Chapter Fifteen
“I am already damned,” Madelaine said.
Christien jerked, tensing at Madelaine’s words. “Madelaine, please do not—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. It was all he could do not to flick out his tongue and taste her. The thought alone made his body harden with the overpowering need to make her his. Damn her husband and damn their wedding vows.
“I am not as na?ve as most think. I know you are nothing but kind and honest and you can show me what it can be like.”
He shook his head and enfolded her fingers in his hand. What she proposed… Making love to her… ’Twould be every dream he’d ever had, every prayer he’d ever uttered. But it would also be wrong.
“Would it not be cruel to know and never have again?” he asked, trying to make her see reason. Trying to stay reasonable.
“Or crueler yet to have never known?”
He smiled but it pained him to do so. He was simply a man and what she asked was something his body and soul yearned for, yet his mind was not so adamant. How cruel to both of them to make love and be torn apart forever. Was it not best to simply enjoy what they had?
“If we are discovered, we are dead,” she said softly.
“If we are discovered while…” She looked away, her face flushing.
Yet when she looked back at him boldness replaced the embarrassment in her eyes as well as determination and a certain amount of acceptance.
As if she believed her time here was limited no matter what she did.
“If we are discovered making love we are dead as well,” she finished.
Ah, but there were many ways to die and Christien was well aware of most of them. If caught, the count would make certain their deaths were not swift and painless and one thing Christien knew was he would never, ever give Flandres any reason to harm Madelaine because of something he had done.
And that, of course, raised the question of just what the hell he was doing in this bedchamber with her.
She smiled up at him with those soft amber eyes reflecting defeat and he knew why he was here. Because he was unable to leave.
He lost all sense, all reason. He pulled her close but this time his hold was gentle and she melted into him as he dipped his head and tenderly kissed her lips.
Mon Dieu, she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman.
What a shame they came from such divergent backgrounds. That what they had could never be.
She let out a soft mewl that resonated deep within his bones and set his body on fire with a need so fierce it scalded him. Her hands were caught between them and he backed up a fraction to uncurl her fingers and lay her palms above the uneven beat of his heart.
Her fingers wandered across his chest, burning a path in their wake and making him tremble. She explored his body. His was probably the first male body she had touched like this. Certainly she wouldn’t have touched her husband in such a way.
He’d been careful to keep his raging manhood from her, afraid to frighten her, but she arched her back, pressing her pelvis into it and he nearly came undone.
“My love,” he said between kisses, cupping her face in his hands as he nipped her lips, holding tight to his control.
She made a sound low in her throat.
“We must stop.” But he was unable to force his body to do what his mind demanded. He pressed closer, backing her against the wall. Suddenly she went still, terror in her wide eyes. He pulled back. “Madelaine, look at me.”
Her eyes focused but the terror remained.
“You are not in any danger while you are with me. Do you understand, ma chérie?”
She swallowed and he bit back a curse. Something happened to frighten her. She had been responsive until her back hit the wall. He stepped away. Quickly she slipped away from him to stand in the middle of the room.
“I apologize,” she whispered, looking at the floor.
“Never be sorry.”
“He…” She waved her hand to the wall and looked away.
Christien silently cursed. “Lucien or the count?”
“The count.”
The bastard. He cursed out loud and willed his erection to subside.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and Christien closed his eyes. His erection would never go away as long as she nibbled on her lip.
“I truly want to know,” she said softly.
“Know what?” Except he knew and his pitiful attempt to buy some time was just that—pitiful.
“I want to know what lovemaking is all about. I want to lie with you, even if it is just once. I want to learn you.”
He stepped back, but this time it was his body pinned against the wall. “This is not the best idea.”
“Please, Christien. What if we never see each other again? What if, God forbid, something were to happen to you on the battlefield?”
Unspoken between them was the thought, What if something happened to her?
She seemed resigned to the idea she wasn’t going to be of this world much longer and he refused to lie to himself anymore.
Lucien wasn’t going away. He would do one of two things, stalk her until he found her alone and unprotected, or tell her husband, whose vengeance would come down on both their heads.
Christien was betting on the former. Lucien wanted her for himself.
He lusted after her, wanted a taste of her beauty and would not tell her husband, for to do so meant she would be out of his reach.
“Why do you call me ‘my love’?”
Her question took him by surprise.
“Because you love me?” she asked, advancing on him.
He saw no reason to deny his love or fight it. “Yes.”
“And I love you.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what? Don’t love you? ’Tis too late, I’m afraid. I fell in love with you in the garden that night so many months ago. Do you remember?”
Remember? The moment was engraved upon his brain. He would never forget the ripeness of her breasts pressed against him or the lavender-and-roses scent of her skin. He would forever remember the taste of her lips upon his and the small hands that held him tight.
She slid her hands up his chest.
He grabbed them and pressed them together to halt her erotic explorations. “I thought we decided we wouldn’t do this.”
“You decided.”
“We are both damned if we continue.”
“And damned if we do not.”
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone behind him. He wanted nothing more than to throw her on the bed and show her what a man could do to pleasure a woman. He was up to the task. So what was holding him back?
The fact she was married? ’Twas true he stayed far from other men’s wives, but that wasn’t the reason.
Simon of Flandres didn’t deserve her, but neither did she deserve to roast in the fires of hell for making love to him.
He was unworthy of the sacrifice and maybe that’s where his hesitation came from. He was her inferior in so many ways.
She kissed his chin, sliding her body up his to reach it and he groaned, pouring all of his frustration into the sound before he stepped away. Her hands fell from his body. Her brows creased in confusion.
“I will not do this to you,” he said. “I will not compromise you.”
Her chin lifted and her eyes flashed in defiance. “We love each other, is that not enough?”
He shook his head. “If your husband were to find out—and make no doubt he will—he will kill you.”
“I am already doomed,” she said softly.
“Stop this,” he hissed, taking an angry step toward her. “I will not hear of this any longer. You will be safe. I am leaving a man behind. His sole purpose will be to guard you.”
Her hands twisted in her skirt. “What if the count discovers him?”
“He is my best man. He will not be discovered. Madelaine, think on this. You would be breaking your holy vows of matrimony and for what? In the end you would still be married to him and he would still have control over you. You wouldn’t be happy with yourself and mayhap even me.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked away. “You are right, of course. I wish it were different. I wish we would have met at a different time, under different circumstances.”
Yet everything would be the same. She was from a noble lineage, he nothing but a lowly knight. If things had been different, they probably would never have met at all.
He gathered her in his arms one last time. “Je t’aime, my Madelaine.”