Chapter Two #3
The tip of his tongue brushed against her lips and her eyes flew open in surprise.
His golden eyes, so like her hawk's, met hers.
Then his tongue brushed against her lips again, parting them and plunging inside to sweep her mouth.
Her knees would have buckled had he not held her.
She sighed at the blissful stirrings. A sea of clouds surrounded her, blinding her to everything but his captivating kiss.
Her sex tightened when he deepened the kiss further, his hand brushing across her breast. He cupped her flesh and gave a gentle squeeze. A violent quiver swept over her. She wanted more of this tempting, wicked delight.
***
Royce rapidly lost his grip on the thread of control as he caressed his betrothed's breast. Even through the bliaut, the feel of her scorched his hand, the press of her hardened nipple tempting him.
He pinched lightly, delighted with the quiver that swept over her, even as she so pleasingly responded to his kiss.
He repeated the motion and she moaned into his mouth, stirring him beyond what he thought he could bear.
His cock hardened at the thought of pulling her dress away so he could see her flesh. Touch her more fully.
To prevent himself from acting on the impulse, he swept his fingers through the velvet of her hair, realizing his earlier fanciful imaginings.
It did little to stem the rush of need. Her musky taste tempted him almost beyond his control.
He fought the urge to lower her to the ground and take her there in the mews.
With a groan, he set her away. When had a woman ever stirred him so much, and so quickly?
'Twas but another danger his bride presented. He turned to face her once more.
Her eyes, darkened to a deep violet, slowly opened to meet his.
Her lips still held a soft pucker. He groaned aloud.
Damned if he didn't want to toss convention aside and simply take her now.
Remembering where they were, he turned to block the sight of her flushed face and swollen lips.
This slip of a girl had bewitched him somehow.
Mayhap once they were wed, and he'd taken his pleasure, this powerful yearning would subside.
"We must get back. And know this; you are not to wander alone, especially at night, anymore."
"You worry for nothing. And I will not be confined."
"You are my wife and you will obey!"
"Not yet, my lord. And if you don't take care, 'twill never happen."
He grabbed her arm once more. "Do you threaten me?"
She gave him a sly smile. "I can petition the king for a delay."
"There is no time. You will wed me in the morn, if I have to bind you hand and foot."
Her eyes widened, but he found only fury. No fear.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Aye. Do not test me."
He let go of her arm and she turned away.
Royce noticed her hands clenched and held back a smile.
Would she dare? Part of him wished she might strike again, for then he'd have more reason to punish her.
The thought of taming the fire he sensed in the woman who would be his added to a slowly growing anticipation.
She made a noise, half an outraged growl, half a sob. Without another word, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the bailey. When they reached the castle steps, he released her.
"Go inside."
He gave a nod and turned, lost in the turmoil of thought. The sense of entrapment grew along with all the other sensations fighting to overtake the others. He paced in the bailey for several minutes. He needed to put everything but securing the lands aside.
Yet, the recollection of Lady Gillian in his arms, her mouth softening beneath his, remained a constant. His cock stayed half-hard.
The chill of the autumn night soon enabled him to gain control, though did nothing to cool his yearning.
Lady Gillian was an intriguing contradiction.
One moment she challenged him, sparks in her eyes.
Other times, she viewed him with wariness and hesitation.
He preferred the sparks. His cheek still tingled from her slap.
He gave a wry smile. She would pay for that tomorrow.
He thought about what Burke had told him.
And wondered why his bride didn't. Her mother was Welsh, rumored to be a distant cousin of the prince who waited in Shrewsbury for his trial.
Was there any chance Lyndon was not loyal to Edward?
It might explain Gillian's lack of concern over her safety.
If she had shared this herself, he might be inclined to trust her, but since she had not, suspicion remained.
He frowned. He had many ways to lure secrets from prisoners.
Mayhap he should approach this marriage in the same way until he absolutely proved she wasn't a traitor.
The very real heat between them was a valuable tool, one to wield to gain what he needed.
He smiled as he formulated a plan to learn all of his betrothed's secrets.
Once she was his wife, he would exercise complete power over her.
Pleased with his solution, he gave a last glance around the bailey.
All appeared still. He entered the hall, surveying the combined forces of his and Lyndon's men.
There were more than sufficient troops to subdue any rebellion attack.
But if the danger came from within, 'twould not matter how many able men he had.
***
He kept his step light, not wanting anyone to know of his presence here. Though the chambers on this lower level of the keep went mostly unused, he did not want to take the chance of being seen by anyone other than his lover. His worry for her outweighed his anger at her foolish actions.
When he neared her chamber, her face came into view against the small window in the door.
"'Tis about time," she snapped. "I wondered if you would ever come."
"I had to make sure none knew I was here. The Panther seeks his bride; there is little time before he returns."
"Free me." She reached her hand through the door.
He shook his head. "Nay, 'tis not the right time. Soon, our forces will arrive and you will be brought to safety."
"But the babe..."
"Why did you attack Lyndon's daughter? 'Twas a foolish mistake."
Anne lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I... that girl and her wedding has ruined all we've planned. My anger overtook me."
The remorse in her tone softened his brusque manner. "But now you are locked away, where you cannot help me. I depended on you and you failed."
"Please, forgive me. The babe has made me ill. I wasn't thinking clearly."
He sighed. He knew her condition made her emotions more uneven than usual. "Here."
He slipped a cloth-wrapped bundle through the small hole. Inside were several pieces of meat, a few tarts and some bread. 'Twas all he could manage to gather without raising suspicion and he hoped it would be enough. He doubted anyone had given her a meal since locking her in here.
"Please let me out."
"Soon, my love, I promise. I must go before anyone grows suspicious of my absence."
"Wait. I've learned something. We've not spoken ere now, so you do not know."
"Know what?"
"There is another who can claim Lyndon for Edward."
His fingers tightened on the bars of the window. Anne reached up and laid her hand against them. Why did he not know of this?
"Tell me."
"My husband has a bastard-born son. He has acknowledged him in a letter to the king, which is to be given to him should anything befall the Panther and his bride."
"It cannot be." This news required changes to his plan and little time to implement them.
Anne nodded. "He gave the letters to a messenger be delivered to the king the night before he passed."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know. I only happened upon this when they were almost finished. They don't know what I've learned."
His eyes narrowed, but he composed himself to see the panic in her eyes. But he could not so easily put aside his annoyance this time.
"If you knew this, then this makes your actions earlier the more foolish and risky to our endeavors. We could have lost all because of your temper."
"'Tis too late to change things."
He nodded, but his annoyance didn't ebb. "This information is useful. You have done well. I will try to determine who this bastard son is. He must be eliminated. Now."
He leaned over and she put her face close to the window. He brushed his fingers along her lips, savoring her sigh before he drew away.
"You'll be free soon. And we'll be together."
He turned and did not look back until he had climbed the stairs and closed the door behind him.