Rexanne Becnel (14 page)

His warm breath sent an unexpected tingle through her. She squirmed against his bold embrace, but that only made her more aware of his masculine contours. Against her softness he was hard, and when he shifted his hold about her waist she seemed to fit almost too well into his arms.

Then she felt his lips moving within her hair, seeking her neck, her ear, and her shoulder.

“Let me go,” she cried in spite of the little quiver that shook her.

“Never,” he whispered as he nibbled at her sensitive earlobe. He turned her easily within his arms then pressed her shamelessly against him.

“I hate you,” Lilliane muttered, stubbornly avoiding his seeking lips. “I hate you and I always shall.”

“We shall see.”

One of his hands tilted her face up to his, and his eyes met her hostile and accusing gaze. “’Tis a pity you did not stay skinny and shy,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his lips narrowed and quite unexpectedly he turned away.

Left to support herself, Lilliane’s legs nearly buckled. She was weak and confused, not liking the odd sensations he’d raised in her. She raised one shaking palm to her flushed cheeks as she watched him cross to the far corner of the room. He took an armful of sheepskins from a neatly stacked pile and spread them on the floor before the hearth. Then he added still more to form a bed. Only when he was finished did he look to her.

“Remove your kirtle and come here,” he ordered as he pulled his chainse off and draped it over the stool.

Lilliane had stood frozen where he’d left her, stunned by her shameful response to this man. She hated him as she hated everyone from Colchester. Yet once again she’d gone pliant in his embrace. She was ashamed of her wantonness. But more than anything, she was terrified of where it might lead.

When it was clear she would not comply, he moved toward her. “There is no place for shyness between man and wife.”

“But I’m not your wife,” she whispered.

“After tonight you will be,” he stated as he lifted her heavy hair from her shoulders.

Lilliane did not try to run, but she could not prevent flinching when his hand drew near, and it darkened his features. Then slowly and deliberately he cupped her face in his broad palm and bent down to her. For a long trembling moment he stared deeply into her eyes until Lilliane closed her lids in self-defense. When his lips captured hers it was in a kiss of pure possession. She wanted to resist him, but Corbett would not relent. His lips moved over hers with an expertise that left her gasping for breath. He seemed to envelop her: with his body, with his very will. He was as hard as granite, his arms were like steel bands, and his hands would not give up their hold.

And yet his lips were soft. In spite of her wish to deny him, her mind still registered that fact.

When his tongue traced a sensuous path along her lips she felt weak; if he had released her she knew she would have collapsed. But it was not a part of his plans to free her from his embrace, she thought even as she grew more and more pliant beneath his kiss. He planned to precede the wedding ceremony with the wedding night. He would have her and plant his hated Colchester seed within her and love be damned.

A sob caught in her throat. Even worse, respect be damned. She’d not expected to find love with her chosen husband, at least not at first. But surely respect!

Yet despite all logic, Lilliane could feel herself responding to him. Without warning he swept her off her feet and crossed to the sheepskin bed. She tried to twist away as he lowered her, but it was futile. He flung himself down on the pallet and trapped her at once beneath his long, heavy frame.

“No! No, don’t do this,” Lilliane protested as she tried to evade his quick hands. But he was swifter than she and he easily removed her loose kirtle from her. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he flung the kirtle aside.

All the fight left her then. Her only concern was to hide her nakedness from him. But Corbett would have none of it, and he quickly captured her hands.

“I hate you!” she whispered as he planted a kiss on the side of her neck. Her soft tone did not disguise her heated emotion, for she sought to convince herself of the truth of the words as much as she hoped to hurt him.

“You may very well hate me. But beneath your coldness I have seen your fire. It is your choice, Lily. Stay cold and unresponsive, doing only your minimal wifely duties. Or be a true wife and meet me with all the passion I know you have within you.”

But she was not his wife, she told herself. Nor would she admit that she felt any passion for him at all. She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to feel nothing. But when he gently caressed her cheek then slid his fingers down her neck, she could not control the terrible trembling that shook her body. Nor could she prevent the two tears that squeezed from beneath her dark lashes. It was the final humiliation, and her throat constricted with her effort not to sob.

Then she felt a tender kiss on first one eye and then the other, and she came completely undone. Like a torrent the tears came, hot and salty, and seemingly endless. She felt the shift of Corbett’s weight as he drew a little back from her. With his thumb he tried to wipe her tears away. When that did not work, he used his shirt. Yet the more he tried to banish her tears, the harder they came.

She heard his soft muttered oath, then he lay down beside her and pulled her close against him. With hands at first awkward he began to smooth her tangled hair and gently stroke her back.

“Hush, Lily. Hush,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s nothing to fear.”

When her weeping did not abate, he tried to make her face him. “You must stop this crying. You’re making yourself sick.”

But she did not want to hear. She was afraid of him and the way he made her feel, first so angry and then so weak and warm. Like a miserable child she tried to hide her face from his astute scrutiny. Corbett, however, would not allow it. With hands that were gentle but firm, he rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her. Then he began to kiss her.

First her eyes. Then her cheeks and forehead. Her chin was next, then down along her jawline in small nibbling kisses. And all the while his hands played with her thick, waving hair.

Beneath her the curling sheep’s wool tickled her skin while above his weight was disturbingly warm. Her hands were no longer imprisoned, and yet she did not think to fight him off. Sensing her new pliancy, Corbett moved his kiss to her throat. Lilliane felt a quiver inside her as his lips slid down her tender flesh. At the small hollow of her throat his tongue made a small wet circle and her heart began to beat more rapidly.

The thought occurred to her that she should end this utter madness, and she squirmed in mild protest. But that only brought his weight more firmly against her belly and sent the most alarming sensation coursing through her. Then his mouth moved in the most enticing patterns to her ear. Around the delicate pink edge his tongue licked and explored as his hot breath set her atremble.

Suddenly Lilliane was no longer chilled at all. Instead she was hot and restless and tense with anticipation. A small part of her recognized that he was seducing her. He knew exactly what to do and he’d probably done it many, many times before. But she could not make herself stop him.

When his hand found her bare breast, a small cry escaped her. But just as quickly his lips were on hers to quiet her, to please her, to make her forget her fear. His tongue slid along her lips, gently forcing entrance into her sweet mouth and making her quiver with delight. On two fronts he pressed his advantage, teasing her nipples with agonizing patience even as he coaxed her into returning his kisses.

The feel of Corbett’s tongue against hers was staggering. Deep within her feminine core something wonderful and terrifying was happening. She fairly ached with some unknown need that heated her through and through, and made every inch of her skin sensitive beyond belief. She was not aware of his knee forcing her thighs apart, for she was too intoxicated by the exquisite feel of his tongue dancing with hers. She did not protest when his hand swept heatedly across her belly, for that was when he began to kiss her breasts.

First down the smooth valley between them, then slowly up to one aching nipple and then the other. Lilliane was arching off the sheepskin bed, offering herself to him fully as she felt the excitement building within her. Somehow her hands had found him, one tangling in his hair while the other moved shakily over his shoulders and back.

Then she felt his hand move between her thighs. As if he knew precisely where this need of hers was centered, his finger slid along her wet woman’s place, driving her nearly to madness. Around and around his finger circled the sensitive nub until she was mindless with the sheer pleasure of it.

She was trembling; her skin was covered with a fine sheen of dampness, shining gold in the fire’s light. She wanted more of this wonderful terrible madness, and she groaned in agony when he paused to remove the last of his own clothing. Then she felt the heated length of him press hard against her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his body down along hers, letting her feel the thick shaft of his masculinity. Her breath caught and she stared into his face, suddenly alarmed at what was happening.

But it was far too late for her to try to stop him. She felt him, hot and probing, as he sought the entrance to her most feminine and private place, and she started to protest. But his mouth silenced her even as he slid into her. His kiss was exquisite, deep and passionate, drawing all that was sweet from her and giving her back passion and fire. But even that was not enough to block out the sudden tearing pain of his complete entry.

“No!” She twisted her face away, unaware of the tears that sprang to her eyes. But it was useless. She could not escape the heavy weight of him, nor the painful reality of his complete possession of her.

In vain she pushed at him, trying to drive him away. But he did not even flinch at her attack; indeed he began to move over her in a slow, rhythmic cadence that she was sure would rip her asunder.

“Oh, please!” she cried weakly, reduced to pleading with him. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Hush, my sweet,” he replied as his lips found hers in a long, lingering kiss. “Don’t fight it, Lily. Don’t fight me. Just let yourself enjoy it.”

“No … I cannot.” She gasped as she tried to avoid his searching mouth. But she should have known better than to oppose him. As he slowly increased the tempo of his movement within her, so did he begin to draw her into the kiss. It was deeper than before, more heated and passionate, and it seemed to touch something primitive within her.

She was not at once aware of the changes happening to her. All she knew was that where she had felt only fiery pain a new sort of heat was building. Long and slow, it grew and grew until she could not find it in her to resist any longer.

Corbett’s hands were in her hair, holding her face between his callused palms. She arched eagerly into his kiss, welcoming the sensuous lick of his tongue against hers even as she welcomed the increasing thrusts of his lovemaking. Her hands slid over his back, glorying in the strange slick feel of his hot skin beneath her touch. She found the three ridges on his shoulder, the scars of some beast’s claws upon him, and in mindless ecstasy she slid her fingertips along them.

She was dizzy with exhilaration and frightened by the way he pushed her beyond her own control. But still she could not deny him. She felt as if she must burst from pure bliss. Then she felt his movements increase to a furious tempo as he seemed to touch the very center of her. His body, so strong and well muscled, tensed over hers, and she felt, then heard, the deep groans of his satisfaction. In a gradually easing pace he slowed his rhythm. His breath was fast and hard in her ear, yet she sensed that he would soon be ending their lovemaking and she felt a stab of intense regret.

She was so close to some elusive, enticing answer. She did not know what it was or how she even knew it existed. But she did not want him to stop. Her arms wrapped tightly around him as if by sheer willpower she could prolong this moment forever. He was like some magnificent, mythical creature sent down to earth for her pleasure. Yet she feared some jealous god was taking him back now, and she was not ready to let him go.

Lilliane’s eyes were tightly closed. Reality was not something she wanted to accept just yet. But when Corbett pulled a little away from her, she could not prevent a small cry of disappointment from escaping her. Still, when he rolled onto his back, bringing her to lay on top of him, she could no longer ignore the fact that she had just behaved like a wanton with this man—and that she had not wanted it to end.

She was in a quandary. Her body still ached with a need she did not at all understand, but her mind was horrified by that very need. She was disloyal and sinful, she told herself as she lay still trembling in his arms. Disloyal to the people who had suffered for five years for the Colchesters’ hatred, and sinful to have enjoyed an act so clearly forbidden by the church outside the boundaries of marriage.

She tried to push away from him, but his hand moved possessively down her bare back to rest at her waist. His other hand held her head gently against his chest.

“Be still now,” he murmured. “Be still.”

His voice was a low rumble in her ear, deep and strangely comforting. When he pulled another of the sheepskins over them, she did not protest. Her mind was whirling with contradictory thoughts, and she fully intended to slip away from his intimate embrace once he fell asleep.

But as his breathing slowed to normal Lilliane relaxed as well. By the time he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her ringless finger, she was soundly asleep.

L
ILLIANE AWOKE TO A
muffled curse and the chilling wash of crisp morning air across her bare skin. For one moment she groped for the source of heat that had kept her warm all night. Then an impatient pounding at the door brought her fully awake, and she scrambled for some cover for her nakedness. Sir Corbett was already up, pulling on his braies as he called out to their noisy visitor.