Chapter 7 #2
On the ledge, the pigeons strutted and bobbed, locked in their own courtship dance.
Lily gasped. This discussion had suddenly gone awry. Come on, Lily she admonished herself. Her thoughts were in a flutter.
Get out of this trap and quick.
“Oh, oh, but there is every reason to delay,” she said in earnest. “Your idea of giving me time to adjust is an excellent one. Please, what can a few months hurt? I am sure I can learn to adjust. I am a quick learner,” she assured him.
“Why, our priest, Father Michael, said I learned to cipher twice as fast as my brothers…”
“Your point is?”
Lily searched desperately for something to divert him, anything. “I do sometimes have a change of heart, as you put it. It can happen in a flash.”
Shaking his head, he came closer. Lily panicked. She could not move. Two strides and he stood beside her, a knowing look in his eyes.
“If I understood you, but a moment ago, you told me you never change your mind. So, which is it, do you think?”
“Which is what?” she asked and groaned silently. Oh, Lily, she thought sadly, what a deceitful person you have become. She wanted to hang her head in shame, but she did not dare take her eyes from him.
“What does your mind tell you, three weeks or three months?” he asked.
“Neither, I mean, surely, we can be accommodating in this? I know, let’s wait for Saint Elizabeth’s day next year. I should know my mind by then.”
“No.”
“But you cannot mean that—” she gasped, stunned at his ruthless tone. “Why?” she cried when he merely looked at her. “What possible objection could you have?”
He did not answer, but took hold of her wrist, pinning her with his golden glare. One soft tug and she was in his arms. It felt as if iron pinions fenced her in.
His great height and size overwhelmed her. She cried out in surprise and alarm. His maleness, the scent and strength of his body, imposing itself on her all in a rush. She felt lightheaded.
Inside the fog of her brain, warning signals blared. This knight was the exact opposite of the gentle songsters who meandered through her girlish dreams of courtly love. This knight had never heard of Camelot. “You can’t object.”
“Can I not?” said the earl softly, and his large hand clasped the back of her head.
His brilliant, gilded eyes grew hungry, as if he wished to taste her.
That both shocked and intrigued her, as it had in the church.
No one had looked at her that way other than he.
It did strange things to her. It was almost, but not quite, the sleepy look he’d given her in the church.
Her insides suddenly dropped to her feet.
She felt shuddery and no longer in control of herself.
Surely, she told herself, he could not be controlling her will!
His eyes followed his finger as it grazed her slightly opened mouth.
She gasped again, and when she did, he dipped the finger inside and then touched the tip to his tongue as if she were a honey pot.
His eyes grew molten hot and flickered to capture her wide gaze.
Memories of that unnerving moment in the church inundated her.
“Like a lily flower,” he said in a husky voice. “Might I?”
She did not understand his question but stood quietly within the circle of his arms. His mouth descended on hers. The touch so light, so beautiful, it astonished her. Slow and silken, his lips moved to shape themselves to hers, and she thought she would weep with the tenderness of his touch.
His hands began to stroke her back, her neck, encouraging her timid response. Because she did respond.
Immediately, emphatically, savoring the gentleness of his mouth on hers. It did not occur to her to refuse him. His tongue slid easily inside and played sweetly with her own. He made a gruff sound in his throat, a silent command, and she acquiesced before ever she knew what he asked of her.
He brought her impossibly closer. She felt the wild urge that was building in him, but she did not know what it was. Now she was flying upward boundless, no longer in the daily lands she had known all her life.
He tugged again, this time at her clothing. With the lightest touch, he insinuated his fingers inside the neckline of her tunic and began unlacing the camisole beneath. He pushed the fabric down far enough to expose her breasts. She felt chill air move across her skin and panicked.
“It’s all right, lovely Lily,” he whispered, or was it, “let me.” She didn’t know how to respond, but his clever fingers slid up her neck, soothing her until, with a downward stroke, he cupped her breast. Lily did not breathe.
Restless, magical fingers stroked and set fire to her at the same moment.
Her bud-like nipples tightened, and she ached for him to ease the agitation he was causing.
He kissed her as if she were something to be valued.
An ancient melody slipped about them as they stood, listening to notes unheard. It wrapped them in its silken bonds. Lily submitted to its allure.
Edward, feeling her response, wondered silently in his mind. How far should I take this? He felt inclined to explore the delight of her a little further. Had he not seen the sparkle of something bright hidden inside her? Hadn’t that been what attracted him during their little duel in Westminster?
How sweet she tasted. He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Just a little longer, he thought, and deepened his kiss, his breath ragged now as it sounded in his ears.
He possessed her mouth fully, his tongue mimicking the thrust and retreat that his body urgently desired. Now was not the right moment, he told himself with regret. They needed time and a far more fitting setting.
He did not wish to scare his lily flower. Nor diminish her in any way. She was gold, not tin.
For now, he would allow them just a little more pleasure, he thought.
He insinuated a hand beneath the hem of her gown, pushing the fabric slowly up over her waist. His hands smoothed the silk of her hips, and he explored one long and shapely leg, curving his palm lightly over her derriere and tugging her closer.
His fingertips trailed along the creamy skin, so impossibly smooth, that led to the secret center of her.
He felt the brush of curls guarding her soft mound and allowed one tantalizing pass over its plushness.
His groin answered predictably. The pressure built to an unbearable torment even as he knew for a certainty that he’d tipped too close to the edge.
With an effort, he made to stop but seemed unable to follow the instructions of his own will.
He brought his iron-hard erection against the cradling softness of her thighs.
On the very doorstep, her inconvenient innocence intruded from the shadows.
Lily’s muted objection pierced his befogged senses. He released his hold on her more abruptly than he intended.