Chapter Six #3
With much blushing, her maid had attempted to tell her how lovemaking worked.
Although Beitris had a dim view of the act.
In the past, Isobel hadn't been able to imagine it being anything beyond mortifying.
But when she looked at Dirk and his well-muscled body, she thought the coupling might not be as disgusting as she'd thought.
She could almost imagine Dirk naked. But he didn't remove his clothing. He spread his bedroll on the floor before the hearth and lay down.
After covering himself with a wool blanket, he glanced back at her. "Are you going to bed?"
"Aye." She quickly crawled beneath the covers.
"If you don't mind, please refrain from smashing your knee into my stomach tonight."
Mortification seized her. Was he teasing? "I told you I'm sorry for that. Very daft of me."
A small smile lifted one corner of his lips. The expression captivated her. She wished she could see it more often. She would have to think of more ways to make him smile.
How singular it was to share a bedchamber with a man who wasn't trying to paw all over her.
Although… perhaps that meant he wasn't attracted to her.
Still, she couldn't help but trust him. Honor meant more to him than carnal gratification.
Or maybe 'twas only because he was a gentleman with the manners of a chivalrous knight.
She sat up. "I have a confession to make."
"Aye?"
"While I'm asleep, sometimes I walk and talk and do odd things. You must overlook me."
"Ah. That explains it then."
She lifted a brow, realizing he was referring to when she'd done him bodily harm early that morn. "Beitris tries to prevent me from making a fool of myself, but sometimes even that doesn't help."
"Don't fash yourself over it. I'm sure I will survive should you decide to attack me again."
Now she knew he was teasing, blast him. Her face heated, though she grinned. "I hope you don't have any bruises."
"Nay. 'Twould take far more than your knee to cause me damage."
"I'm glad." Lying back on the pillow, she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers over his stomach. What would it look like? She knew it was flat and composed of hard muscle. She'd felt as much that morn. Did it now have a huge blue blotch on it in the shape of her knee?
Feeling safe and warm in the soft bed, imagining Dirk was beside her instead of ten feet away, she drifted toward sleep. She only hoped she didn't try to crawl onto the bedroll beside him in her sleep during the night.
∞∞∞
A quarter hour later, Dirk thought he'd heard Isobel speak. He glanced toward the bed. In the firelight, he saw that she lay on her side, facing him, her eyes closed. "You are strong… virile," she murmured.
Virile? Was she talking in her sleep already? And did she have to put such heated carnal thoughts into his head? Damnation, he felt virile at the moment.
He turned his back to her and covered up, hoping to not hear any more of her unguarded, enticing comments. She put insane notions into his head. It had been too long since his last encounter with a female, many weeks. And now, little was required to fire up his lusts.
Especially around her.
He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, but it only drifted to Isobel, soft and warm in bed. In his imagination, he pulled off his shirt and trews and climbed into bed beside her. He craved feeling her satiny skin sliding over his.
He would untie Isobel's smock and slip it from her delectable body, baring her lush breasts with their peaked, rosy nipples.
He grew hard and feverish just imagining it.
She would give him some inane compliment about his eyes or his virility and kiss him.
He would devour the sweetness of her mouth and stroke his hands over every inch of her silken skin.
In his fantasy, she would aggressively mount him and take him with abandon.
As a widow, she would know what she wanted in bed.
She might even be a deprived widow who was eager for a man's attention.
Damnation, now he was agonizingly hard with no hope for relief in sight.
"Dirk," she murmured from the bed.
Was she awake? Clenching his teeth against the ache in his groin, he glanced back. Her eyes were still closed and she hadn't moved. If she awoke and summonsed him to her bed, what would he do?
God's teeth. He couldn't do anything. She was promised to another, and bound by legal contract, whether she liked it or not. And he definitely didn't like it.
She wouldn't call him to her bed anyway. 'Twas but his own ridiculous fantasy. A fantasy he could not afford to have, given the circumstances.
Forget her. He had to have some sleep so he'd be alert tomorrow.
Forcing his mind to go blank, he slid toward sleep.
"Dirk." Isobel moaned.
At least he thought she'd moaned.
Once again fully alert, he glared over his shoulder at her. Hell, would she torment him all night by murmuring his name in that husky voice? She turned onto her back and moved about restlessly.
Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to face the hearth once again. He needed wool to stuff into his ears to block out her seductive voice calling to him.
Sometime later, Dirk awoke, realizing icy wind was whipping inside the room. What in blazes? The door was open. He leapt to his feet to find Isobel standing in the doorway, wearing only her thin linen smock.