His Captive (16 page)
Authors: Diana J. Cosby
The fervor of her response poured through him. Impatient to touch the cool silk of her skin, he caught the fabric near her neck and pulled it down. Her magnificent breasts spilled free. His body hardened to a tremendous ache. Alexander cupped his hand over one firm swell and leaned down to lave the tender flesh.
Nichola’s eyes glazed with passion.
The dream of sliding into her willing warmth overrode his cautions, his regrets. Here. Now. The passion he no longer could deny would consume them both. And he would let it.
Would die without it.
Alexander teased her sensitized flesh, slow circles until her body began to shake. He caught her nipple into his mouth and suckled, her mews of pleasure urging him on.
“How you want me leaves me humbled,” he murmured against her skin. Needing to touch her everywhere, to taste her, he laved a slow trail down the flat of her stomach, inhaling her woman’s scent.
He moved his hand to her thigh. Her tender flesh quivered beneath his touch. If possible, he grew harder. However much he wished to strip her and drive deep into her, Alexander kept his pace slow. This time, her first time, he would make love to her with exquisite passion.
Alexander stroked her intimate place again, and Nichola cried out from the pleasure of his touch as his finger caressed her over and again, leaving her shaking, wanting, helpless but to let him take. And if this was a sin, at this moment, she couldn’t sort out right from wrong.
With fractured movements, she caught the edge of her gown. She tugged it downward, needing to free herself from the cumbersome garment. Agile fingers helped her. In seconds, he tossed the garment to the side. Before she could draw in a breath, his mouth begun to feast on the other breast while his fingers slid across her dewy warmth.
Delicious waves of heat surged through her body. “Alexander.” Her gasp echoed with wanton release, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was touching her, her body burning with an unstoppable need that only he could fulfill.
The pads of his fingers slid downward, along her thigh.
“Alexander,” she whispered.
Cobalt eyes lifted to hers, hot, raw with sensual promise. “As my lady wishes.” His fingers slid into her warmth. At her gasp of pleasure, he covered her mouth. With exquisite torture, he slowly began to move his fingers within her. He claimed her every cry, her body’s trembles as a slow pressure began to build until it was if she’d burst.
He moved to her neck, his tongue doing magical things to her body, trampling the cautious part of her that is hesitant to allow such intimacy.
Alexander lifted his head, his gaze focused on her with a penetrating stare. “I am going to watch you as you are pleasured. Hear your scream as you fall over the edge.” He increased the pace of his intimate caresses.
She twisted, her body’s reactions beyond her control.
“And do you want me, lass? With how wet you are for me, I think you do.”
She couldn’t speak if her life depended on it. A predatory smile curved his mouth, like a wolf ready to devour its prey. And thankfully, she was his feast.
“That’s a lass,” he said as her mind tumbled in a frenzied state. Then his mouth, for the love of Mary, his mouth caught her nipple and began to suck, his tongue flicking over the sensitized bud mimicking his finger’s action.
Steeped in him, his scent, his taste on her lips, her body began to tremble uncontrollably. Reckless, helpless, she now arched to meet each stroke of his hand, the sweet joining that beckoned with a promise of something grand.
Then the world began to slip away toward a wondrous ache. “Alexander!”
His fingers worked her with relentless fervor as his greedy mouth continued to take, to miraculously destroy.
Her body quaked. A mind-numbing, sensual haze engulfed her mind as if on the precipice to something grand. “I—I—”
“The roebuck ran this way,” a deep male voice yelled nearby.
Chapter Twelve
Sensitized beyond belief and shaking with unspent pressure pulsing through her body, Nichola pushed up on her elbows. The breeze scraped across her skin with a pleasurable ache. She turned toward the voice. “Someone is nearby!”
“Shhh,” he whispered.
“I know my arrow hit the roebuck in the chest. Look around. It should be nearby,” another man yelled, from farther away.
Embarrassed, she gazed to where Alexander’s finger had stilled within her, the pressure inside her making her want to scream. Awareness of what they’d done, what she’d allowed him to do swamped her. Worse, even now, with shame washing through her, she wanted him.
Nichola pulled free of his imitate touch and tugged her gown against her body with shaky hands. “What if we are caught?”
“We will not be.” Alexander cursed as he helped her don her gown. He surveyed the woods. “We will go to my chamber.”
“No—I—this.” She looked away. “It is wrong.” However much she wanted him, with her body aching for him to finish what he’d begun, she couldn’t allow further intimacy between them.
He caught her chin in his hand with a tenderness that made her ache. “No, Nichola,” he said, his eyes still storming with unspent passion. “We have but begun.”
Ashamed, she tried to break free.
Alexander’s hold remained gentle yet firm, his gaze relentless. “With you trembling from my touch, tell me you do not want me.”
His deep, sensual voice sent another wave of desire rolling through her body.
He drew her palm up and stroked his tongue across the soft center; she shuddered in response. “Tell me.”
“I cannot.” But Mary help her, she wanted to. And to beg him to lay her down upon the leaf-strewn ground and finish what he’d begun, bringing her much needed relief.
The pulse at the base of his neck throbbed in an erratic beat. He remained still. A testament to his control. “I am sorry to leave your body aching with the wanting. It would not be how I would be choosing.” A stick snapped nearby. He glared toward the sound, then he turned back to her. “For now we have no choice.”
Heat crept up her face as he spoke with accuracy of her body’s distress. Never had she experienced such turmoil, a sense of floating between some kind of a half heaven, half hell, with promises of something wondrous.
No, it wasn’t wondrous, it was reprehensible. She’d almost given Alexander her virginity.
In the forest, footsteps crunching on leaves echoed closer.
Alexander cursed, took her hand, and began to walk toward Lochshire Castle, saving her from the necessity of a response.
Unsure how to undo the intimacy she’d allowed, she remained silent. As much as she wanted him, her innocence would be given to the man she would one day marry. To the man she loved.
A shake of a thick-fir limb was her only warning before a man stepped out from behind the foliage in front of her. She almost screamed, then recognized Alexander’s sinfully handsome brother, Duncan, carrying a bow.
He spotted them and halted. His brow raised. Then, a knowing smile blazed across Duncan’s face.
Nichola’s face grew warmer, the waves of desire still pulsing through dredging her guilt deeper.
Duncan winked at Alexander. “I see you are out on a hunt of your own.”
“Leave us,” Alexander ordered. Ice coated his words.
“At least allow me a slice of dignity and release me,” she hissed.
His hold tightened.
“Duncan,” a deep male voice called out. “Where in blazes are you?”
Mischief danced in Duncan’s eyes. “Over here, Patrik. With Alexander.”
“Alexander?” Brush rattled. A muted curse. Patrik stepped into the clearing. “What is Alexander . . .” His gaze landed on Nichola. He halted. Lines of anger ripped through his face. Cold. Hard. Edged with hatred.
Fear cut through her. She tensed.
Alexander drew her closer to his side, his body partially shielding her from his brothers.
Why was Patrik angry at her? From their brief interaction since her arrival, he’d addressed her with polite deference. Now he glared at her as if she were a rabid animal to be destroyed.
Ignorant of the silent battle between Alexander and Patrik, Duncan crossed his arms over his chest with a satisfied grin. “He was edgier than a wounded boar this morning. But understandably, his duties to care for his prisoner would challenge the stoutest man.”
Patrik spread his legs in a warrior’s stance, hazel eyes blazing with defiance. “Aye, it is a demanding task to seduce the enemy,” he said, the quiet delivery in stark contrast to the cold attack.
“It would heed you and Duncan well to continue with the hunt,” Alexander warned.
Patrik didn’t budge. “It is a mistake to let this to go further. You are allowing your desire for the lass to cloud your judgment.”
The scar on Alexander’s jaw tightened. “My decisions are not yours to censure.”
“When it comes to decisions that affect the rebels, it is,” Patrik replied.
“Be gone,” Alexander ordered.
“Who are you angry at?” Patrik pressed. “Me for watching over the rebels’ concerns or yourself for losing your perspective of what is important?” He scanned the surrounding forest with contempt. “What? No personal maid to ensure propriety? Or . . . was propriety with the baron’s sister ever your intent?”
The blood drained from Nichola’s face. He all but called her a whore.
Alexander drew to his full height. “Apologize.”
Patrik glared at her, his look of pure venom. “My lady, accept my deepest apologies for any disparaging remarks toward your person.” Though given, fury resonated in his words. And insincerity.
Duncan strode between the two, his face taut. “Patrik, it is a hunt we are on. Leave the lass to Alexander.” He gave her an understanding wink.
Nichola silently thanked Duncan’s lighthearted intervention. Both Alexander and Patrik visibly relaxed.
“Aye,” Patrik finally said. “Let us be on our way.” Without a word, he spun on his heel and stalked into the cover of the forest.
Lifting his bow to his side, Duncan ran after him. Twigs snapped as they disappeared back into the forest.
The last of the tension in Alexander’s body fled, but Nichola couldn’t stop from shaking. Alexander and Patrik had almost come to blows. Mayhap he was used to Patrik’s temper, but it disturbed her. She sensed that whatever Patrik’s reason, she’d earned a dangerous enemy this day.
Alexander turned to face her, his expression grim. “I apologize for Patrik’s harsh words.” He took her hand. “As I told you before, Patrik came to live with us after his family was killed. What I did not explain was that they were butchered by English troops. Though anger guides him, it does not forgive his rude behavior.”
Shaken, she understood. Patrik would detest anyone English. Right or wrong, with his hate entrenched deep in his soul, he would see any affection shared between her and Alexander as tainted.
“It is past,” she said, her words surprisingly calm. If only she believed that was true. Until she departed, she would avoid Patrik. A disturbing thought came to mind. At least Patrik was honest in his feelings toward her. How many within Lochshire Castle nourished the same hatred?
Alexander drew her into his embrace and cradled her body against his. She leaned into his warmth. “I would never allow my brother, nor any other to harm you.”
“I know.” But Alexander couldn’t always be there to protect her. Her heart ached as she thought of leaving him, but she wasn’t safe here. The sooner she left the better.
Slowly, embraced against his powerful frame, she relaxed. The soft chatter of the birds overhead threaded with the soft whisper of the wind.
Her body stirred with awareness, more so as his body was hardening against her softness. Nichola searched his face.
Desire flared in his eyes, a familiar look that singed her every nerve. She drowned beneath his blatant stare, overwhelmed with the need he made her feel.
With devastating slowness, he pressed a kiss upon her lips. The tenderness of his touch swept her into his heat. Her worries of moments before faded. She moaned as his tongue teased hers; dueled, tangled until she trembled. Heat stroked her body, flames of desire that burned her with its luxurious heat. It would be so easy to give herself to him now, but this wasn’t her life. And never would be.
Still trembling from wanting him, she pulled away. “What we did before—I—”
“Do not.”
“What, speak of what is proper?” she demanded, nerves backing her words. Nichola pressed forward, afraid if she didn’t push him away, he would claim her mouth again. Afraid if he tried to make love, this time she wouldn’t stop him.
“I cannot deny that I want you. I do, more than I would ever want to admit. But Patrik’s words are those of truth. I am your enemy. What we did is forbidden.”
His eyes narrowed.
Her heart pounded as he stared down at her. His sheer size alone guaranteed if he chose, he could take her.
As if a stranger, Alexander’s face grew shuttered. He released her and stepped away from her. “It is time to return to the castle.”
She watched Alexander struggle with his emotions, those in direct conflict to what duty demanded, but the coldness of his words after their passionate kiss still hurt. They’d almost made love. Yet, he seemed to be able to shut that out. If she could, she would do the same.
The soft pad of their footsteps echoed between them as they walked. But with every step they took, she sensed him pulling farther away.
A short while later, they reached the gatehouse. Nichola waited for him to guide her toward the keep and return her to her chamber. Instead, when they entered the courtyard, he halted and turned to her.
“You will be hungry.”
She shook her head, too upset to eat. “No, I—”
“It is not a question.” He led her to the kitchen where he procured a flask of wine and some bread and cheese. Alexander guided her up the tower to the wall walk. He halted before an embrasure overlooking the loch.
Wind cascaded through the narrowed slot, fresh with the scent of water. At the edge of the western sky, silvery tipped clouds slipped into view.
He broke off the end of a loaf of freshly baked bread and handed it to her.
Unsure of his motives, she hesitated to accept the fare. “Why have you brought me here?” Nerves quivered in her voice.
“Because, at the moment, you need a friend.”
On a quiet exhale, she accepted the bread. Of all of the answers he might have given, she’d not expected this one.
A friend.
Alexander’s loyalty was a trait to admire. His passion, zest for life, was an infectious mix, but building a friendship with him would be dangerous. To allow such a trust between them would only invite further heartache when she left.
Aching inside, she turned and let the wind brush against her face. “Why would you offer such when my stay here will be brief? It would be a mistake.”
His gaze assessed her. “Why?”
“Given the fact of my abduction and that our countries are at war, do you believe such a bond could exist?” When she looked into his cobalt eyes and witnessed the sincerity there, she wanted the impossible.
“On the border, where upheaval is a common-day occurrence, the English and Scots have been claiming friendships for years.” Alexander unsheathed his dagger and cut a wedge of cheese from the block in his hand. “Often, against the will of outraged family members, they pledge their love and wed.”
Nichola stared at him, a wild hope building. She was aware of the border marriages, where one day you owned land in Scotland, the next, due to political upheaval and resultant sieges, the land’s ownership shifted to England. Were his words an unspoken promise? Was he hinting that he wished to seek a martial union with her?
Her heart pounded as she considered what a life with him would mean. The days of hard work, the exhaustion at the end, unsure what the next day would bring. Heat rose in her as she imagined the nights making love with Alexander.
“What of my clouting you over the head?” she asked, fighting a bout of nerves.
A tinge of red crept up his cheeks. He shrugged. “You are resourceful.”
The grudging respect in his voice left her further off balance. “Even if I or my brother agreed, your people would never accept me.” Or you, she silently added. She took a small bite of bread and chewed.
“If I have learned nothing else in the time we have spent together,” he said with quiet regard, “it is that you are not a coward.”
Nichola leaned against the hewn stone and studied his face. She’d believed him angry on their return trip. Now she saw naught but determination. No, anger still existed, yet, for what ever his reason, he quelled it.
Even if she wanted, Nichola was unsure if she could give what he asked. “Friendship is not easy for me,” she said, turning the conversation to a safer topic.
Other books
The School of English Murder by Ruth Dudley Edwards
Devour by Kurt Anderson
The Green Bicycle by Haifaa Al Mansour
Roughstock (A Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Crum, Laura
Forbidden Passions by India Masters
6 Fantasy Stories by Robert T. Jeschonek
Never Too Late by RaeAnne Thayne
A Lady Never Surrenders by Sabrina Jeffries
Vampires of the Sun by Kathyn J. Knight
