Chapter 7 #4
When he placed the last piece of pastry within her mouth, Briar let her tongue dart against his finger. His breath hissed in, his body immediately tensing. Slowly, Briar looked up into his eyes. He searched her face, and she saw the moment when he read her own need. And yet he hesitated.
Waited.
Gently, Briar touched his lips with her fingers, lingering, tracing the texture and shape. He closed his eyes with a groan. And yet still he did not respond with his own fingers. Why did he not respond? Slowly the reason came to her...
He is awaiting my lead.
The knowledge thrilled her. No man had let her lead before.
To be in charge of such a situation gave her a feeling, of power.
She paused, enjoying it, but her urgency was too great.
Briar leaned closer, searching that stark, fierce face.
With his eyes closed she could see him as he must have been before his hard life began to mold him into the warrior he now was.
It was Ivo’s eyes that were so full of ancient pain.
Briar brushed fingertips lightly over his closed lids, then down over the harsh planes of his cheekbones, to the rough stubble on his jaw.
She felt lightheaded.
Her body tingled and ached. Suddenly it wasn’t enough just to touch. Briar wanted to taste him, too.
She stretched up and pressed her lips to his.
Without hesitation he kissed her back, tenderly, brushing his lips slowly back and forth against hers, content to play at innocence.
Again waiting for her lead. It was Briar who opened her mouth.
With a groan, Ivo followed, deepened his kiss, his tongue finding hers.
His hands slid up into her hair, teasing out her braid, shaking the tresses so that they spilled down her back and around her shoulders.
Briar moved closer, her arms circling his neck, her mouth drinking from his.
Her breasts ached, and she leaned harder against his broad chest, enjoying the friction between them.
His hands caressed her back, moving down, closing briefly on her hips, and then curving to the shape of her bottom through the coarse stuff of her gown.
Briar wriggled around, helping him to lift her, turn her, until she straddled his thighs with hers.
They were both in the place they wanted now, the bulge between his legs stroking the sweet, swollen ache between hers.
Briar rose up on her knees with a gasp, pressing closer, moving against him, seeking the pleasure she knew he could give.
“Let me inside you, demoiselle.” He groaned the words against her mouth. “Let me ease your sore heart.”
Briar did not know if he would ease her sore heart, but he would certainly ease something else.
And why not? ‘Twas only what they had done before.
And she needed him now. Just as she had not comprehended how hungry she was for food and wine, before he fed her, neither had she imagined how much she hungered for Ivo.
Should she be doing this?
The questioning voice in her head was faint but audible.
Somehow she pulled back. Both of them were breathing quickly, hovering on the brink.
He looked dazed with need, but still he restrained himself, waiting, making it her decision whether they took that next step or not.
Once again the knowledge that she was in charge soothed Briar’s doubts, and gave her the courage to follow her body’s urging.
Slowly, still gazing into his face, Briar moved her hips against him, blatantly.
Ivo groaned, completely enraptured by the sensation, his head falling back to expose the long masculine line of his throat.
Briar leaned forward to run her tongue over his salty skin, down to the hollow there, just as she had been longing to do.
Ivo drew another ragged breath. “Ah, lady, I am about to burst.”
She laughed softly and nipped his skin.
He adjusted his grip on her bottom, his fingers digging into her firm flesh, lifting her, changing the contact between them until it was even more urgent.
This time it was Briar who moaned, her mouth pressed in a hot, open kiss to his throat.
She reached down to fumble with the laces of his breeches, unable to wait any longer. Needing him inside her. Now.
Just as the owner of the hostelry cleared his throat.
Loudly.
Briar leaned back against Ivo’s chest, warm beneath the folds of her cloak, while the horse moved smoothly beneath them.
Her body was unfulfilled, but the ache had faded somewhat.
Ivo had been grumpy when they left, glaring at the man as if he would like to run him through.
His display of bad temper had eased Briar’s, and she smiled.
“Next time you must find a private chamber that is not so popular, de Vessey.”
Ivo grunted and gave her a cross look. “I did not know it was popular when I reserved it, demoiselle. I thought you would need a place to recover yourself, that was all.”
“Was it?” she mocked, not quite so amused now. “So you arranged with the innkeeper to bring me there? Well, it seems others were also keen to avail themselves of his chamber. There was a queue outside the door, de Vessey. The host had no choice but to hurry us along.”
“Curse him.”
Briar laughed in delight. The sound surprised her; she had not laughed like that in a long time.
She wondered if she should force a frown, suppress her high spirits.
‘Twas not wise to feel so alive, not safe—if she had learned one thing in the past two years, then ‘twas that.
But she did not want to lose this lightness inside her, this new sense of optimism.
Deliberately, she leaned back into Ivo’s chest, ignoring his restless shiftings, and put her palm on his thigh.
He jumped as if she had been red hot, and removed her hand.
“Demoiselle,” he said through gritted teeth, “it is not safe for you to touch me yet.”
“Taking me to Sir Anthony has not altered my mind, you know,” she said. “I still believe Radulf arranged Anna’s death because she was inconvenient to him. Nothing else makes sense.”
“She was inconvenient to many,” Ivo muttered, shifting about again. “What of the others? You need to discover who her lovers were, near to the time of her death.”
Briar snuggled against him, returning her hand to his hard thigh. She loved the movement of muscle under his skin, but she would never tell him that.
“You are right,” she said, surprising herself and him. “Aye, I would know how matters lay between my father and Anna in those last days. I need to know for my own sake as much as theirs.”
He was silent a moment, and she pretended to gaze about her at the busy, narrow street, pretended that she was not totally aware of him, close behind her.
“I will help you.”
Briar tilted her head back so that she could see him properly. He glanced down at her, gave her a faint, knowing smile, and then concentrated on the road ahead.
“Why will you help me?” she demanded, not sure herself why his offer was so important to her. “Is it because you believe Radulf to be innocent?”
“There is that, aye,” he said thoughtfully, and removed her hand from his thigh. “But that is not really why I want to help, lady. It is because you need to be free of this burden you have placed upon yourself. ‘Tis a heavy weight for you to bear.”
“ ‘Tis not so heavy.” Briar knew that was the truth. ‘Twas only her vow that held her to her task now. The dark, tattered cloak of hatred she had worn for two years was gone. How had he done that? She didn’t know, only that when Ivo had come into her life, it had begun to change.
“But you are right,” she went on, slipping her hand back onto his leg, smoothing the tight stuff of his breeches. “I do need to know the truth. Anna’s murderer must be found and punished. Only then can I and my sisters make a new life, without pain.”
“Then that is what we will do.”
“You have no doubts, do you, Ivo?” she asked curiously. He sounded so certain, so confident.
“Demoiselle, I have many doubts, but they will not stop me from finding your stepmother’s killer.
” He smiled without humor, taking her hand firmly in his and holding it captive.
“I want you, Briar, and until the past is dealt with, until you are free of it, you will never be able to give yourself fully to any man.”
Briar gazed ahead, knowing that he spoke the truth.
I want you too, Ivo.
The words sounded in her head, but unlike Ivo she was not yet ready to say them aloud.