claws sheathed—for the moment. “I can be that woman. I’ve known her kind intimately.”
Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? He should have known Ellery wouldn’t give way without a fight. Had she ever? He shook his head. “It won’t work. Playing cat and mouse with Asher and the reliquary is begging for worse trouble. You’ll end like your father. And I won’t see that happen.”
She snatched her hand away, sank back onto the bed, her face white as chalk except for two bright spots high on her cheeks. “You son of a bitch. Don’t you throw my father’s death at me. You killed him. Not Asher.”
Tonight wasn’t supposed to unravel this way. He shouldn’t have questioned his earlier good fortune. That would teach him. He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Yes. I did. But death at my hands was easy compared to what Asher would have done to him. What Asher would do to you if you tried your tricks on him.”
“If you’d only hear me out—”
He stood up. “No more.” Ellery threw herself off the bed, coming toe to toe with him, trembling, her jaw hard, her hands locked into fists.
“You arrogant…If it’s not your way…”
He tried to stay focused on her eyes. Ignore her closeness. The scent of her. The pulse skipping at the base of her throat. He forced his arms to remain at his sides. “It’s late. Should I just go?”
Without answering, she reared back. Came at him swinging, landing a punch flush on his exposed chest. “Idiot! I hate you. Hate you, do you hear me?” She aimed again, but this time he dodged. Grabbed her and pulled her close in a bear hug. “Let me go.” She thrashed in his arms. “Damn it, Conor. Let go.”
“I won’t be killed on my wedding night.” He amended that thought even as she elbowed him in the stomach. “At least not by my wife.”
She was out of control. The eruption of her rage spent with teeth, nails, elbows, knees—any part of her bo
dy she could free long enough to use as a weapon. He held tight, never allowing her to get too close. Doing only what it took to keep out of harm’s way without actually hurting her. Finally, he pushed her back onto the bed, falling on top of her, using his weight to hold her down. By now, he was fully and painfully aroused.
“Get off of me,” she fumed, her chest heaving. “I can’t breathe.”
“Are you finished?”
“Not even close.” She wrapped a leg around him, tried to leverage her freedom. Sought to dig her nails into his wrist. He shifted, holding her down. Bent his head to steal a kiss. To taste the delicious heat of her anger.
