Chapter 13 #2
Still fuming from the whole debacle, Alexander steered his horse into the forest. To add to his annoyance, this part of the woods was almost impenetrable, forcing him to be on constant alert for low branches and thorny bushes.
He could have gone around, of course, but that would have meant a huge detour, a detour he didn’t want to make when he had already wasted so much time talking to two fools who thought that a man’s worth was measured by the size of the piece of flesh dangling between his legs.
As he was exiting the forest, he spotted a rider coming through the gate of Audley. His first instinct was to remain hidden amongst the trees. The last thing he wanted now was to get embroiled in yet another absurd conversation. He brought Starburst to a halt and sighed.
He was about to dismount when he saw that the visitor was a woman, a fact that his agitated mind had not registered at first, obvious though it was.
Not only that, but she had long blonde hair that gleamed in the sun, the color reminiscent of buttercup petals.
He was certain that she also had sparkling green eyes, the most tempting smile he had ever seen and a maddening scent.
Gone was the desire to hide and wait. He had to show himself, he had to go to her, now. Heart in his throat, he launched his mount into a gallop, heading straight to Gwenllian.
At the sound of Starburst’s hooves, she brought her horse to a halt and then turned it to the side, as if she were considering riding back to the safety of Audley.
Had he scared her? Very possibly. He slowed down, but by then he was close enough for her to have recognized him, and she was facing him once more, a dazed look on her face.
She attempted a smile as he came to a halt in front of her. “Alexander,” she breathed.
He jumped down from his horse. “Gwenllian.”
She dismounted in turn.
It all happened naturally, as if they had been moved by an invisible hand that knew better than they did what they needed.
One moment they were standing in front of each other, the next they were in each other’s arms. In one heartbeat, they had gone from polite acquaintances meeting by chance on the road to passionate lovers desperate to touch, smell and taste one another.
Which was little wonder. After two months without her, he was desperate to touch, smell and taste her, and he could tell she was equally as desperate for him.
Everything in him relaxed at the realization. He had dreaded seeing that she had forgotten him because she had found herself a Scottish lover during the second part of her adventure.
“You came,” Alexander told her between fiery kisses. “At last, you came back.”
Her first visit had to have been for him because, by coincidence, the morning before, he had gone over to Sheridan Manor and there had been no sign of the Scottish retinue then.
The urgency of Alexander’s kisses erased all Gwenllian’s disappointment at not finding him at Audley, all the doubts and questions she had been battling with these last few weeks, while the retinue traveled to England.
He had not forgotten her. He had even missed her, judging from the way he’d galloped to reach her as soon as he had seen her.
“Yes, I came back,” she said, overwhelmed by relief, gratitude and desire. Desire that could not be denied. Now that he had kissed her, her body was on fire, demanding release. “Make love to me, here, n—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Gwenllian found herself with her back against the smooth bark of a beech.
Her bodice was lowered, and one breast exposed.
Alexander’s mouth, hot and eager, latched on to her nipple.
The pulls he gave caused her core to spasm in response.
Was he going to make her come without even touching her there?
She buried her fingers into his hair, relishing the wildness of the moment.
“Here. Now,” he said, his mouth full of her. “Fuck, Gwenllian, you drive me mad. You taste so good.”
It had started naturally, it carried on with the same ease.
Alexander fumbled with his hose. Once he had freed his erection, he lifted her into his arms. Her back supported by the wide tree trunk, Gwenllian wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
There. Finally, he was where she needed him, poised at her entrance.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Are you wet for me?” he rasped with what she imagined was the last shred of his sanity.
“Any wetter and I’ll die. Take me, please.”
When he entered her, she could not repress a cry.
Fortunately, they were hidden from view of the castle by a clump of bushes and far enough away that no one might hear.
She didn’t think she could have stopped herself from crying out anyway.
Having him fill her after so long was too good. Nothing had ever felt so good.
So right.
And then Alexander started to move.
“I’m afraid I did not give you time to talk earlier.”
Alexander could not believe what had just happened.
He had pounced on Gwenllian like a ravenous beast, spreading her legs and plunging inside her while holding her against a tree before she could utter more than a few words.
That he had obsessed about her from the moment he had left Nead an Diabhail was no excuse.
That he had seemed to take his first real breath for weeks when he had seen her appear was neither here nor there.
That she had asked him to make love to her, even, was irrelevant. He should have had more control.
He had imagined many times what he would do when she finally came back, but acting so scandalously had not been one of the options. Or rather, it had been what he had fantasized doing, all the while knowing it would not be fair to her.
And yet he had been unable to stop himself.
The feel of her in his arms, the softness of her lips against his, the taste of her nipples on his tongue…
It had all been too much. Fortunately, she hadn’t seemed to mind.
And she had been wet and ready for him, as she’d promised, her release coming with devastating ease, as if she’d been poised on the edge for too long and rendered helpless by his caresses.
“No, you didn’t,” Gwenllian sighed, “but there was not much to say anyway.”
She sounded as dazed as he felt. Their lovemaking had been explosive, almost putting paid to his customary caution.
He’d been one thrust away from filling her with his seed, something he had always refused to do.
For a very real and frightening moment, he had feared he wouldn’t be able to leave her warmth in time, but by some miracle, he had managed it.
After withdrawing from her pulsating flesh, he had spent on the leaves at his feet, crumpled to the ground and settled her on his lap.
They sat for a long moment panting, recovering from a shattering release.
The connection between them was unbelievable.
Never had he bedded a woman who overwhelmed his senses thus.
Was it making him lose sight of what was right? Make him forget all decency?
There had to be something, because he was losing his mind.
This was Lord Sheridan’s daughter, a noble, well-bred lady.
Because of him, she was no longer a virgin.
That was bad enough. But he had just taken her up against a tree.
True, she had not protested, but he should not have allowed any of it to happen, because he knew he would never offer her what she deserved, an honorable arrangement.
He rested the back of his head against the tree and closed his eyes. He could not think right now, anyway, he just needed a moment with this woman in his arms.
After a while, they got back to their feet and restored order to their clothes.
“I’m thirsty,” Gwenllian said, looking embarrassed at her admission.
“So am I.” He laughed, because there was no wondering why that might be. “Come, we’ll go to Audley.”
In the bailey, they were greeted by Peter, who seemed relieved to see them together.
“I was sorry to have to tell her ladyship you were not here, my lord. But I see you met her on the road.”
“Yes.”
Did the man suspect that they had done a lot more than simply “meet?” He hoped not. The last time Gwenllian had been here, she’d only been a guest, they had not yet slept together, so he hoped no one would guess things had changed between them since then.
“You resolved the matter, then?” Peter asked innocently. “I wondered what had the poor villager in such a state.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Alexander muttered. “And now if you’ll excuse us, her ladyship is in need of a drink.”
“Of course, I’ll send Emelie to you straight away. Let me get your horses.”
Alexander led the way to the great hall, where moments later, refreshments were served. Once they had drunk their fill of spiced wine and eaten a few wafers, he took Gwenllian’s hand.
“I actually have something to show you. Come.”
Looking intrigued, Gwenllian followed him to the stables. Alexander smiled to himself. He had not imagined he would get to show her the surprise so soon, and he was looking forward to it. As soon as she saw the gray mare, she would have feared never to see again, she started to run.
“Gwlithyn!” she cried, wrapping her arms around the animal’s neck.
“I guess she really is the one? Master Simon was not certain, never having seen her.” And he, of course, had only caught a glimpse of the mare before the ruffians rode away. Still, her coat and allure were distinctive enough that he’d been confident they had the right horse.
“Yes, it is her. But how did you— Where was—? Is she all right?”
“Perfectly all right. We checked.”
Gwenllian could barely talk for relief and emotion. Something within Alexander melted. He rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to give gifts, and he was finding out just how pleasurable it was.
“But I don’t understand. Peter didn’t tell me anything when I came to hand Buttercup over.”