Chapter 6
Patrik met Cristina’s mouth halfway, soft, steady, firm with intent. He gently backed her against the smooth wall and pressed his body flush against hers. Heat exploded inside, poured through him, engulfed him until it was as if his body was on fire.
He groaned as Cristina’s body molded against his. God in heaven, their earlier kiss had but hinted at the breadth of the woman within, of her desire. She was a woman crafted by the fantasies of many a man.
With his blood pounding hot, he drew on her tongue, savored her taste. Would even this night be enough? Aye, he would make it so.
He took the kiss deeper, wanting her whimpers of need, her mews of pleasure as he slowly made love to her.
The force of his need left his fingers trembling as he slid his hand down the silk of her throat. With slow enjoyment, he unbound the first tie, and then cupped the curve of her breast.
At her gasp of pleasure, desire ripped through him. He ignored the urge to strip her, to take what his body demanded. He’d wanted to make love to her, but their joining would be more than finding release. More than he’d ever expected.
As if life ever gave you what you expected?
Now, he’d been given the gift of this woman, a woman he must let go on the morrow.
With infinite care, he teased her bud, skimmed his fingers over the taut flesh as he claimed her lips. He savored the softness of her mouth, amazed at how she gave back, more than he could have ever believed.
Her body trembled, shifted restlessly against his.
He hardened, painfully so. Patrik cupped the back of her neck, turned with her until his back pressed against the wall. He caught her hand and laid it over his hard length to show her how she pleased him.
Cristina stiffened, jerked her hand free.
Stunned, Patrik broke their kiss. Within her passion, he caught a hint of fear. “You are safe with me.” He kept his words soft, gentle so as not to alarm her further.
Her mouth swollen with his kisses, she stared at him, her nerves easy to read. “I-I thought you wanted to make love to me?”
Damn him, he’d pushed her too fast. “I want you, never doubt that. But what we share this night is your decision. We are both tired, our desires tangled with fatigue.” She wet her lips; his body trembled with wanting her.
“Neither can I forget the attack of two days past, nor the loss of your husband, a man you loved. As much as I want you in my bed, never have I taken advantage of a woman, neither will I begin now.”
“I . . .” Cristina looked away.
With his entire body aching, he released her. “I will retrieve the blankets to make a pallet.”
“Patrik—”
He stopped, did not face her. “Say naught unless you mean it. I am but a man.”
Shaking with what she’d almost allowed, aching with needs unfulfilled, Emma struggled to admit what her body desired, what her heart yearned to feel.
How did she explain that the shock of an intimate touch ignited flashes of the rape during her youth?
And of the endless hours afterward, when she’d lain abandoned, bleeding in the shadows upon the cold, filthy stone.
At her silence, Patrik nodded. “So be it.” He strode to a shield of rocks, withdrew blankets hidden behind them. In the clearing, he spread them out.
He was upset, how could he not be? She’d believed herself strong enough to be with a man and was wrong. “I am sorry.”
Storm-filled eyes met hers. “Do not be. My wanting you does not make the time right.”
“As if there will ever be a time right for either of us?” The words spilled out before she could stop them. “Forgive me. I should not have spoken.”
“Why? On the morrow we will part, never again to see each other. I should not have pushed you to choices you are not ready for.” He nodded. “For that I am sorry.”
He referred to her supposed rape by the English knights. Guilt swept through her.
Patrik walked over, placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. “Go to sleep, Cristina. If you should want to talk, I have been known to be a good listener.” He walked to the fire and sat before the flames, his back toward her.
Damn him and his honorable ways! “I want you as well.”
He tensed.
“Never has a man kissed me like you.” At his silence, anger trampled over caution. “I want you to make love with me, but I know not if I can.”
Patrik shoved to his feet. With quiet steps he walked over. Dark eyes assessed her, softened. “Tell me.”
She wanted to, desperately. Emma wrung her hands and studied the flicker of flames.
“Look at me.”
Emma lifted her eyes. The sincerity of his gaze stole her breath. If she told him of the rape during her youth, it would explain her hesitance, yet raise questions about her husband’s touch. But she needed him to understand.
And offer yet another lie?
No, in this she would give him truth. “After my husband was murdered—” She struggled for the right words. “—one of the English knights caught me and I was raped.”
Fury burned his eyes.
“The man . . .” She stared at the distant rush of water, the years rolling past, seeing the merchant’s greedy hands, feeling the pain of his assault.
“I tried to run, to escape. I could not get away.” A sob escaped, then another.
Emotions she’d withheld, had never shared with another, broke free.
Hands, strong and tender, caught her, drew her against him, held her as if she was something precious.
“God, lass,” he whispered, “I am so sorry.”
Her tears fell harder, in part at the memories, in part that even in her horror she invited deception. She shook her head. “I no longer cry.”
Patrik wiped her cheek. “Tears do not make you weak, but alive.”
“It hurts to feel.” She sniffed. “I swore never again to care.”
“’Tis an unreasonable vow,” he said, his words without censure. “Our feelings are not for us to dictate.”
She fought to give him a smile, failed. “I was doing well until I met you.”
His mouth opened as if to say more. Instead, he drew her close, the steady beat of his heart reassuring, making her want to stay there forever.
“You need to rest.” His quiet words held an edge of tension, and of need as well.
Emma looked up. “But I want you.”
Instead of heat, tenderness filled his gaze. “As I do you, never doubt that. But with your emotions so raw, you are not ready.”
“I—”
He pressed a finger over her mouth. “On this I will not budge.”
At his thoughtfulness, fresh tears threatened. Though he might never admit it, they both understood that after the events of this moment, the bond between them had changed, had deepened.
“Come.” He led her to where he’d made a pallet. “We are both tired and need sleep.”
She nodded, emotions storming her as she walked by his side. They halted before the fire, but she found herself unable to let him go.
“Patrik?”
“Aye?”
“Will you hold me?”
Tenderness creased his face. “ ’Twould be a fine thing.”
Shyness touched her, ridiculous to feel after asking him to make love to her, more so after their heated kiss when he’d touched her, made her body come alive.
He helped her settle, then wrapped his hand around her waist and drew her against him. Warmth surrounded her, a contentment she’d never expected to feel.
Emma snuggled against him. “Thank you.”
He kissed her brow. “Go to sleep.”
His muscled body pressed against hers, inspiring desire more than sleep, but within his arms, she felt safe, protected, feelings she’d never experienced. She closed her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of drifting off.
On a sigh, Patrik shifted, and the writ within his trews bumped her.
Guilt severed the warmth of the moment. She closed her eyes and prayed that when Patrik learned the truth, somehow, he could find forgiveness.
At the soft brush against her cheek, Emma shifted closer to the warmth and fought to reclaim the haze of sleep.
A soft scrape tickled her ear.
Frustrated, she swatted at the pesky irritant, but a firm pressure stayed her hand. Confused, she opened her eyes and stared into Patrik’s face.
Amusement warmed his hazel eyes.
“I was asleep.”
“So you were.” He claimed her mouth, soft, warm, seducing her until her sleep-jumbled mind collided with thick emotion.
On a groan, he rolled her onto her back with his body atop hers, his weight upon his elbows while his mouth continued its amazing foray. Heat poured through her, hot, seducing, eroding her thoughts.
Patrik lifted his head, gave her a tender smile. “A kiss from a beautiful lass is a fine way to begin the morning.”
“’Tis pleasing,” she replied, fighting to keep the tumble of reality from stealing this fragment of bliss.
“Pleasing?” A wicked smile touched his face as he settled himself more intimately against her. “If my kiss is merely pleasing, I am doing a poor job of it. Neglect I will be fixing.”
“Patrik—”
He smothered her words, destroyed her thoughts with mind-stunning intensity. He used teeth and tongue, taking, tasting, his hands caressing her until her mind tumbled into a blissful haze.
Patrik nipped along the curve of her jaw. “Tell me, lass, was that merely pleasing?”
Breathless, her body alive from his touch, Emma trembled.
His smug expression assured her he knew exactly how his kisses made her feel.
Would it be so wrong to enjoy this time with him, to take what could not be?
Never had she wanted a man or believed she could find desire.
But Patrik, with the depth of his caring, with his sincerity and passion, had changed everything.
Guilt tore through her. If he learned of her deception, he would hate her.
But how did his hatred weigh against loneliness?
Tears burned her throat. God in heaven, however wrong, she would take this moment, store it in her mind to keep.
If her actions damned her to hell, it was a path too well trod.
She stared at the fire burning nearby, the darkness beyond, a blackness that for too long coated her soul. Too soon she would reclaim the bleakness she called her life.
A life alone.