Knight's Caress (22 page)

What was the matter with her? he wondered, sorely vexed. That morning she’d been so passionate and giving, and now she was as cold as a frozen stream. He guessed that if he truly turned his energies in her direction, he’d be able to thaw her like the sun in springtime. But he decided not to press her—that, for whatever reason, she wanted no part of him then.

But later, that would be a different story. When they were alone, he’d make it different.

~
~
~

The trek to London lasted six days. By the time the king and his retinue reached the royal hall in Westminster, the same one that had been built by Edward the Confessor and which was outside the smelly city itself, night had fallen.

A servant quietly led Amberlie and Tedric to their chamber by torchlight. A large canopied bed beckoned to the tired duo, and Amberlie fell upon it, her weariness dulling the hunger pangs which plagued her. “His Majesty has ordered a bath and food to be sent,” the woman informed them in French after lighting a torch in the wall sconce.

Tedric didn’t quite understand her, so Amberlie acted as interpreter. He nodded eagerly, and shot Amberlie a lustful look which she had come to know full well. “Don’t you ever get enough?” she asked after the woman had departed the room. “We’ve been traveling for days and are dirty, tired, and hungry, and all you can think about is bedding me.”

“Not quite true,” he said, and began pulling off his tunic. “Perhaps I think about making love to you because traveling has prevented it. Thinking about it and doing it are two very different things.”

“I’m really very tired,” Amberlie protested weakly, but she didn’t ward him off when he sat beside her and ensnared her in his arms. Already, her eyes were closing, and she was only vaguely aware that Tedric kissed her gently before settling her back upon the bed.

Servants with buckets of warm water arrived to fill the large tub. Others brought in two trays of tempting food. Delicious aromas of freshly cooked venison, vegetables, and wine filled the room, but Amberlie was already asleep and quite unaware of the activity surrounding her.

“Would ye care for a wash, my lord?” a pretty young woman with hair the color of spun gold asked Tedric, pointing to the tub. She shyly cast her gaze toward the bed where Amberlie slept, before her eyes wandered appreciatively over Tedric’s imposing body and brazenly appraised the bulging spot within his hose. “I promise to be very quiet and not waken yon lady. I can do anything ye’d wish.”

Tedric imagined she could, and she was an appealing wench, clean too, from the look of her. But he shook his head. There was only one woman whose touch he craved, and at the moment she was in the realm of dreams.

Minutes later, after dismissing all of the servants, Tedric sat naked in the warm tub and sipped from a cup of mead. He watched Amberlie the whole time, seeing the beauty of her face, which was framed beneath an abundance of thick black hair. Her full breasts beneath her bliaut rose gently with the rise and fall of her breathing. Despite the fact that he too was fatigued from the days of traveling, just looking at her stirred a fire in his loins. He’d never responded to a woman in such a way before, so that all he had to do was gaze upon her to be filled with lust.

What was there about Amberlie that spurred such savage flames within him, that set her apart from every lover he had ever known? Many women had aroused him, even Glenna, who’d been no virgin when he’d first taken her and had known exactly how to please a man. But no woman had so totally bewitched him, besotted him, until he salivated with sheer lust and grew drunk with the very act of possession, an act which should have freed him of the spell she’d woven over him. Each time he made love to her only heightened his desire to love her again.

And each time he loved her, gentle feelings rose to the fore—feelings he buried to keep him from falling under her magic spell. He didn’t want to weaken and fall in love with his own wife.

Tedric shook his head to drive the powerful feelings of affection away. He mustn’t feel anything for Amberlie but passion and respect as his wife. She was his enemy, and though he fully anticipated she’d bear him healthy children, Tedric didn’t trust her. Never could he forget that she was a Norman noblewoman, a woman who hated him and felt she had good cause for that hatred. She thought he had taken Henri de Fontaine’s life; and no matter how passionately she responded to his lovemaking, Tedric suspected that if she got the chance, she’d somehow destroy him.

Amberlie sighed in her sleep and rolled onto her stomach. There was something so stirring about the image of her perfectly shaped buttocks that Tedric decided six days of celibacy was long enough.

Like a moth drawn to a flickering flame, Tedric got out of the tub and padded toward Amberlie, unmindful of being dripping wet. Placing his cup on a small table, he gazed down at his wife. Tedric knew he must make love to her. Every aspect of her body held him in thrall and filled him with such desire that he couldn’t help himself, didn’t want to resist touching her.

Bending down, he lifted the hem of Amberlie’s gown and ever so gently skimmed the silk fabric past her flawlessly shaped calves, over her thighs, to finally crest the curve of her bare buttocks, before settling the material around her waist like a blue cloud. Never had he known such a perfectly formed woman. Even her derriere was tinted a golden shade of peach. He lightly stroked the rounded mounds with the palms of his hands. Amberlie stirred and lifted her head to turn and look at him with sleepy eyes. “Tedric, what are you doing?”

His hands stilled. “Don’t you like what I’m doing?” he asked with a grin on his face that Amberlie could only describe as devilish.

She knew very well what his intentions were. A quick glance at his jutting manhood was proof enough. Her heartbeat quickened, and she flushed, much too aware of her response to Tedric. Why must she feel all quivery whenever this man so much as touched her? Her response was indecent, it was wrong to feel passion for Henri’s killer. She must school her responses to Tedric, her enemy. “I told you that I’m tired,” she said irritably. “Besides I’m dirty and in no mood for—”

“Then I shall wash you,” he insisted. Leaving the bed, he went to the tub, retrieved the wet washcloth, and wrung it out before returning to sit beside her on the mattress. Bending over her, he started to wash her face.

Amberlie pushed his hand away. “I’m not a child! I can wash myself!”

“Aye, but will you be able to wash well behind your ears, between the folds and crevices you can’t see? I think not, my lady. I can help you with your bath.”

“I know what sort of help you’d be, and exactly what you’d help yourself to,” she grumbled, and rolled onto her back.

“‘Tis a husband’s duty to see to his wife’s comfort,” he huskily whispered into her ear, bending low, “and pleasure.”

Amberlie shivered from the tingling sensation which darted up her spine. She recalled the time he’d entered her room as her slave and had washed her breasts. How wonderful that had felt!

“You’d rest more pleasantly after a wash. My bath has refreshed me.” To prove his point, Tedric gently skimmed the cool cloth across the tops of her breasts. “I think only of your comfort, my lady. I recall one time when you didn’t complain about my skill with a washcloth.”

Amberlie blushed to her hair roots, embarrassed for Tedric to have read her thoughts. But she remembered the image of Tedric embracing Glenna before the journey and couldn’t forget the sight. She wanted to fight her attraction for Tedric, but all the horrid man had to do was touch her and she was lost. Leave me alone! she longed to cry, but with each stroke of the cloth across her heated flesh, Amberlie lost her resistance. Even the image of Glenna in Tedric’s arms vanished. Now she was Tedric’s slave, controlled by her own lust for a man whom she hated.

One of his hands found her breast, and he massaged the nipple through her gown until it rose hard and stiff. “Do you like this, my lady?” he whispered thickly into her ear.

“I—I thought you wanted to wash me,” she replied in a voice just as husky.

“Oh, then all you want is a bath, nothing more?” He looked so smug that Amberlie would gladly have grabbed the washcloth and thrown it in his face. But she couldn’t still the ache between her legs, the way her body responded to his gentle handling of her.

“I won’t beg—I won’t—”

He broke off her words, pulling her toward him with lust smoldering in his blue eyes. His lips claimed hers in a burning kiss which left her clinging to his broad shoulders as passion overwhelmed her. If she hadn’t already been reclining on the bed, she would have fallen. His lips broke away from her mouth and nibbled upon the soft flesh of her neck. “Your clothes are in the way, my sweet. Shall I remove them?” At her nod, Tedric smiled. “But these clothes are old, and soon we shall buy cloth for new ones. Do you mind if I strip them from you?”

Amberlie sucked in her breath; her eyes grew large at such an outrageous but heart-stopping suggestion. But she nodded, too in thrall to him to refuse. “I —do —not mind.”

His hands worked at the neckline of her bliaut. “Are you certain?”

“Aye, Tedric, aye.”

He pulled at the material and wrenched it away from her, leaving only her chemise to cover her nipples, which strained toward him, two hardened peaks which he bent to suck until she moaned in tormented delight. His hands ran the length of her thighs before one settled between her legs and stroked the moist warmth of her woman’s core with the wet cloth. “‘Twould be a good idea to remove your shift so I could wash you properly, wouldn’t it?” he asked.

Amberlie swallowed convulsively. Liquid heat gathered and spread like molten gold through her lower body. She could barely speak. “‘Twould be a … good idea.”

His mouth was but an inch from hers, his breath hot upon her lips, when he said, “Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me.”

She licked her lips. Her breath came in tiny gasps. “I want you to … to…”

“Say it,” he ordered, and purposely taunted her with the washcloth.

“Uncover me. I want you—to uncover me.”

“With pleasure, my love, with pleasure.” Grabbing hold of the well-worn shift with one hand, Tedric yanked it from her, tearing it easily. He threw it atop the bliaut, which lay upon the floor. His eyes fastened upon her nakedness, and he drank in the beauty of her face and form like a man quenching a great thirst. “God, but you’re perfectly lovely,” he said in praise, and began a slow exploration of her breasts. His hands cupped each one; his fingers tenderly followed the soft contours and laved the nipples into hardened peaks with his lips. Then his fingers searched and found the pulsing bud between her legs once more, but this time there was no cloth. He stroked her, primed her with his fingertips until Amberlie couldn’t stand his wicked teasing.

“Tedric, please—please—”

He knew what she wanted. He wanted it too. Tedric pulled her up against him so that they met breast to chest, eyes to eyes. She arched against him, lifting and opening her legs to him. He slid into her, the beauty of her face inflaming his desire. A hollow moan escaped from between her lips. “Do you like this, my lady? Tell me that you like how I love you.”

“Oh, Tedric—Tedric, I like this so—so much.” She was practically whimpering as he thrust into her slowly, giving her some of him, but retreating, only to slide slowly inside again, yet not filling her to the hilt as he longed to do.

“I love that you like this, I want you to feel pleasure, my sweet Amberlie.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he heard the pleading in her voice. “Fill me, fill me, please.”

He lunged into her, impaling her on his pulsating shaft, and didn’t withdraw. She cried out loud, not from pain but from such pleasure that he felt all powerful, all knowing, all protective. Amberlie squirmed against his length, which buried deeply inside her with each thrust. Finally, he ceased thrusting, sensing that Amberlie had taken control. She arched and pushed into him, squeezing and taunting until his body threatened to explode. “I cannot wait,” he insisted, and groaned into her hair.

“Not yet,” she whispered, and slowed her movements. Tedric hovered, poised on the brink of madness while his body dictated his will, but somehow he held himself in check. She set the pace for their lovemaking, flexing her muscles around his shaft to gain the greater pleasure. Like one trained to the art, Amberlie somehow knew how to excite him but keep him from spilling into her before she was ready.

He watched her, fascinated by how the torchlight illuminated her face. She looked wild and wanton with all the dark hair spilling across the pillow, her lips moist and parted, more than bewitching in the way her eyes glazed over with ecstasy as she neared the pinnacle. Nothing was more beautiful to him than this woman, this dark-eyed goddess. He couldn’t wait any longer, and he ceased thrusting. “When, Amberlie, when?” he cried, almost in pain for his pleasure was so great.

She gazed up at him, almost as if she didn’t see him. It was then he felt the spasms begin inside her body. Her time had come. Without words, she arched upward, welcoming his last lusty thrust, which threw both of them over the edge into an explosive whirl of such intense ecstasy that when it was over, they lay spent in each other’s arms.

~
~
~

“Would you care to finish your bath, my lady?” Tedric asked with a grin some minutes later.