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Now it was time to do what was right.
Elina began to stir not long after sunrise. She shifted toward Warrick with a soft sigh—the first time she’d moved since the previous day.
Whereas he had barely closed his eyes. It seemed that now he’d laid eyes upon her face, he couldn’t look away. Almost the full night he’d spent watching her sleep, studying her every feature. But that had been in darkness and shadow. Now sunlight was filtering through the filmy bed curtains, and he was seeing her anew.
Her hair was still in its toweling wrap, but from the curling wisps that had escaped, he could see that it was a deep brown that glinted red where the light touched it. Her eyebrows were the same dark color, heavy slashes with the faintest arch. Long, thick lashes fanned across her upper cheeks, which were dotted with freckles. Her nose was pert, her lips soft—and she had a stubborn chin that he liked very well.
Altogether a pretty—if unremarkable—face.
His gaze returned to her eyebrows. Unremarkable, aside from those. In the prison, with her expression stiff under the paint, he’d hardly noted them. Yet after the pool, when her face was cleaned, her brows seemed to emphasize her every word—and sometimes they conveyed her thoughts so clearly that she needed no words at all.
Even now, while still half asleep, her brows had drawn in slightly—as if in puzzlement. Likely she had never before awakened with an aroused barbarian pressed full-length against her side.
Never again would she awaken without one.
Her silver eyes fluttered open. Those were remarkable, too. As was her mouth, when her slow smile transformed her lips into the most tempting lips Warrick had ever seen.
“You are here,” she breathed.
“Good morn to you.” And he would give a greeting that needed no translation. Gaze fixed on her lips, he lowered his head.
“Oh!” She slapped her palm over her mouth and turned her face away. Muffled behind her fingers, she said, “Chardryn’s draughts make my mouth sour.”
Warrick hardly cared. He wished to taste her again—to see if what he suspected of her illness was true.
But that was not the only reason he had to kiss her.
Angling his head, he feathered his lips over her ear and was rewarded when she gasped. She shivered as his mouth moved downward and he nipped the tendon at the side of her neck. Beneath the sheet, his palm slipped up over her ribs to cup her heaving breast through the silk of her nightdress.
Her breathing halted. Her body trembled.
Warrick stopped. “Elina?”
She turned her head, silver eyes meeting his. A blush stained her cheeks. Her soft bottom lip was pinched between her teeth.
Gently he swept his thumb over the swell of her breast. “It is all right that I touch you?”
No need to translate. She responded with an eager nod.
“Please,” she whispered, her flush deepening. “I know nothing of how to do this. But whatever you like, it is what I wish.”
Warrick would like to do everything with her. And they would have time enough.
He hooked his fingers into the neckline of her nightdress. Her gaze fell to his hand as he tugged the silk down over her small breast, revealing a dusky nipple that had already stiffened in anticipation of his touch.
Or his mouth.
She gasped again when he captured that tight bud between his lips, her body curling forward, her hands clutching at his head. Then she moaned softly, and settled back against the pillows, her eyes closed. Her breaths panted through her parted lips.
And the gods help him, the sweetness of her. Not upon his tongue, for that was just skin. Instead her sweetness was in his blood, with her every moan as he pinched and sucked, and with the way her hands caressed his head as if she needed to touch him in return, and how she stifled a cry and arched her breast toward his mouth when he lifted his head to see how rosy and swollen her nipple had become.
So beautiful. And so very sweet.
Hungrily he tugged down the other side of her nightdress—then glanced up to find her eyes awash in tears. His heart constricted.
Had he hurt her with his need?
“Elina,” he said thickly.
She shook her head, giving him a tremulous smile. “Ignore my tears. I am happy. It seems that everything I do is accompanied by pain. But not this. Not with you.”
“Never with me,” he vowed. “And I will see your pain end.”
Her hand slipped down to cup the side of his face. “You will have to tell me that again when we are with Serjeant Iarthil. I am certain I will like what you said.”
“Good morn, Queen Elina!” Light flooded the bed as the curtains were thrown back. Warrick reached for his axe—and stopped at a startled squawk. “Forgive me, Your Highness!”
