Her Every Pleasure (34 page)

“I’ll always belong to you, sweet. Does it hurt?”

“Doesn’t matter. I love you.”

He closed his eyes and kissed her brow, holding back his desire with a will until she was ready.

It didn’t take long. She shrugged off the pain despite his enormous size. He had waited so long—they both had. She did not want to put either of them through another minute’s torment. All she wanted was to give herself to him completely.

Again, she let her body tell him when she was prepared for more. He was toying with her hair, which she was sure must look thoroughly untamed after two days without a brush. She kissed his cheek and then nibbled his iron jaw, where a dark scruff had begun to form, rather like the one he had worn at the farmhouse.

“More, please,” she growled in pleasure.

He flashed a roguish half smile at her quick recovery.

“My girl,” he murmured in fond pride. He settled down onto his elbows, planting them on either side of her head as he went on stroking her hair. “You’re a fighter, too, Sophia. That’s why we belong together.” His lazy smile turned sober. “I’m so lucky to have found you. Of all the farmhouses I could have leased.”

“Darling, it was fate,” she said, then drew him down to kiss her anew.

He began to love her with a slow, tender rocking. She draped her arms around his neck, her lips lingering against his jaw. His taut panting by her ear as he caressed her made her realize that he was still holding himself back.

That was the last thing she wanted.

She wrapped her legs around him, offering all she had to give to slake his starved needs. A groan whispered from his lips. He turned his head and captured her mouth in a wild kiss, rising up on his hands above her, his disciplined restraint eroding.

Yes.
Sophia welcomed his deepening strokes, his quickening pace, arching with him in fearless union.

She gritted her teeth as the pleasure-pain intensified. Her eager acquiescence gave him full permission to let go completely. He did.

He took her by storm, on the verge of hurting her but never crossing that line. Sophia dragged her trembling fingers down his iron chest, nearly sobbing with his beauty as he ravished her.

Forces, instincts as deep and ancient as the earth surged through them as their bodies joined in this desperate, needy coupling that they both had craved for so long. She braved the full brunt of his warrior power, absorbing his aggression into her love, turning it to pleasure, to release, all the while knowing he would keep her safe no matter what.

All the terror and pain of the last two days was forgotten as they reveled in each other, affirming their survival, grasping life and lust and their love for each other with both hands.

A thrilling notion trailed through her mind. She hoped he made her pregnant. Together they would restart her family line after it had been nearly obliterated.

The thought aroused her so deeply that it heightened her pleasure still more. Her senses rose to the climax he had taught her to understand that night at the farmhouse. She could feel her hunger building.

“Gabriel.”

His ragged whisper by her ear guided her closer. “Come to me, angel. Surrender.”

She gasped with bliss and looked into his eyes in innocent astonishment as pleasure crested through her; her lashes drifted downward, her body undulated slowly beneath him. The spectacular wave crashed over every inch of her body. He slammed her like the earthquakes she remembered from her childhood in Greece, the same brief, bewildering powerlessness as his passion overcame him almost simultaneously. He climaxed with a lion’s roar, arching above her in triumph as he flooded her with his seed.

Her breath heaving, Sophia gazed at him in awe.

The soul-deep delight etched upon his face in the next moment would remain imprinted on her mind forever. Oh, the pride that welled in her to know that she had won him, this marvelous beast.

The pleasure seemed to drip from him, every sound from his lips, every flinch of delight, the flicker of total release in his eyes, until he was emptied.

“Come here,” she murmured, pulling him down atop her and holding him, while he struggled to retrieve his wits after the explosion of pleasure.

“Oh, God,” he said breathlessly after the fact.

Sophia let out a dazzled, weary laugh. “I love you.”

“Love you. I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he panted. “It’s been—a long time.”

“I adored it. I adore you.”

“You all right?”

“I’m in heaven. Get some rest, Colonel.”

He let out a growly sort of sigh full of satisfaction and dragged one last caress down her hair to her shoulder. Then he closed his eyes and obeyed her order.

With his slackening arousal still nestled peacefully inside of her, she held him, slowly caressing his bare back, running her fingers through his black hair. His lips rested softly against her neck, the fierce panting gradually turning to slow, steady breaths.

At last, her warrior was in a state of deep and very long-needed relaxation. For her part, she was too happy to sleep.

“I love you,” she whispered again. She couldn’t stop saying it now that she was allowed to.

“Mm,” he answered in a deep purr, just enough of a reply to let her know that he was still slightly awake, enough to spring to her defense again if need be, she thought with a tender smile.

His big body lay atop her as though he were made of lead, but she did not mind at all. They were together now as they should have been from the start, she thought, and finally, the world made sense again.

As she lifted her gaze, watching the shadows from their low fire play over the rock formations, she spied some of the ancient cave paintings that were said to exist all throughout the Dordogne.

Nobody really knew who had made them or just how old they were, but as she peered up at the childlike drawing of a bull and other animals running across the top of the cave and disappearing into the shadows and the memory of time, their message echoed to her over the innumerable ages. They hailed back to a time long before anyone had dreamed up the divine right of kings or notions of empire. In that age so shortly after Eden, kings were not decided by bloodlines, she mused, but by who was the strongest, who was the bravest, who was the smartest, and the best leader.

People would have happily followed whoever had the greatest chances of keeping the whole group alive.

Dawning recognition stole over Sophia’s face as she held Gabriel tenderly and pressed another soft kiss to his looming shoulder. Her mind reeled and her heart soared, for she understood better than he did in that moment why he had been spared, sent back from the brink of death. What his true destiny had been all along.

My king.

CHAPTER
         TWENTY         

P
rincess Sophia of Kavros.

Her Royal Highness.

HRH

Too beautiful for words, and Gabriel could not believe he had deflowered her. Still wonderstruck, he watched her sleep in tender silence as the new day dawned.

Making love to her had been the most sacred and glorious thing he had ever done—and possibly the most depraved.

After all of her losses, it was mad of him, perhaps even cruel to risk getting so much closer when he still had the outcast Janissary army to vanquish and might well not survive. Deep down, ever since he had nearly lost his life, he had sensed that a fate like this was probably waiting for him not far down the line.

If death claimed him in the coming battle, then Gabriel had to face the fact that he, who loved her best, would have ended up wounding Sophia worse than the enemy could ever hope to do. Bereaving her just when she most needed to be strong for her people.

Ah, but she would never have forgiven him if he had denied her last night. Nor
could
he. Even he wasn’t that strong. He could no longer fight his feelings for her, the sheer overwhelming love. His heart welled even now as he gazed at her in sweet repose. Her silky midnight spiral curls fanned out around her while she slept trustfully beside him, her hand curled into a loose fist beneath her chin.

With a lump in his throat at how dear she was to him and how close he had come to losing her to those fiendish bastards, he could not bring himself to believe that their blessed act of love last night had been wrong.

But whether it had been sin or pure redemption, it was what they both had wanted. Today, he was still reeling with such a strange blend of happiness and ferocity over the lingering threat to her. Watching her here with him, safe and sound, still dazed by the poetry of her body beneath his last night, Gabriel made up his mind to shelter her from any additional ugliness until they reached the coast.

There was no need to tell her yet about the full scope of the threat from the Order of the Scorpion. She had already been through enough for now and would need a few days to recover before he told her just how bad it was.

He only hoped that the Royal Marines stationed on Kavros would be ready for action by the time his scouts returned with the location of the Janissaries’ hideaway.

When Sophia began to stir, he thrust his ominous thoughts out of his head and focused his mind on his plans for the lady. It wouldn’t take long to reach the Mediterranean, but he fully intended to spend the next two days attending to her every pleasure.

God knew, just watching her was quite the delight of his life. Her eyelashes fluttered with waking; Gabriel looked on in soft joy, waiting to say good morning.

Her dark eyes suddenly flicked open, not fully focused yet. “Oh, God, was I snoring?” she blurted out with a start.

He flashed a smile at the unexpected greeting and lied, “Like a drunken sailor.”

“Oh—I’m so embarrassed!”

“I’m teasing you,” he chided, laughing as he grabbed her and rolled her playfully atop him. “Princesses don’t snore, Highness. Everybody knows that.”

“Well, I’m not a princess today. Good morning, my love.” She rumpled his hair with a reproachful pout for his jest and then hugged him back; he wrapped his arms around her. The way she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck simply turned him inside out. “Oh, I was so afraid to wake up and find this had all been naught but a beautiful dream. Is it real?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he whispered, caressing her naked waist. For a long moment, he shut his eyes and reveled in the feel of her slim, lovely body atop him.

He was still ready to protect her with every fiber of his being, yet he found himself—most unusually—wanting to shirk his duty and explore this love unlike any he had ever known. Escape their normal roles, as they had at the farmhouse, and spend time together simply as a man and a woman. It would probably be their last chance.

And with her soft, lithe loveliness on top of him, once again, Gabriel found himself getting hard.

Damn, but the sense of death breathing down his neck seemed to make him uncontrollably horny. As if he must grab onto life at its very core while he still could.

Oh, give Sophia a break,
he ordered his libido, doing his best mentally to hold himself in check, as he had done for so long with her. But he loved her so much.

Whatever she wanted…

With his elbow resting on the bedroll, he silently put his hand up; she mirrored it, touching his palm. Their fingers linked, then he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hungry?” he asked, distracting himself from those warm, silken thighs around him.

“Starved. What supplies did you bring for us, Colonel? Hardtack?”

“Hardtack? Mademoiselle, you’re in France. No hardtack for you. Let’s go and find some proper food.”

She lifted her head and frowned at him. “Are you so eager to leave our little cave already?”

“Well, it is a cave,” he said. “They have hotels.”

“I love our cave. It’s very special to me.”

“Yes, but la belle France awaits, chérie.” He kissed her precious hand. “It is the one true country of all lovers, don’t you know.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “My stern soldier, are you going to turn out to be a romantic after all this time?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he whispered sweetly.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” she said archly. “I have never approved of those wild-eyed poetic types.”

He laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him and wouldn’t let go. Nor would she let him get up. He could not pry her off him to get the day started. Not that he tried very hard.

“Gabriel?” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his neck as she held him.

He furrowed his brow at the note of anxiety in her voice. “What’s the matter, darling?”

“What if we get to Kavros and my people decide they don’t like me? What if no one will listen to me? I’m only a girl. Honestly, would you tell me if you thought I had bitten off more than I could chew?”

“You’d be a fool if you weren’t scared,” he whispered tenderly. “But don’t worry. They will fall in love with you, believe me.”

She lifted her head and favored him a grateful smile. “You are so kind to me.”

“I love you,” he explained.

Her smile grew, beaming like the sun. “Enough of my gloom! I don’t want to talk about anything serious today!”

“No, it is forbidden,” he assented.

“Gabriel?” she called his name after a moment in a bewitching little singsong.

He arched a brow at the flirtatious sparkle in her eyes. “What is it, sweet?”

When she crooked her finger at him, he quivered.

The pretty smile she gave him said it all.

He let her pull him back down gently into their bed of furs with a randy laugh and made love to her until midmorning.

Her first time had been an experience of fierce and allconsuming passion, but her second was playful, joyous, and exploratory. Gabriel, her patient teacher, made her giddy with the lesson. Her third time—and fourth—came later that afternoon after they had strolled into the livery hotel at the next quaint little medieval
bastide
town they came to.

Arriving mainly to change horses, they ended up getting a room for the night.

Gabriel looked at her wryly when she gave their names to the landlord as Mr. and Mrs. King.

The French country inn was a cozy haven full of charm and made them welcome. While servants filled the bathing tub in their room, Sophia ordered supper for them from the kitchens. She could hardly wait to see what delicacies of the Perigord might appear when their meal was ready. Gabriel, meanwhile, sent a message to Lord Griffith that she was safe, then spoke to the innkeeper’s wife about the horses they’d need from the livery on the morrow, and also where they could procure some fresh clothes.

Sophia could understand him wanting to be rid of the bloodstained black clothes he had worn on the mountain. She, too, was eager to leave behind the reminders of her abduction.

The landlady sent her eldest daughter off to see what ready-made pieces could be had from the local shops. “My firstborn,” she declared, “has an eye for the mode of fashion.”

The young woman came back a long while later with an armful of smart French clothes for them both, new underthings and three muslin day gowns for Sophia to choose from. For Gabriel, she had found a gentlemanly ensemble, a linen shirt of creamy white, tan trousers, and a plum-colored morning coat of fine wool.

The fit was rather tight, large as he was, but he decided to take it. The French girl looked love-struck by the dashing Englishman and offered to alter it for him by morning. He told her to do as she pleased.

“Are you sending the bill to the Foreign Office?” Sophia murmured as Gabriel wrote out a draught for the items.

“No, I am sending it on to my brother,” he informed her.

“To Derek? Why?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I signed over my whole inheritance to him some time ago. I might have been very rich if I hadn’t.”

“You did?” she echoed, amazed. “Why?”

“I was feeling generous,” he said dryly.

Laughing, she put her arms around him dotingly as they walked toward the stairs leading up to the upper floors where the guest rooms awaited. “You are so wonderfully strange,” she teased, recalling how she had found him out in the middle of nowhere living like some wild, brooding hermit.

At any rate, the farm was long behind them now. Upstairs, they stepped into their room, a soft-toned and cheerful retreat with a view of the garden. Under a simple brass chandelier with all four candles shining, thick plaster walls glowed a golden cream hue, with muted red-and-white toile draping the windows and the fourpost bed. An oil painting hung above the waist-high chest of drawers, where glasses and a few bottles of the superb local libations had already been sent up. A cozy armchair was set against the wall. Beyond the bed, a folded wooden screen stood in the distant corner; behind it, the bathing tub awaited, filled and steaming, towels and soaps on hand. All of their needs had been anticipated.

Sophia found the place enchanting. But with their new clothes paid for, they had no intention of putting them on. Instead, they shut the door to their room and undressed, bathing together, washing each other with the fine soap scented with homegrown lavender. They made a holiday of it, hands sliding over wet, sudsy skin as they scrubbed each other clean with a slip and splash, tickle and taste, each damp caress leading to some new delightful discovery, new territory to claim, arms, legs, back, belly.

They were completely entranced with each other. Gabriel nuzzled her bent knee while she trailed her finger down the center of his face, down his handsome nose, over his lips, and down his angular chin. He captured her foot under the water, cleaned it carefully, rinsed it thoroughly, then lifted it, dripping. He kissed it several times. She watched with her temperature rising.

She knew he was up to something when he made her turn around. At first, he soaped her back for her, but his true, wicked intentions soon became clear as his hands began roaming lower. Before long, he had pushed her up onto her knees and bent her slightly over the edge of the tub, kneeling behind her as he took her, water sloshing everywhere.

Sophia groaned with pleasure; he lost patience with the cramped quarters of the tub and ordered her over to the bed. Shaking, she obeyed. Both of them still damp and slippery, he stood between her legs at the side of the bed and had his lecherous way with her, cupping the cheeks of her backside in his hands. Sophia lay back in delirious pleasure, basking in his deep penetration.

When she dragged her eyes open and gazed at his towering physique, his hard face taut with passion, she was sure there was no one like him in all the world.

He cupped her legs to his waist as he leaned down and kissed her like he would devour her. She hooked her heels behind his muscled buttocks and let him carry them both away to a new floodtide of bliss.