Chapter 21 #2
Edward felt her plea as a bolt from a crossbow. Wordless, he came to her and gathered her to his heart. He closed his eyes for a moment to clear the blackness. The unspoken message of her trust, her softness. It held him spellbound. Alternate waves of pity and fury rode him.
The image of her ordeal in the forest undid him. “Hush now, my flower,” he crooned and kissed her temple, then his lips went lower and he kissed her mouth. All the while, he stroked the chestnut waterfall of her hair, and she sobbed out her regret.
It was then he felt the lump on her head, and his reluctant fingers tried to discover if the skin had been broken. His fingers came away with bloody streaks.
He had not thought he could become enraged all over again, but with each revelation, he found himself tested. He surprised himself. The borders of his experience seem to be shifting, and without his volition. Who or what had done that to him?
He made to get up for the cloth and water to clean the wound, but she whimpered and clung to him, and he could not let her go. Instead, he kissed her again and found her willing, eager for his touch.
Edward brushed his face across her forehead and whispered her name.
“Hush now,” he murmured as he rubbed his face against her temple, “Hush, my flower.”
And still he stood and rocked her gently, stroking her hair, her face tucked into the side of his neck. At last, her tears diminished, and she quieted.
Edward, glancing at the entry where he knew his squire hovered impatiently. He could tell by the sounds that although he wished for no intrusion, the word outside chafed to come in. Time pressed on.
They were already late, and the road called. Reluctant to let the moment go, Edward sighed deeply.
“We have a dilemma, Lily,” he said, “that you can solve.”
“Me?”
“Your wounds need cleaning, and we should try to get some of the grime off you so we can get you into clean clothing. Alas, I have sent your maids away, but I am unable to leave you alone.”
“Why? I am hardly in a fit state to bolt,” she told him.
“Have I not mentioned I am a careful man? I put nothing past you, mam’selle,” he teased in an attempt to lift the gloom away. “If you could put away propriety and missish things, I could help you. My men itch to get away. We must leave here.”
She looked at him, her heavy lashes wet still, her mouth flush with his kisses. “I know what you are asking.”
“Do you, Lily? I cannot think that you really do,” he said, his voice husky.
She turned away. “I will try not to be too prim if you will not forget chivalry.”
“I make no promise, but I will do nothing you do not invite me to do,” he told her, indicating she should sit on the bed again. At once, he set to his tasks with quick, efficient focus. Cleaning the wound on her head and the grime and bruises on her leg.
Discipline lent him endurance. His fingers moved with indifference, touching only where necessary. The torment was hell. He could see it in her own war against desire; she trembled where he touched.
In a shaky voice, she told him to turn away so she could rid herself of her dirty clothes and swiftly eased a clean shift over her head. The flimsy garment did little to hide her form, and Edward did not know if he could altogether ignore her allure.
He almost made it through the task. Almost, but then he made the mistake of seeing her there as she lay high against the pillows. All but naked in her shift, her loveliness in full view of his devouring glance.
“Art from faerie itself, my flower,” he told her softly.
His desire was echoed in her eyes, and she gazed at him with the selfsame need he felt inside. He saw it in the open invitation, in the sheen on her lips. She might not know what she asked for, but he did not mistake it.
“Do you tempt me, mistress?” He spoke low in his throat and ran two fingers down her cheek, down over her shoulder, and past her waist to linger a little between the whiteness of her thighs and her dark curls only just visible through the linen fabric.
He could see too the long, sylph-like length of her curves. Tipped with fairy nipples, her breasts were perfection, handfuls of velvet and silk. He spanned her waist with a single hand, and the sleek flare of her hips called to every male part of his body.
His heart began to hammer. Lust rode him hard.
And wonder, too, for he had never seen more shapely legs.
There lay beauty beyond compare in those colt-like legs.
They seemed to go on forever, and he could feel them high and tight around him.
His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and his shaft rose like a dragon in his chausses.
His gaze captured hers.
She looked back at him in silence, answering him with caresses of her own that traced dreamy fingers along his cheek, over his jaw, touching his lips with gossamer lightness.
“I do not want you to let me go,” she told him without subterfuge. “I need your shelter.”
He made an inarticulate sound and held her to him, kissing her with sweet violence, even as he fought for control. The urge to feel her against his skin beat on him like the sun in a desert. His breath rasped with the effort.
“There’s no time,” he told her, but he himself ignored it, and with a sweep of his hands, he lifted her shift away. She did not protest, and he gazed his fill as she watched him. Their eyes met, hers glazed with anticipation, his smoldering with passion.
“You are so beautiful, my lily flower, so very beautiful,” he told her and claimed her mouth again. Sweet and tender was her response, and he reveled in it, slanting his lips over her cherry red ones.
Their tongues mated. He could not taste her enough, nor could she, for she protested when his lips left hers, but he heeded her not and kissed a path to her flower-like nipples.
She made a small purring sound in her throat, and Edward felt the fire raging in his shaft, shooting down his legs like an inferno.
He repeatedly told himself he would stop in a minute, a few more pleasurable moments, only.
His shaft throbbed in answer to her melody. Fitting himself against the cradle of her thighs, he brought his ridged hardness into direct contact with her. It was as eloquent a claim as he could make that he had found the perfect housing for his desire.
Abruptly, brutally, the single note of a bugle call rang out, and he groaned. For a long moment, he lay his forehead against hers, his ragged breathing slowly steadying.
“I’m sorry, flower,” he said softly. “We have not the time, nor is this the place to finish this parley. It seems we are ill-choosers, you and me. I shall see to it that it doesn’t happen a third time.”
He regretted the sweep of chill air that immediately washed over her naked body, dousing the embers of her passion. She dragged herself reluctantly from the languid place he’d just taken her to. He saw cold reality hit her.
Her eyes snapped open in horror. She gasped and grabbed her discarded shift as flames of embarrassment flooded every part of her. Her ire rose on the blushing tide.
“You’re enjoying watching me make a fool of myself, aren’t you?” she accused him.
He sat on the edge of the bed and cupped her cheek before placing a quick kiss on her lips. “I enjoy everything about you, Lily. Your fumbles, your pleasure, your sparkle. If you want to be cross with me for winning our contest, you may do that, too.”
“Oh, so now that you have won and we go to Ravensworth, you are all charm and courtesy,” she said acerbically. “But what happens when I win, and you fail? Will you still be so charming?”
She wanted to hit out at him, to blame him for the burning restlessness, the riot of unfulfilled desire. Did he not feel the sweet torment himself? He most certainly did and worse, for he knew what should have proceeded from the seduction, and she did not.
He could not but grin inwardly when he thought of the mending of this particular malaise. It surely would make their next encounter all the sweeter. And with that he had to be satisfied for he could delay no more.
“Be sure, you’ll not see my charming side ever again. I’m not going to let you touch me,” she bit out in temper.
He shrugged, dropping a pile of garments on the bed next to her.
He knelt on the bed, and she saw his dimple wink as he leaned over to plant one brief kiss upon her lips.
“I imagine we will have to wait and see if that works for you. Take heed, though, for I expect to win with or without your charm.”
Lily tried to push him away. “You arroga—“
“Uh, uh, uh,” he said, tapping a forefinger on her mouth with each sound he uttered, “No poor losers…. Alas, much as I would enjoy sparring with you further, there is truly no time.”
He pulled her to her feet and smacked her bottom lightly. “Get dressed. Unless you would like to display yourself like Lady Godiva, in which case don’t. After the way I railed at them this morning, my men could do with some cheering up.”