To Tempt a Knight (13 page)

“Better?” he asked.

“Aye.” Her voice hitched.

Moving her arms for her, he lifted the sword and then brought her arms down in a slow, controlled movement. “Feel the motion. Make the sword an extension of your arm. Extend your stroke all the way out to the tip of the blade. Let the sword do the work.”

She swallowed at the feel of his hard body against the softness of her own.

“I’ll move you through the basic motions. Guard. Slice. Thrust. Upward cut. Downward cut. Parry. Keep the balance of your weight on the balls of your feet.”

She listened as he moved, took each movement into herself, feeling as though they were dancing, not fighting.

“That’s it. Let your body flow.” He leaned more intimately against her. Her heart beat harder. “Get in close.
Stay inside.” Then he changed his motions, moving in tight irregular steps. “Confuse your opponent. Focus. Stay balanced.”

Siobhan followed his every movement. The two of them flowed together as the sword came up, then down, blocking their imaginary opponent. Behind her, she could feel his breath against her ear—short, sharp bursts that changed with the intensity of their swordplay. His body brushed against hers, then retreated. She tried to concentrate on the sword in her hand.

The long, hard muscles of his body pressed against her back, and the heat of him enveloped her. She swayed back against him, overwhelmed by her own desire. This slow, torturous seduction meant nothing to him. If it did, how could he continue to stand, when her own legs felt as though they would dissolve beneath her?

She gazed at him over her shoulder. “No more. Please.”

“Does your head pain you?” His movements ceased. “Forgive me. I lost myself.”

“Aye.” She lied. An aching emptiness swamped her as he moved away. She clenched her teeth, fighting her yearning to pull him back.
Lost.
She was the one who felt lost without him.

A primitive jolt of desire rocked William as he gazed down at Siobhan.
Sweet Mary
, he groaned silently. The blood pounded in his veins and quickened in his loins to a point he had never experienced before. He’d lost himself, all right. He’d lost himself body and soul in the feel of her body next to his.

Firelight flickered across her red hair and gilded the softness of her alabaster skin. When had the sun vanished from the sky? He hadn’t noticed light or dark, nothing but the woman who stood not two paces from him.

He wanted to reach out to her, to shatter the tension between them and end this madness. Surely, once he tasted her, his senses would return to normal. Then they could move forward with their journey.

His thoughts stopped him.
You’re a monk. And you have other responsibilities.
William clenched his jaw, fighting desire. He had dedicated himself to something other than the concerns of mortal men.

He felt
very
mortal at the moment, and vulnerable to the desires of men. Suddenly, the question he usually asked himself in times of great fear sprung forward in his mind.
What’s the worst that can happen?

William clung to the question like a lifeline. The worst might be that he’d want more than a sampling of what Siobhan had to offer. The worst might be that he’d be
forced to recant his vows, to leave the Templars, to take up a secular life. Or worse yet, that God might turn his back on him.

Never had he been so tempted to turn away from his vows or from God than in this moment. He took a step closer, reminding himself that God would forgive his failings. He forgave all men their imperfections. William swallowed roughly as he stepped closer. Her delicate fragrance filled his senses. Forbidden or not, he wanted her.

“Siobhan,” he whispered her name. He could feel the warmth of her against his chest, yet they did not touch. He lifted the end of her damp plait where it hung across her shoulder and curled it around his finger. Slowly, slowly, he increased the pull. Not hurting her, simply drawing her forward until her hips touched his.

He toyed with the single strand of hair at the end of her plait that she’d used to hold the whole tight. His thumb brushed the end backward and forward until it gave under his gentle caress.

He could not stop the low groan when the ends of her hair came free. He worked the plait apart, higher and higher. “You should let your hair go free.” He kept his manner light, but he couldn’t hide the desire that deepened his tone.

A shiver moved through her as he continued. With each fraction of an inch that he moved up the length of her hair, unplaiting it, he drew her closer. Her breasts brushed his chest. He brought the fall of her hair up to his mouth. He brushed the silken texture against his lips.

He let it fall back against her neck and followed it down, pressing the softest of kisses to her hair and the flesh of her shoulder beneath. Her skin was exquisitely soft, and he lingered there, unable to pull away.

She shuddered at the contact. “William, we should not,” she whispered.

“I know.” His body pulsed and ached as he shifted his gaze from her to the pool beyond them. Mist crept across the moonlit waters and a whisper of a gentle breeze chased through the silver-backed leaves overhead. “Everything in my head says nay, but you here in my arms feels right.” His voice was shaking, and shivers ran down his limbs.

She pulled him closer.

He buried his face in her hair and drew in the soft scent of heather that lingered there. He felt the curve of her body against his. His body filled with longing, with the need not just to take her, but to possess her as his own.

She wanted that, too. He could feel it in the beat of her heart against his chest, the ripening of her breasts where they pressed against him.

Being near her without possessing her was pure hell. The emotions that drove them to this moment, the force of their passion, was a gift given freely by the Maker above. They had every right to explore that gift. He was only a man, and man was flawed. He knew his sins. He knew what his judgment would be. And he found he didn’t care what it cost him.

He wanted to lose himself, to put an end to his self-imposed isolation with the woman in his arms. He had always been alone, had wanted to be alone, until she came along. He held her tighter. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he breathed as the flame inside him burned ever brighter. He would use that fire within to incite her, to please her, and would make a world where only he and Siobhan existed as they became one flesh.

Siobhan felt William’s body tighten, stir against her. He bade her to tell him to stop. His lips found her neck, the sensitive curve of her shoulder, the base of her throat.

She longed to say “Stop” as each whisper of sensation
shivered across her flesh. She longed to stop as he trailed his fingers over her arms and down her thighs, gently caressing the hidden flesh beneath. She meant to stop him as he traced lines of hot delight down her chin, across the rise of her breast, then back to her lips, devouring her in a deep and passionate kiss.

So much was at stake—her heart, her virginity, her future. But even those things didn’t pull her back. She didn’t want to stop him. She couldn’t stop herself. On a groan of capitulation, she leaned into his kiss.

His fingers found the ties of her gown and worked them loose until her dress fell to her ankles and she stood before him in only the thinnest layer of linen.

Despite her state of undress, she had never been warmer. The heat came from within in unquenchable waves of desire.
Desire.
That’s what had taken possession of her senses and heralded her course down this darkened path.

She reached for his tunic. Her fingers stalled on the laces at the front.

He stared down at her, the line of his cheeks hollow with tension. “Yes?” he asked, the word guttural.

“Aye.” She could barely answer past the thickness in her throat. Her fingers worked the lacings of his tunic. When she reached his mail, she fumbled with the ties.

“Allow me.” His fingers quickly unfastened his scabbard and sword, then tossed them down. His mail, aketon, breeches and boots followed. “Take off your shift,” he said in ragged tones. “I don’t trust myself not to tear it from you.”

His words delighted and terrified. She stared at him uncertainly. He looked fierce, almost tormented.

“Hurry.” He stripped off his braies and tossed them to the ground, his gaze never leaving her face. “No second thoughts?” He stood naked before her. Starkly, boldly aroused. “I couldn’t take it if you had regrets now.”

She stared at the man before her. Thick blond hair covered his chest. She followed the V downward, across his flat abdomen, to the wounds that laced his torso, particularly a dark purple wound in his side, to the thick nest of hair surrounding his rampant arousal. Siobhan swallowed and moistened her lips. She should have had reservations about what was to come, but she didn’t. It felt right being here with William like this—completely and utterly right. “No second thoughts.”

He reached for her, pulling her tight against his bare flesh. Her naked breasts pressed against the coarse hair of his chest. The sensation was strangely seductive against the smoothness of her flesh.

He held her close and pressed a gentle kiss above the wound at her brow. “Does it pain you much?”

“Nothing pains me at the moment.”

With a chuckle, he bent to kiss her neck as he slid his left hand down her abdomen to the thatch of curls surrounding her womanhood. His lips moved farther down, to the top of her breast, to her nipple. With his tongue, he circled her breast in smaller and smaller circles until he laved her nipple in warmth.

Just when she had started to adjust to the new sensation, his hand moved lower still. Slowly, he rubbed back and forth against the juncture of her thighs, igniting a strange burning need.

Siobhan gasped and tangled her fingers in his hair. She swayed helplessly as sensation after bewildering sensation tore through her.

She brought her hands down to caress the corded muscle of his arms, his back, clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing in her world. He was all iron muscles and brawny power. And in this moment, he was hers.

The thought made her bold as she allowed her fingers to explore the hard planes of his chest, his abdomen and
farther down, until she came to his sex. Boldly, she ran two fingers along its length. He released a guttural sound as his manhood pulsed in response.

He pulled her down to the soft bed of moss along the shoreline. Siobhan was vaguely conscious of the heady scent of earth, of the moonlight edging William’s golden hair with silver as he rose above her.

“What a treasure you are.” He pressed her back against the earth and spread her thighs, his palms running feverishly up and down her flesh, feeling every nuance and texture of her. His forefinger and middle fingers touched her, probed her, sank deep.

She cried out. The muscles of her stomach clenched, convulsed, as his fingers began a slow rhythm. Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t get her breath. Her hands clutched his shoulders, careful not to press against his healing wound.

She could hear the harsh sound of his breathing above her as the rhythm of his stroking changed, becoming faster, steadier, stronger. A coil of sensation tightened inside her, growing in intensity, as he plunged into the depths and texture of her very core.

Heat poured through her in a pure stream of desire. She gasped, arched against his fingers as shivers of pleasure pulsed through her. She cried out as wave after wave rippled through her body. His fingers left her as he gripped her thighs and moved between her legs.

She drew a sharp breath, wanting more, but not quite knowing what it was she longed for.

“Hold steady,” he said as though reading her thoughts. “This might hurt just a bit.” His arousal nudged against the center of her womanhood. He lunged forward.

Her entire body tensed as his presence in her body sent waves of pain through her. White-hot pain. She gasped.

“It’s done,” he said, covering her lips with the softest
kiss, a warm caress meant to heal. The caress did just that. The pain eased. She became aware of something more. Fullness. She lifted her hips, trying to take more of him.

A shudder went through him as he gazed down at her, his eyes shimmering with pure, primal pleasure. He drew all the way out and slowly entered her again. She could feel the soft prickle of the hair around his sex against her own. The muscles of her stomach clenched. “Don’t stop.”

“Never entered my mind.” His voice sounded like a low growl. He drew back and plunged deep, thrusting and thrusting again.

She arched up, meeting each thrust, pulling him deeper inside her. He responded with even more urgency, more desperation. As though he wanted to make them one with every thrust.

His rhythm was wild, hard, driven by hunger and passion. Her head thrashed back and forth in the moss as she attempted to keep from crying out with the intensity of the raw emotion shuddering through every muscle and nerve of her body. He was trembling, too, she realized dimly, his breathing harsh, his chest moving in and out as though he were running.

He cried out and threw back his head, his strong neck arching, his body going rigid as a shiver passed through him and into her as deep as life itself.

She held him tight as her own pleasure exploded in a fiery release that left her stunned and weak.

He collapsed on top of her, his big body not heavy, only comforting, as he nestled his head in the crook of her neck. He lay against her, still intimately entwined with her, his flesh hot, his breathing heavy.

A shudder ran through her. What had just happened between them? She had never experienced anything so powerful, so all-consuming before in her life.

William’s breathing gradually steadied, slowed. “I lost control.” His voice was still ragged, uneven.

“We both lost control,” she said, looking up at him.

The tension had left his face. He looked relaxed, content. “It’s been so long since I let myself even dare—” He cut his own words off as he rolled to his side, ending their intimate contact. His hands moved to her breasts, cupping them gently in his hands as though he weren’t ready to release her altogether.

She wasn’t ready for the magic of the night to end either. Everything since they’d come to the waterfall had been perfect. A dream. Past experience told her that dreams had to end eventually.

But not right now. She longed to see the smile in William’s eyes once more. “Do you trust me?” she asked sitting up.

“Aye.” He sat up as well.

She extended her hand. “Prove it.”

William laughed, the sound deep and lusty, as he put his hand in hers.

Siobhan stood, pulling him up beside her. She watched in fascination as a slight dimple appeared in William’s left cheek. In the glow of the fire, his eyes sparkled and color tinged his face, drawing attention to the glossy thickness of his hair and the roguish shadow of stubble on his jaw, which accentuated the cleft in his chin. “What did you have in mind?”

She smiled. With a jerk on his hand, she tugged him into the water. The two of them fell backward with a splash into the liquid coolness. Mingled cries of delight and surprise filled the night air.

“You minx.” William roared with laughter. “See if I trust you again.”

He swam up behind her and pulled her to his chest.
Despite the coolness of the water, warmth enveloped her. He kissed the top of her shoulder. In the next instant, he lifted her slightly and tossed her into the deeper water. With a squeal, she swam back to him and dunked his head. They splashed and frolicked back and forth as carefree as children, until William held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “You win,
ma chère
,” he laughed, heading for the shore. “Let us rest and regain our strength for tomorrow’s climb.” At their campsite, he picked up her cloak, then held it out to her as she rose from the water.

“My thanks,” she said as he enfolded her in the soft warmth of the fur.