Improper Seduction (23 page)

“Show me to my bride.”

B
ridget didn’t sleep well. She felt too many eyes upon her to relax. The bed in the solar was encased in heavy curtains to ensure privacy, but she awoke several times when she heard the guard near the arches changing. She heard only the brushing of leather against wooden floor, but her eyes opened and every muscle tightened. Darkness engulfed the room, but there was a single glow of light, as if someone had opened the shutters that covered the windows.

Pushing back one of the bed curtains, she stood and saw that the shutters were indeed opened wide. The night air blew in, ruffling her chemise and chilling her legs. Loneliness seemed to go hand in hand with the darkness. Nevertheless, the beckoning moonlight saw her striding to the window, the silver glint bathing her while the night breeze lifted her unbound hair.

Lovers meet in the moonlight …

Heat moved over her skin, licking across the sensitive flesh while Curan’s face filled her thoughts. She felt him so keenly, it was as though the man was in the room with her. Noise from beneath the window made her frown. Moving forward she looked down and gasped.

Horses and men were filling the inner yard. Many of them
lying down next to their horses to sleep while they had the chance.

“I brought my entire army to fetch you back.”

Bridget didn’t gasp, she didn’t make any sound at all, because it felt as if Curan had materialized straight out of her longing for him.

“Does that please you, Bridget? To see that I will place my men in harm’s way to possess you?”

“No.”

He was half shadow, standing near the wall where only a spattering of moonlight touched him. She felt him more than saw him. Strength radiated from him, making her more aware of how chilly the night air was and how warm his skin would feel against her own.

He struck a flint stone, and the spark was brilliant. It gave birth to the flicker of a candle, the yellow flame bathing him in light. He lacked the mail shirt that he so often wore and stood only clothed in a shirt and pants. She sighed, too full of joy to hold the sound inside her. One of his dark eyebrows rose.

“Are you pleased to see me, Bridget? You will have to forgive me for doubting such.” His gaze slipped down her body, the candle flame turning her chemise transparent. Hunger drew his features tight.

“I am pleased to see you, yet that is not a good thing. It is a sign of how weak I am.” She moved away from the window and the candle, suddenly recalling the guards who had watched her most of the day. “I am far too happy to allow you to take the burden of obeying my father away.”

Curan made a low sound of frustration. “Do not begin trying to twist my thinking. We have received the church’s blessing three years past. It is done.”

“You know that is not so.” Bridget turned in the dark, her
chemise flaring away from her body. “Do not think that because I am a woman raised in the country that I do not hear of the number of divorces. Women who knelt in front of the altar, too, yet find themselves cast out without a single silver piece. You shall suffer along with me if we celebrate this union. No one disobeys the chancellor. It is time for you to accept reason in this matter.”

The candle flame died in a quick pinch, robbing her of her sight. Bridget didn’t hear him, but she felt him closing the distance between them. In spite of every reason, she was still keenly aware of him, still yearning for one more touch to savor before she had to live without it.

His hand cupped the side of her face, and she heard a soft moan rise from her throat. She hardly recognized such a sound coming from her own lips; it was too husky, too passionate to be hers.

“If challenging a chancellor is the only way to have you, sweet Bridget, then I shall face him without faltering.” His thumb passed over her lower lip, sending little bolts of sensation down her spine. “But be very sure that I will never allow you to leave me again.”

He growled the last few words in a deep tone that raised gooseflesh along her arms. His hand slipped into her loose hair, threading through the silken strands to capture the back of her head. His mouth pressed against hers, a hard kiss claiming her lips while his hand held her in place. His lips demanded compliance, boldly pressing hers to open so that his tongue might plunge deeply into her mouth. Passion ignited inside her so hot the night air became a soothing thing. She twisted toward him, lifting her hands to touch the hard body that had so absorbed her thoughts. Her fingertips found his chest covered in only the shirt. The ties that secured the collar were simple to open, her hands performing the task without
thought. There was only instinct guiding her, and the need pounding louder and louder until it was the only thing that she heard.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to be touched in return. A sigh broke through their kiss when her hands finally pushed his shirt aside to allow her to touch his skin. It was smooth and hot beneath her fingertips, but so decadent she couldn’t contain her delight. His hand still cradled her head, but the hold had become dear to her. Resistance was gone, her body willingly leaning into his. In the dark he was more approachable, and boldness took over as she sent her hands along his neck, pressing her entire palms to his skin.

“Sweet Bridget …”

His voice trailed off into a throaty whisper. His hand moved, his fingers combing down her loose hair. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes to allow the sensation to command her. He reached the ends and lifted both of his hands to her head to begin another long stroke through her hair. He closed the gap between them, leaning down to bury his face in her tresses. She heard him draw in a deep breath and make a sound that resembled a contented grumble against her neck.

When he reached the ends of her hair this time, his hands slid onto her hips, cupping them for a moment. The grip sent a wave of excitement through her belly, her clitoris suddenly becoming needy and demanding. The knowledge of what he could do to the little nub hidden within the folds of her sex made her even more eager for his attention.

“Tell me you want this.”

He lifted his face away from her neck and stared at her. In the moonlight, his face was cast in silver and black, making him appear more legend than man. Yet his touch was warm, like a man … like a lover.

“Tell me you desire me.”

His fingers tightened around her hips, the hold feeling more intimate than any she had ever experienced. Her blood was racing through her body, her heart beating in hard thumps that pounded against the inside of her chest. She wanted to press her belly against him, against the hard cock she knew lay hidden behind his clothing. He held her in place, however, refusing to allow her to remain silent.

“I do desire you.”

His fingers plucked at the delicate fabric of her chemise, tugging it up until he pulled the entire garment over her head. Her hair floated down once he drew the last of the chemise away from her, the long strands settling against her bare back in a whisper of sensation.

“Good, because I lack any further ability to resist you.”

He reached up and yanked his shirt free in one hard motion that betrayed how little control he had remaining. The moonlight cast its illuminating glow over hard ridges of muscle that covered him from his neck to where his pants hid the rest of his body from view. A light covering of hair curled over his chest and down the center of his belly. Bridget was acutely aware of the fact that she was nude, but not because she was ashamed. There was no guilt pressing down on her, only an awkwardness and fear that he would find her form lacking. She felt his gaze sliding over her, lingering on the teardrop shape of her breasts as they hung exactly the way nature had designed them. Her nipples drew into tight little pebbles while he remained silent, and his attention slid lower to her waist and then over the flare of her hips.

“It feels as though I have waited an eternity to see you like this.” He reached out, gently stroking the curve of one breast, his fingers tracing the soft globe until they encountered her hard nipple. “It was worth every tormenting moment.”

His fingers lingered on her nipple, softly pinching it. Sharp enjoyment shot through her, and she shifted away, unable to remain still. He frowned at her but reached for the waistband of his pants and opened them instead of closing the distance between them. The open garment sagged down his legs, and he stepped out of it in one swift motion. His cock stood up, stiff and erect, with nothing to impede her sight of it.

“I believe you claimed your mother had you tutored by a courtesan to keep you from fear tonight. Is it working?”

“Yes …” She answered before thinking. Her mind had long since stopped trying to interrupt her with its ponderings.

“Then touch me, Bridget.”

She had never heard him plead, but it was there in his husky tone. A need to have her come to him. There was no choice involved. She reached out, her fingers connecting with his erect member. He stiffened, drawing in a harsh breath. Hearing that telltale little sound flooded her with confidence. She closed her hand around his girth, allowing her fingers to grip him gently. Her memory offered up a picture of how Marie had stroked Tomas’s length, and Bridget mimicked the motions.

“Sweet Christ.”

Curan clamped a hard arm around her, pulling her against his body and trapping her hand in place.

Frustration sent her chin up. “Now who is timid?”

His teeth were bared at her, but she rubbed the underside of his cock with her fingers and listened to him suck breath through his teeth.

“I believe it only fair that I reduce you to the same weak creature your touch makes me.” His lips curved up in an arrogant grin. “I enjoyed hearing you whimper.”

“I believe I will enjoy hearing the same from your lips just
as much.” She rubbed his cock once again. “Unless you are too much afraid of a woman gaining control over you. Somehow I doubt that you have never been sucked.”

“Sweet Christ, that woman told you about sucking a man?”

Bridget laughed, a throaty sound that drew one of his hands down to one side of her bottom. His fingers gripped her, the tips curling into the valley between her cheeks. Rising up onto her toes, she placed a soft kiss against his chin.

“She showed me.”

He cursed beneath his breath and in French, but it filled her with more boldness.

“Does that displease you? I seem to recall that the subject Marie demonstrated on was most pleased. Or did you want a wife who would lie on her back and submit while reciting her prayers as you serviced her?”

His fingers began stroking her bottom, massaging and gripping the cheek they were holding. Heat licked its way through her passage, making her aware of how empty she was.

“You will be far too busy whimpering with pleasure to pray.” His fingers suddenly delved farther between her thighs to touch the entrance of her body. She jerked, knocking her teeth against his chin. He grunted but remained still, one fingertip gently entering her body.

“But we were discussing
me
making
you
whimper.” This clear challenge in her voice caused his face to tighten. The arm chaining her to him suddenly relaxed, allowing her to move far enough away to begin stroking his cock once again.

“So we were.”

There was unmistakable challenge in his voice as well. But her confidence rose to answer it, determination making her bold. Sinking to her knees, she used both hands to stroke his flesh. It was hard, yet covered in silky smooth skin. Opening her mouth, she licked along the ridge of thick flesh that ran
around the head. She heard him drag in another harsh breath, heard it hissing through his teeth. Such a small thing, but from Curan it was a glaring signal that she was affecting him. She longed to be more than a possession; here in the dark she wanted to be his lover. Which entitled her to an equal share of giving delight.

She allowed her lips to close around the head of his cock. Another hiss escaped from him, but his hand appeared at the back of her head, gently cupping while she teased his cock with her tongue. Her heart was still pounding, the frantic pace keeping her warm. Her rapid breathing drew the scent of his skin into her senses. The fragrance was distinctly male and intoxicating when coupled with the way he drew those harsh breaths. Her confidence blossomed, and she relaxed her jaw to take more of his length into her mouth. His flesh felt harder than she’d expected, but it was covered in the satin of his skin.

Bridget felt nothing unpleasant, and she discovered that she preferred doing the sucking far more than viewing someone else perform the deed. Watching had not allowed her to truly experience how much it excited her. She hadn’t smelled the scent of his skin or tasted the faint salty drops of seed that collected in the slit that crowned his cock. She had been ignorant of so much while watching, for the act was decadent.

He muttered something that didn’t make sense, but the tone stoked her growing pride. She might be on her knees, but there was nothing submissive about her position. Using her hands to caress the portion of his cock that wasn’t inside her mouth, she experimented with speed and tightness. She judged the success of her efforts by the sounds he made and the way his hand began to grip her head tighter, as though he feared she might stop.

She recalled that yearning … that pounding need to press against the hand giving her pleasure. She wanted to place him
in that same position, wanted to know that he was as desperate for her touch as she had been for his. Her hands moved faster, and she took even more of him into her mouth. His hips jerked, thrusting toward her as she heard his breathing become ragged and fast.

“No.” He pulled her head back as he snarled that single word at her.

She hissed back at him, her temper flaring up. “You gave me release with your hand. Why will you not submit to my touch?”

“Because I have spent too many hours wondering if I have lost you to take the quick pleasure your lips promise me.”

He hooked his hands beneath her arms and lifted her off her knees in a motion that stole her breath. She forgot how much strength he possessed, forgot because he always controlled it so expertly when touching her. Yet it was there in his body, far more strength than she had, plenty to imprison or hurt her if he chose to disregard her comfort.