Chapter Seven #8
She wasn’t frightened until she felt herself respond to him.
When she began to kiss him back, timidly, and her soft hands found the back of his neck, he answered by fiercely winding his arms around her slim body and pulling her against him hungrily.
His rush of strength scared the wits out of her, and she whimpered.
He felt her stiffen and stopped his passionate assault. His eyes were wide with concern.
“What’s wrong, angel? Did I hurt you?” he asked in a strange, tight voice.
She shook her head, her eyes huge with confusion. “Nay, Gaston, you did not…we should not be doing this.”
“And why not?” he asked huskily.
She looked long at him. “Because you are married, my lord. And so am I. This is wrong.”
He loosened his grip but he did not let her go. Instead, one of his huge hands came up to stroke her face, her hair tenderly.
“I am married in name only,” he told her.
“The woman I married holds no place in my heart, Remi. It was an arranged marriage and I had no choice in the matter. Honestly, I have never truly felt married all of these thirteen years because I have tried my best to stay as far away from Mari-Elle as possible.”
She gazed back at him, feeling his sincerity. She wanted so desperately to believe him, to have complete trust in his word, but she had learned many hard lessons on trusting men and it was difficult. Her hand came up to his face again, curiously touching the strong line of his jaw.
“I simply do not know what to think anymore,” she whispered. “I am afraid.”
“Of what?” he demanded softly.
“Of you,” she breathed. “Of your touch, of your words. Guy taught me great distrust of the male species, Gaston. I know of no other way, yet when I listen to you speak and experience your actions, I am confused and afraid because I want to have faith in you. You are the only man I have ever known to be kind to me.”
His hand was still caressing her, the smoky gray orbs glittering dully in the faint firelight.
“Guy has all but ruined you, Remi. I hold nothing but contempt and hatred for him and I swear to you that all men are not like he. There are those of us who do not hit women and are true to their word. If it takes me the rest of my life, I will convince you of that fact.”
She sighed. “I want to believe you, truly. But I am still frightened.”
“There is nothing to be afraid of,” he whispered, brushing his lips to hers.
She believed him. For the moment, she truly believed him.
Her arms went around his great neck, responding to the sweet kisses.
She was so terribly inexperienced because Guy had rarely kissed her, yet her natural impulses took over and she matched Gaston’s passion.
When his tongue ran itself over her lips invitingly, she responded by opening her mouth to him.
She went stiff again as his tongue plunged into her delicious depths, but her reaction was one of desire rather than fear.
He licked and plundered and suckled her until she was gasping for breath, completely dazed with the newness of his touch.
Her mind was a black, curious void of passion, anticipating each new sensation with the glee of a new bride.
Never in her life had she been so fortunate as to have experienced this bit of heaven.
His great hand was moving along her body, skimming the curve of her hip and trailing up her torso with tremendous reverence.
She could feel his fingers dancing delicately across her stomach, moving for the ties of her robe.
He gently tugged at the knot until it loosened, and she startled as his hand snaked underneath the folds of the garment, his hot palm on the flat of her naked belly.
Uncertainty shot through her at the intimate touch, but his wonderful mouth moved to her neck and earlobes and she forgot about his hand for the moment. His steamy tongue licked the circle of her ear and she quivered violently. She vaguely remembered hearing a moan, not realizing it was her own.
“God, Remi, you are so sweet,” he breathed against her neck.
She was a quivering shell of desire, completely lacking her own will or the power to speak. Gaston and his marvelous touch had made her feel more wonderful in this moment than Guy had managed in nine years of marriage. Had she stopped to think of it, she would have been astonished.
His hand was on the move again, drifting up to the swell of her breast. Her first instinct was to bolt away from him, but when his fingers delicately traced the underside of her breast, she trembled again and held her breath in anticipation of the next step.
She did indeed consciously moan when his fingers pinched her nipple, rolling it into a hard pellet. Her breathing came fast and furious as his hand closed over her entire breast, massaging it expertly. Hands that were causing her to melt right into the mattress.
The robe was opened wide and he descended on her breast with a great sigh of pleasure. She cried out softly, her hands entwined in his thick black hair, completely consumed with the feelings he was causing within her. Surely there was nothing on this earth sweeter than Gaston and his sure touch.
“Mummy?” a soft voice floated into the dim room.
Gaston’s head came up, as did Remington’s. They looked at each other a moment before Gaston discreetly pulled the ends of her robe together and pushed himself off of her.
Remington sat up quickly; too quickly, but Dane did not notice. He also did not notice her flushed cheeks and guilty expression.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked him.
He moved into the room, eyeing Gaston. “I heard you cry. What’s the matter?”
Remington was thankful of two things at the moment; that her son was too young to realize what was going on, and that the room was too dark to see the scarlet color of her cheeks.
“Nothing, Dane,” she swallowed. “Go back to bed, now. ’Tis almost dawn.”
Dane was looking at Gaston. “What were you doing to my mother? You were squashing her.”
Gaston was remarkably composed. He stood from the bed, adjusting his breeches inconspicuously. “Where is your sword? A good knight never leaves his sword behind, Dane.”
Dane’s eyes widened. “I shall go get it right now.”
Gaston grabbed hold of the lad as he tried to dash off. “Nay, lad, do not worry about it now, but remember for future reference. As it is, you should do as you mother says and return to bed.”
He directed the boy toward the connecting door and on into the bedchamber.
She could hear him speaking steadily to her son, coaxing him back to bed.
It occurred to her that Guy had never once tucked his son into bed, never once used a soothing tone with him.
Over all of her raging emotions, her heart warmed as Gaston put her son to bed with his new sword.
He returned to her bedchamber after a moment, closing the adjoining door softly.
“He’s in bed but I doubt he shall go back to sleep,” he said with a faint grin. “He seems convinced that, somehow, I was intent on harming you.”
“’Tis all he has ever known, Gaston,” she said softly. “He is nearly as skittish as I am at times.”
His features hardened. “No longer.”
She gazed up at him remembering his mouth on her flesh. A warm, fluid sensation filled her until she thought she would slither to the floor. It was overwhelming, wonderful and confusing.
He met her eyes intensely, knowing what she was feeling because he was feeling it, too. He cleared his throat. “I have a few items that need tending, my lady. I will see you after sunrise.”
She nodded, too dazed to answer him. Her mind was swirling with emotions and feelings until she was dizzy with it all. Yet when she heard the latch unbolt, she snapped out of her trance.
“Rory asked me when you first arrived if I was to be your whore,” she mumbled. “I slapped her. But she was right, wasn’t she?”
“I think we just covered that particular area,” he said, although his tone was not unkind. “You shall not be my whore.”
“Then what?” she looked at him searchingly. “What will I be?”
He lowered his gaze. He couldn’t answer her, at least not at this moment. Silently, he quit the room.