Chapter 5
With deliberate care, Damien released Alissende, easing her to her feet before stepping back and away from her as swiftly as he could.
His insides were a jumble. His mind—and other parts of him—flamed with desires that had been stimulated almost beyond bearing in the act of kissing her.
In hearing those soft sounds she’d made as his mouth had captured hers, tasting her again after so long…
In feeling her body pressed against him and breathing in her tantalizing scent until his body had pulsed with the need to take her in all the ways they’d once known so well together.
Heaven help him…
He had to stop this, damn it. Right now.
Glad for the shielding dark of the chamber, he stalked over to one of the few windows not filled with leaded glass and pushed open the shutter, letting in the fragrant summer breeze.
And then he simply stood there, looking out and taking in deep, even breaths, trying to recapture his self-control.
Behind him, he could hear Alissende’s faint movements; she had shifted from their spot in the doorway to approach the hearth.
Soon he realized that she was completing the task the servants would have done had he not sent them away.
She lit several of the beeswax tapers scattered about in as much abundance here as they had been in every other chamber he’d seen in the castle.
Behind him, a muted glow flickered to life, dispelling the darkness; it created a shadow of her movements, a graceful display against the lush blue and gold designs painted on the wall next to the window where he stood.
But still he could not bring himself to turn and face her directly. Not yet.
The room fell quiet. He concentrated on looking out and heard naught but the sound of the summer breeze whispering around the crenellations…
until a tiny clicking noise at last drew his attention.
Instinctively, he hazarded a glance toward the source of the sound and immediately regretted the decision.
Alissende was loosening her hair from its pins and circlet. Freeing those fragrant, glorious tresses in preparation for bed. Hellfire and damnation…
He tried to pull his gaze away but could not.
To his gratitude, she was sitting with her back to him, on a bench at one of the large wooden trunks that served as a table between travels.
Her arms were lifted as she removed the delicate jeweled pins, setting each one down carefully as she pulled it loose of the arrangement.
The final pin came free, releasing the spill of dark, wavy silk down her back, and Damien felt his gut clench, felt his breath seize up in his chest. He was forced to fist his hands in response to the sudden, powerful memory that swept through him of another time and place…
of burying his hands in that soft bounty to tip her head back as he lavished kisses along the tender, exposed column of her throat and lower, ah, sweet heaven, yes, much lower…
He choked back a groan, but not swiftly enough. Alissende stiffened; he saw her breathe in and heard her gentle, full exhalation before she twisted around to face him.
She met his gaze, and he saw that her vulnerable expression of earlier had been replaced by a look of seeming composure.
Only one thing marred her controlled aspect.
As had been the case since the day he’d met her, her eyes revealed all the inner workings of her heart, no matter how she tried to mask it.
And right now she was not feeling as calm as she pretended.
“Do you wish to retire to the bed, then?” she asked.
Surprise and a sharp, unwelcome jolt of heat shot through him. Suppressing it by force of pure will, he raised his brow at her in challenge.
Her cheeks tinted a delicate pink, and he saw her struggle not to glance away. “I refer only to our arrangements for sleep, Damien. As lord of Glenheim, use of the bed is your right.”
“And what of you?”
“That depends upon your wishes,” she replied evenly, and he could not help but admire the way she kept her gaze steadfast upon him; if this moment was proving half as difficult for her as it was for him, then she was a veritable pillar of strength.
“Wishes and necessity often travel two separate paths, Alissende,” he murmured, gratified to see a tiny crack appear in her armor, when the hands she’d folded so placidly in her lap clenched in response.
But still she kept her gaze constant, and he realized that he would not—could not—continue this sparring with her. Too much had happened today already, and he was feeling far too raw.
“The bed seems wide enough to accommodate us both in such a way that our agreement can be honored without fear,” he settled for saying in a low voice. “However, tonight, I think it is safe to say that any restful sleep will elude me. You may retire to the bed alone.”
“As you wish.”
Damien felt a tiny jab of warning at her nonchalant tone.
What—no argument? But it was too much for his tormented mind to unravel right now, so he pushed it aside and finished somewhat awkwardly, “You may prepare for sleep in privacy; I will turn around until you are within the enclosure of the bed curtains.”
“Then you will be waiting for a very long time.”
“Why?” Damien frowned, wanting nothing more but to have this already painful day over.
“Because I cannot disrobe by myself,” Alissende replied matter-of-factly. She half twisted to show him the laces and a few very expensive buttons along the slender length of her back.
“How do you usually accomplish it?” he demanded.
“My lady’s maid assists me. But you sent her away. Remember?” She blinked once at him, and if he wasn’t so tired, he might have sworn that her gaze bore a glint of stung pride and—and the light of battle, by all that was holy.
“You will have to call her back, then.” Damien’s mind refused to consider the alternative. Nay, he could not venture there.
Alissende gazed at him, not speaking. But those eyes…blast it, as always she spoke volumes with them, only this time the message he read there pricked at his masculine honor.
“What?” he growled.
She paused, seeming as if she might answer, but then that horribly placid expression swept over her face again, and she gave a tiny shrug. “As you wish.”
“Stop saying that.”
Her lips pursed, but she remained silent.
“Tell me what you intended to say,” he demanded, not the least bit mollified by her seeming cooperation.
“I cannot.” She gave him a look of pure innocence. “You’ve forbidden me speaking it again.”
Damien restrained another growl, clenching his teeth to mutter, “Not the cursed ‘as you wish.’ Tell me what you were going to say in response to my suggestion that you call your lady’s maid back to this chamber.”
“Oh.”
“Well?” he demanded after another pause.
“I thought you might wish to reconsider how it would look.”
He glared at her in exasperation. “Explain.”
She pinned him with her gaze, clearly relishing the opportunity he had opened with his command for her to speak.
“It is supposed to be our wedding night, and yet after sending everyone away, it will appear that you are not up to the challenge of removing your bride’s garments for what would usually follow the retreat to the marriage chamber. ”
Her tone held an edge that belied her continued calm expression as she continued, “When word of that spreads, the people of Glenheim will either think you unskilled in a way most unflattering—or else anything you may have accomplished with your zealous display of kissing me in the great hall will have been for naught, as the gossip over the honesty of our union will erupt anew.”
Damnation.
Damien scowled, unable to refute her. He met her gaze, hoping to intimidate her with his own, to make her realize that she was playing with fire in this, logic be damned.
She did not flinch.
Very well. No one could ever say he was the kind of man to back down willingly from a challenge. He fisted his hands, his jaw tightening.
“Turn around.”
Her eyes widened a bit, but she did as he commanded; however, he noted how stiffly she held herself.
Ah, could it be that this woman, who seemed to have turned into a creature of veritable stone since they’d entered this room, was capable of feeling, then, and perhaps fires similar to those which were burning him from the inside out at the thought of this?
The idea filled him with a sense of grim satisfaction that helped bolster him for what was to come.
It still took him what seemed a full minute to steady himself before he reached out to touch her hair, pushing it forward over her shoulder to reveal the laces.
The lustrous weight felt silken against his palm, and a hint of fragrance wafted up, teasing his senses with unmerciful power.
His hand began to shake, and he was forced to clench it into a fist and then release it again before he could trust himself to begin with the laces and three buttons that would need loosening.
“Is aught amiss?”
She spoke quietly and half-turned her head toward him, the movement exposing the graceful length of her neck more fully to his gaze.
In response, something deep inside him twisted in painful pleasure; he felt an overwhelming urge to brush his lips over that smooth skin, and it was all he could do to hold himself back from it.
She had loved that, once, to have him kiss a sweet path along the side of her neck as he embraced her from behind.
Lavishing gentle kisses that became more compelling caresses when she’d arch into him, murmuring and then making soft sounds of need before she twisted around to lift her mouth to his for a fiercer kind of loving…
Sweet mercy.