A Knight's Temptation (40 page)

Tears swam in Leona’s eyes.

“Entirely by chance, while fulfilling a task for de Lanceau, I came upon Ward in a small inn in northern Moydenshire. The corruption had spread through his body. Feverish, weak, and having run out of money, he could no longer travel. I sent a missive to my lord, telling him I would be delayed in my return to Branton Keep, and I stayed and cared for Ward as best I could.” Aldwin tamped down rising anguish. “I was at his bedside when he died. In a letter, which I sent to your father along with the sketchbook, I detailed all that Ward had told me in his last days.”

“I never saw that letter,” Leona said. “My father told me Ward had died in battle.”

“I know.”

A sigh parted her lips. “I realize why you did not tell me about Ward before now. You thought I would be disappointed.”

“Aye. Especially when you viewed him as a hero.”

Aldwin yearned to embrace her and shoulder some of her pain. When she met his gaze, however, she smiled through the tears clinging to her lashes. “Whatever befell him, he will always be the Ward of my memories: brave, strong, and invincible.”

Aldwin smiled back. “That is how I shall remember him, too.”

Her focus dropped to their joined hands. “’Twas honorable of you to spare my feelings. You protected me . . . as a noble knight would protect his lady.”

“I guess I did.”

“Likewise, you protected me from your true opinion of my embroidery.”

Her lashes remained lowered, keeping him from reading the expression in her eyes. Yet there was warmth in her voice he hadn’t noticed before.

“Needlework is far from the most telling quality of a lady. Far more important, you are strong of will, loyal to those you love,”—his voice softened—“and . . .”

“And?” Raising her lashes, she snared him with the golden fire of her stare.

He released one of her hands, unable to stop himself from catching a honey-brown wisp of hair curling down by her cheekbone. “Irresistible.”

A blush stained her face. “Stop.” She swatted at his hand, but not forcefully enough to deter him.

“The most beautiful, irresistible lady,” he went on, “I have ever encountered.” His fingers slid down her hair to linger over her breast. “Which is why—”

Her hand rose to cup his. Longing shone in her eyes. “Kiss me.”

Lust shuddered through him.
Aye, Lioness. With such fire, you will never crave another man
. Yet on his honor as an aspiring knight, he mustn’t abandon all reason and lie with her; then he truly would be the disreputable knave Lord Ransley had claimed him to be.

With great effort, Aldwin fought the desire to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bed. “Leona, we—”

“Kiss”—she pressed his palm to her breast—“me.”

His thoughts scattered as he registered delicious warmth, plump flesh, and her hardened nipple beneath her gown.

“Lioness.” He growled and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips opened as though she starved for him. Her tongue clashed with his in a fierce, wet rhythm. Thrust. Glide. Suckle. God’s blood, how he craved her!

A shivered groan broke from her, and then her hands rammed into his hair, grasping fistfuls. Her nails scratched his scalp in a mindless frenzy that set his whole body aflame with desire.

His hand instinctively squeezed her breast tighter. A gasp wrenched from her, sucking his breath into her mouth. Rising up on tiptoes, she brushed her body against him. With the sinewy arch of her back, her breast pressed more firmly into his palm.

He growled again, a rough, carnal sound.

When he claimed her mouth once more, she eased away. She lured him, he realized through the arousal dominating his thoughts, toward her bed.

The voice of reason nagged like a chaperone. Leona wasn’t a courtesan, although she had the hungry little moans and gasps just right. She was a lord’s daughter. A woman who by her esteemed birthright deserved to be courted and—

“Aldwin,” she whispered against his mouth. She pressed kisses against his flushed skin.

He shuddered, even as her hands slid under his cloak, and then his tunic. The hot bliss of her hands . . . “H-hold,” he choked out.

She hesitated, only long enough to meet his gaze. Her cheeks flushed with anticipation, she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

“’Tis what you want,” she murmured, “to join with me.”

“More than you can imagine.” He tried to think clearly. “However—”

Her eyelids fluttered on a coy smile. “’Tis what I want, also.” Again, she squirmed against him. “Ever since the cottage, I cannot stop thinking about . . . us.”

Aldwin swallowed down a hoarse cry. He, too, had thought about them coupling. Over and over and over again, until his need for her was sated. If that was possible.

Her gaze suddenly turned solemn. “When the baron and Veronique held us prisoner in the hall, and I realized we might never have the chance to be together—”

He kissed her. “That is over now.”

“Aye, but soon, you will be returning to Branton Keep with Lord de Lanceau.”

“Leona—”

“Please. Give me this moment with you. Let us finish what we began in the cottage.” Her eyes sparked. “If for no other reason than what you forced me to endure as your captive.”

Aldwin laughed. “And what you forced
me
to endure.”

He expected her to be indignant. Instead, she winked and withdrew her fingers from his tunic. “Then we owe it to each other.”

How neatly she’d turned their discussion around to suit her desires. If only he could give her what they both wanted. But he couldn’t. Not without a betrothal between them, for as fiercely as he was tempted, he mustn’t ignore his knightly morals.

“Why do you not touch me?” she whispered.

He groaned, sensing his willpower wavering. “Lioness—”

“Am I not enough of a lady for you?”

Argh!
“Of course you are. Ah, God, Leona—”

Cloth whispered. He suddenly realized she’d taken a step backward, untied her gown, and was drawing it and her chemise over her head.

He could only stare, helpless to look away. With a muffled whisper, her garments fell to the floorboards. She stood naked before him.

Her breasts were as perfect as he’d imagined. So was her smooth belly, leading down to her curved hips and thighs. He’d never seen a more lovely woman.

She tipped her chin up. “Well?” Her voice held a glimmer of uncertainty.

He swallowed hard. “Well,” he echoed, wondering if he’d ever be able to speak a full sentence again. Fisting his hands, he fought the urge to reach out and trail his fingers over her flawless skin, to explore her curves, shadows . . .

She closed the distance between them. His embattled senses tried to resist her scent, her warmth, her smoldering stare . . .

No man could deny her. Not even a knight.

Sliding his arm around her waist, he yanked her flush against him, causing the bolts in his quiver to jostle together. “Lioness,” he said against her lips, “how you tempt me.”

He pushed his quiver from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor, followed by his cloak. Then he reached down, slid his other arm under her knees, and, being careful of his stitches, scooped her into his arms.

His conscience shrilled a reminder about chivalry. Yet while he recognized the voice of reason, she twined her fingers in his hair and smiled at him in a way that shot renewed heat through his body. He kissed her brow, then drew back the coverlet and laid her upon the bed. Her limbs fell easily, her pose welcoming. Eager.

His. As he had dreamed.

Oh, God, aye
.

He knelt above her, pushing aside the hair fallen over the side of her face. She turned her cheek into his palm, nuzzling, the soft brush of her skin painfully arousing.

And then her hands were under the hem of his tunic, reaching for the fastenings of his hose. His manhood pulsed, and he shuddered.

Obviously puzzled by his reaction, she frowned. “Do I hurt you?”

He blinked. “What? Nay.”

“Then why—”

His fingers skimmed over her bare breast, and her eyelids fluttered on a moan. “Because you give me pleasure.”

“O-oh.”

He circled her beaded nipple with his fingertip. “Understand?”

“Mmm.”

Her determined hands moved again. The fastenings of his hose yielded, and then her fingers touched him.

G-G-God above
.

He clenched his teeth, her exploration close to torture. His body shook, yearning for that glorious moment when he plunged into her. But despite her show of wantonness, he guessed she was a virgin. He’d do all within his control not to cause her pain. “Leona,” he ground out, “I cannot—”

She whimpered. “Show me. I do not know—”

“Aye, Lioness, I will.” But he was still clothed. An impatient oath bubbled inside him, for this first time, as they came to know each other’s bodies, they should both be naked.

He kissed her, catching another whimper, while he grabbed his tunic. Breaking the kiss for a moment, and taking care not to strain his wound, he pulled the garment over his head. Tilting his body sideways, he nudged aside her curious fingers and slid his hose down his legs, letting the cloth fall to the floor along with his boots.

Glancing back at her, he caught her looking over his nakedness. He grinned and then swept his hand up her thigh to the shadow between her legs.

She gasped.

He slid his fingers through her curls, coaxing her legs wider apart. Her face flushed. Her back arched against the white linen sheets. He sensed her body reaching. Opening.
Wanting
.

Urgency shivered through him.

His.

Now.

He moved over her, sliding his legs between hers to rest his body upon her. Her half-lowered lashes flickered. Anticipation tightened her features, and her breath puffed against his jaw.

“Leona,” he whispered, shaking with need. “I—”

“Please!”

Love you
.

His manhood brushed the damp entry to her body. He eased into her, a sensation so magnificent, he moaned.

“Aldwin!”

Poised above her, he steeled himself for her acknowledgment of pain. Instead, she bit her kiss-reddened bottom lip and tilted her hips to take him in farther.

“C-careful!” He didn’t want to hurt her. But before he’d voiced the whole word, her legs clamped about his lower back. With a little growl, she pushed their joined bodies tighter together.

Her maidenhood yielded, and he slid deep.

A sigh broke from her.

“Are you hurt?”

Her moist eyes flickered open, before her fingers touched his cheek. “Only a little.”

“Good.”

“Mmm,
’tis
good.”

He nibbled her mouth. “’Twill soon be
very
good.”

As her gaze turned questioning, he slowly drew back his hips and pushed forward once more. She shivered and then squirmed beneath him.

“Leona,” he breathed as he rocked against her. She moaned. Her hips flexed, coaxing him to repeat his thrust.

He bent his head, inhaled the honey-sweet scent of her sweaty skin, while he kissed her. “Pleasure?”

“Mmm,” she purred.

Her throaty answer mirrored the growl rising inside him. His body tautened, preparing to run wild with need, to race toward that release still tantalizingly out of reach.

He sank into her again. Tasted her astonished gasp. Felt her inner muscles begin to clench.

His eyes squeezed shut as he thrust. The pleasure!

He drove harder. Faster. Racing toward . . .

“Aldwin!” Her voice shattered on a shrill cry.

Helpless to hold himself back, he thrust again. Again. Until, with one last push, he leapt over the edge of conscious thought into bliss.

***

Indulging in a lazy sigh, Leona snuggled back against Aldwin and drew the bedding closer about her shoulders. His body cocooned her with his warmth and masculine scent. Until now, she’d never considered lying naked alongside a man, her body cradled by his, but this embrace was heavenly.

Lifting her right hand, she trailed it along his arm stretched upon the moonlit coverlet and marveled at the bold definition of muscle and sinew. A warrior’s physique. But he’d been so tender.

What they’d shared moments ago had been impulsive, raw, and beautiful, in ways she’d never forget. Not months from now, when the days she’d spent with him became less clear in her memory. Or even years.

Despair pinched her, and she closed her eyes to force it away. As much as she loved Aldwin, she knew their relationship could never be more than ’twas now. He wanted to be revered as one of de Lanceau’s knights, an honorable man who championed duty wherever his lord sent him. Aldwin wouldn’t want to be bound to a woman whose father had once helped wanted conspirators and failed in his responsibilities to his liege.

Moreover, as Aldwin’s colleagues had pointed out earlier, she wasn’t like other noblewomen. She couldn’t be meek, elegant, or coiffed even if she tried, and didn’t have a large dowry to compensate for her shortcomings.

His arm beneath her shifted. “Leona.”

She sighed. “Aye?”

He kissed her hair. “I hate to even speak of this—”

“Then do not.”

His laughter rumbled. “As much as I would like to stay here with you, we should return to the great hall.”

She blinked away the sting of tears. “Must we?”

His breath gusted over her cheek. Then he shifted, gently pressing upon her bare shoulder in an unspoken request for her to turn onto her back.

She obeyed, her body falling to the warmed sheets. She couldn’t meet his gaze, though. Her heart hurt too much. If only they didn’t have to part ways, but he had the soul of a noble warrior. She mustn’t hinder his destiny.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

Oh, God
. Did he realize she yearned for him, more now than before?

“Lioness.”

He caught her chin and made her look up at him. “Are you all right?”

Forcing a smile, she nodded.

Warmth glistened in his eyes that traveled over her in blatant appreciation before he kissed her. “Get dressed and come with me, before your father starts searching for you.”