Chapter 21 #3
He looked at her with such ardor and hunger, it made her feel faint. One glance below his belt told her he was nigh bursting with desire. Yet he held back, trying to stifle his animal instincts.
“I want to see ye,” she murmured.
His chest heaved as he gazed silently at her.
“Lie with me,” she said.
She could see a battle raging in his eyes.
She clarified. “Now that we have a real bed, I want to feel ye next to me. To feel your warm flesh against mine. To feel our hearts beatin’ together.”
He still looked wary.
She let her gaze fall to the male part of him, straining against his trews with fierce need.
She licked her lips and whispered, “If ye like, we can lie together, and I can use my hand.”
The silver flash of passion in his eyes was answer enough. He unbuckled his belt. Kicked off his boots, Stripped off his clothes. And when he wrested out of his braies, his cock—big and bold and brazen—almost gave her pause.
Was she sure she was ready for this?
But there was no time to reconsider. In the next moment, he stretched out beside her on the pallet. And though they hadn’t yet made contact, she could feel the heat of his need like the glow coming off of a blacksmith’s forge.
Suddenly he loomed large and imposing. She felt overwhelmed and overpowered. Despite his gentle, caring nature, being this close to his naked body reminded her that he was a fierce and dangerous warrior with Viking blood and shoulders like an ox.
What if he became angry with her?
But in the next instant, she forgot her fears. He draped one leg over hers and drew her close, taking her into the circle of his arms and cradling her against his chest. Strength and warmth and energy emanated from him as he surrounded her in his protective love.
He must have felt their combined potency too. He moved his hands over her, groaning at the sweet friction between them.
With bold purpose, she sought out his staff with her hand, wrapping her fingers around the firm column.
He gasped in awe.
But again she wondered if she’d made a mistake. He seemed impossibly big. What if she injured herself?
He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, using his tongue to make her palm wet and slick.
She found him again and began to move her hand in the rhythm he’d taught her.
He growled with pleasure and dug his fingers into her buttocks, pressing her hips toward his until they were flesh to flesh. There was just enough room for her hand to squeeze between them. Yet it still didn’t feel close enough.
As she sensed the changes in him—his focused expression, his quickened breathing, his tightened muscles—she decided it was time.
She wrapped one leg over him and turned him onto his back, straddling his hips.
He stiffened in surprise and threw up his hands. But when she continued to stroke him and began rocking herself against his hips, he melted back into a sensuous languor.
She too found pleasure at the pressure of his body upon hers. She began climbing the mountain of erotic delight. The higher she climbed, the less control she had. Soon she was bucking and arching, searching for the right movement that would catapult her to the top.
And as she ascended, so too did Hew. His face was strained. His fists were as white as the bedlinens he clutched. As his cock thrust within her hand, his hips crashed into hers.
Finally, when her passions were stirred to a fever pitch and she sensed he was about to explode, she rose on her knees and aimed his dagger of flesh toward her womanly sheath. With urgent haste, she lowered herself onto him.
There was a wee pinch, less painful than a bee sting, and then a throbbing fullness.
He cried out, half in ecstasy, half in dismay.
Then he froze. A look of horror and disbelief crossed his face. A look that made her panic. Had she been wrong to do it? Did he think she was a shameless wanton? Did he despise her now?
Unable to endure his judgment, but unwilling to stop now, she closed her eyes and resumed her movements. He didn’t resist. Soon the feeling of invasion became one of union as they strove together toward a common goal.
Whatever Hew thought of her, his body at least was delighted. He squeezed her buttocks as he thrust inside her over and over, and she rode him like a galloping steed, ascending that hill of desire once again.
When she reached the top, he stiffened at the same time. As waves of release crashed down upon her, he pulled out of her, pulsing and spilling his seed over his own belly.
Hew felt ashamed. And villainous. And spineless.
It had always been up to him to make sure he never harmed Carenza.
After all, she wasn’t experienced. And he was.
Now he’d violated her trust. Compromised her virtue. Taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness.
There was no excuse for it. No apology that would suffice for what he’d stolen. No amends that would restore her virginity.
Still, he was a man of honor. He had to make the attempt.
Unable to look her in the eye, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, my lady. I ne’er meant to hurt you. I know better. I shouldn’t have begun this. I should have had more patience. ’Tis all my fault. Will you e’er forgive me?”
“What?”
The odd tone of her voice drew his eye.
Carenza wasn’t hurt. Or sad. Or distressed.
She was confused. “What is all your fault?”
He spread his hands to indicate their situation. “This.”
She scoffed. “This is your fault?”
“Of course.” These things were always the man’s fault. Husbands never came after their wives when they were cuckolded. They came after the other man.
“But…I invited ye to this chamber, aye?”
“Aye.”
“And I asked ye to lie naked with me?”
“You did.”
“And who is loomin’ o’er ye right now like a bloody conquerin’ hero?”
He smirked. He could see her point. But he didn’t have to agree with it.
“’Tis a matter of honor,” he explained. “I should have prevented you. A man can’t expect a woman to control her sexual impulses. ’Tis up to the man to…” He stopped, because she was giving him the most curious smile. “What?”
“It seems to me ye’re the one lyin’ in a pool o’,” she said, glancing down at the mess he’d made, “sexual impulses.”
That was a bit unfair. Indeed, he’d managed to curtail his sexual impulses at the last moment and pulled out before he could risk planting a bairn in her. Not all men would be so careful.
“Nonetheless,” he said, “I apologize for neglecting my responsibilities. I can’t undo what’s been done. But I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
“It had better happen again,” she said with a frown, “because there’s somethin’ ye should know.
” She crossed her arms over her breasts, which only made them look plumper and more tempting.
“This was my idea. All my idea. I wanted this to happen. I meant for it to happen.” She lifted her chin proudly.
“I’m weary o’ waitin’ for criminals and kings and monks to steer my fate.
” She shrugged. “So did I seize the reins and ride away on a wild horse? Aye. Maybe. But ’twas my choice.
And I’d do it again. I will do it again. Many, many…many times.”
Hew couldn’t help but be moved. Carenza looked like a goddess, sitting astride him as if she rode into battle. Brave and beautiful and determined. Full of righteousness and rebellion. She might not be a warrior maid. But in this moment, he believed she had the strength of ten men.
Still, he wasn’t convinced. No matter how tempting the thought of making love to her “many, many, many times” was, in their world it would brand her a wanton. That he wouldn’t abide. He scowled and opened his mouth to counter her.
But she wasn’t finished with her diatribe. And she wouldn’t let him get a word in.
“We love each other, aye?”
He nodded.
“And we’re married where it counts. In our hearts.” She placed her hand over his chest, where that utterly smitten heart pounded. “Whate’er we do with our bodies must be right and pure, because we love each other.”
She wove her words like a net around him. Lulling him. Luring him in. Trapping him.
He knew she was wrong. Things were never that simple. But he was already caught. And he had to admit he was not unhappy to be entangled in the net of her affections.
“Findin’ this bed here…” She shook her head in wonder. “’Tis as if my mother herself has given me her blessin’.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
Hew had other ideas about that. The pallet was horribly uncomfortable. If he hadn’t been distracted by the lovely maid riding him, he would have moved to the floor.
“Because I’ve ne’er had a pallet poke me in the backside with such enthusiasm.”
“What?”
“It feels like ’tis stuffed with sticks and stones.”
“’Tis stuffed with goose feathers.”
“Are you sure they plucked them off the geese?”
She moved off of him. “Let me see.”
He got up from the bed and made use of a linen square from the tub to clean up.
She settled onto the pallet and began rolling back and forth.
“Och!” she said, arching up as something prodded her in the back. “What is that?”
She knelt by the bed then and began exploring the contours of the pallet with her hands.
“I think there’s somethin’ in here.”
He knelt beside her and felt the same contours. “Or under it.”
He slipped his hands under the pallet and lifted it up off the knotted frame.
She gasped.