The Snow White Bride (7 page)

* * * * *

H
is was a kiss that changed all.

Eleanor had never been courted with a kiss. She had been bussed, she had been used for a man’s pleasure, she had been bedded for duty and treated like property.

She had never been seduced.

She had never been granted the gift of time. Alexander kissed as if he did not care how long it took her to become accustomed to his touch, as if he did not care how long it took to rouse her ardor. He kissed as if he expected to both give and receive pleasure.

It was wondrous, this kiss of his, and she indulged herself in a newfound pleasure. Something thawed within
her, something opened like a blossom touched by the sun’s heat.

Eleanor closed her eyes, for it was but a kiss, and lost herself in sensation. She parted her lips, inviting him closer, and caught her breath when he deepened his kiss. Still, he cajoled; still, she suspected that she could halt him with a fingertip; still, she surrendered more.

His kiss was pure sorcery. There was no unbridled violence in his embrace, to be sure, and conviction of that dissolved Eleanor’s resistance. He did not judge her and find her wanting; he did not desire only one deed of her.

He courted her for her own self. Eleanor found her hands sliding across his shoulders, her fingers kneading the muscled strength of him, then twining in the thick waves of his hair. She found herself welcoming his embrace like the courtesan she had professed to be; she found herself meeting him, touch for touch, and yearning for more.

His hand rose to her breast, cupping its weight, his thumb sliding across her nipple, teasing it to a point. Eleanor arched her back, fairly pressing herself against him, and he made a sound of pleasure that thrilled her. She wanted only to coax him closer. She could not think sensibly. She could not remain angry that he had forgotten his own victory in his quest. She could not consider anything of import beyond the persuasive pressure of Alexander’s kiss.

And that was dangerous, indeed. She had never known a man determined to court her favor, for its own merit. Eleanor wished heartily that they
had
met abed the night before, that he had claimed her maidenhead, that she was not deceiving him.

The recollection of her trick was sobering. Eleanor
broke their kiss with an effort. She pushed Alexander away, so that there was a step between them, as well as a great deal else.

He watched her, his gaze simmering, then leaned his fists on the wall on either side of her shoulders. Though he did not touch her, she was trapped within the circle of his arms. To be trapped, to see his determination, to note his fists upon the wall, all combined to awaken an old fear. Eleanor caught her breath.

Did his sweet kiss make her forget all that she knew?

“I am yet sore,” she lied hastily. She ducked under his arm and quickly put the width of the chamber between them.

Alexander let her go, much to her relief.

When she dared to glance back, he stood with feet braced against the floor, arms folded across his chest, splendidly nude. His expression was difficult to read and he was uncommonly still.

“Did I injure you last evening?” His softly uttered question seemed to echo in the chamber, seemed to hang in the air and demand a reply.

He had not, of course, though the suggestion offered an easy means of keeping his caresses to a minimum. Eleanor shrugged. “No more than most men would have done, I assume.” She turned away, as if unable to look upon him, but not so quickly that she did not see him wince.

She felt bad then, for he did not recall the truth and she used his ignorance against him. But encouragement would undoubtedly see her back in his arms, and the truth would see him rescind his proposal. Eleanor had never been so caught between truth and her own objectives, and she knew not what to say.

Worse, her lips burned in recollection of Alexander’s caress, making her think of matters more earthy. It was not like her to yearn for a man’s caress. She needed a moment to collect her wits, to think clearly.

“I am sorry,” Alexander said, and she heard his footsteps as he crossed the floor. “Grant me this chance, Eleanor, to win your regard. Wed me and let me court you abed anew. Let me show you that our nights abed together do not have to repeat our first one.” He offered his hand then and she liked his resolve. “Put your hand in mine, Eleanor, wed me and let us put a poor beginning behind us. It can be done.”

She straightened. “I had thought you a man to put value in a quest.”

“And so I am.” He tilted his head to regard her, his eyes dancing with those delightful twinkles again. “Surely it will not be so onerous to have a knight laboring for your favor, all of each day and all of each night.”

“But you won my smile already. Do not tell me that you have forgotten even your own triumph?”

He stared at her, aghast, and she knew that he did not recall. Had the potion stolen away his recollection, or was he so careless about winning the favor of women that he would have forgotten even without the potion?

Eleanor wished she could know the truth.

She also wished she did not feel so shrewish for having stolen the laughter from his eyes.

Alexander shoved a hand through his hair. “I am doubly indebted to you then, and must labor stridently to win your favor. I apologize, Eleanor. I do not know what happened to me last night.”

Eleanor glanced away, awkward in her own knowledge.

“Allow me the chance to win your favor again.” He bowed deeply over her hand, and should have looked comical in his nudity. Instead, Eleanor was aware of the breadth of him, the strength of him, and the masculinity of him. She desired him with such sudden vigor that s
he could not catch her breath. “
Trust that I am at your service, as all men of merit should be at the service of ladies in peril.”

“I am not in peril,” she corrected hastily.

Alexander granted her a stem glance. “Of course you are. You are in peril of losing your heart, for I intend to win that prize next
.
” He touched his finger to the bare skin revealed above the sheet, touching her just above the place where her heart beat wildly in response to his very presence. “You may be certain that I will never surrender that prize, once it is securely within my grasp.”

Eleanor felt her eyes widen. She could smell his skin. Warmth emanated from that small point of contact and she saw how Alexander’s eyes darkened to indigo. She licked her lips, unable to not do so, and he watched the tip of her tongue greedily. He whispered her name and stepped closer. She felt his erection against her hip, felt only the smooth barrier of cloth between them, but curiously she had no desire to flee.

“But why?” she asked, her voice sounding so husky that it might not have been her own.

He smiled. “Because it is right and proper for a man to hold his lady wife’s heart, just as she should so possess his.”

Eleanor stared up at him, astonished by his whimsical endorsement of love. She had never been so aware of a man, had never lusted for a man’s touch as she did in this
moment. She wanted to meet Alexander abed, this very morning, though she was astonished by the power of her own desire.

Alexander
bent his head and touched his li
ps to hers. This kiss was tentative, as if he asked her permission to continue, and its effect was more heady than that of the finest wine.

Eleanor closed her eyes and lifted her lips more resolutely to his. Alexander’s mouth closed over hers with possessive ease, his hands locked around her waist. He lifted her against his chest and kissed her thoroughly this time.

Marvel of marvels, Eleanor was not afraid. She opened her mouth, she echoed his every gesture, she tasted of him as he feasted upon her. She forgot herself, her past, her fears, and knew only that she wanted the heat of Alexander Lammergeier within her.

Immediately.

In that moment, the key was suddenly and noisily turned in the lock of the door to the solar.

* * * * *

“
M
erry Christmas!” shouted Alexander’s family. Five sisters and two brothers-in-law poured over the threshold. Their anticipation of what they would find was nigh tangible.

What they did find made them gasp aloud in astonishment.

Alexander swore. He shoved Eleanor behind him and she felt her face burn. She dropped her brow to the back of his shoulder, savoring the shield he made, though she
was the one who had the linens. He stood nude before his blushing sisters and stared down the chuckles of his brothers-in-law. Those men hastily barricaded the view of the younger sisters while their wives laughed aloud.

“Alexander!” Madeline gasped. “You rogue!”

“He is more the rogue than ever we imagined,” Vivienne agreed.

“I suppose,” Alexander said, even as he seized the end of Eleanor’s sheet and wound it around his hips, “that you all find it amusing to interrupt me abed with my intended bride.”

“Bride!” Madeline and Vivienne declared in unison and mock astonishment, then exchanged a conspiratorial glance that Eleanor was certain would reveal their involvement to Alexander.

“Yes,
bride,
”
he said, apparently oblivious to this exchange. “Elizabeth, please inform Anthony that there will be nuptials celebrated this very morning. Isabella, please tell Father Malachy as
well
…”

“But the ba
nn
s
…” that
sister protested.

“Will be waived,” Alexander said with resolve. “If he wishes to argue the matter, we can do so when my lady and I reach the chapel.” He claimed Eleanor’s hand and granted her a glance that she did not doubt was supposed to be reassuring. “It will be a short argument.”

“You have evidence upon your side,” she said, reminding him of the linens, and Alexander nodded crisply.

“Indeed, I do. Madeline, would you gather the bed linens and Annelise can ensure that the priest and the household see them.” Eleanor noted that he had dispatched his maidenly sisters from the solar with haste. “And I would beg the aid of all of my enchanting sisters
in seeing Eleanor fittingly attired. It would be a good portent if she wore some new garb for our nuptials.”

“Oho, he flatters us,” Vivienne said with a smile. “Surely that means trouble ahead for all of us.”

“Have you brothers, Eleanor?” Isabella asked with mock innocence; then Alexander roared and sent them all scattering.

“I should find some garb more fitting than the linens,” he said to Eleanor when they were alone. She had only the warning of his mischievous wink before he flicked the sheet away from her, leaving her nude before him. Eleanor covered her breasts with her hands before she realized the folly of what she did.

Oblivious to her gesture, Alexander marched across the floor, then claimed the key. He frowned for a moment that it was on the outside of the door and Eleanor was certain he would realize that they had been locked in, not that they had locked the others out. He then shook his head and locked the portal with a flourish before tinning to face Eleanor anew. Her heart fairly stopped, so familiar was this circumstance.

A nude man with an erection, a formidable man with a determined gleam in his eye, had locked her in his chamber and taken away her sole garb. Despite what Eleanor thought she knew of Alexander, a raw panic seized her.

The situation was too familiar, its ending all too sure. A trio of kisses and she was as much a fool as once she had been. A trio of kisses and she forgot what a man could do when his merest whim was denied.

“And what were we doing before we were so rudely interrupted?” he mused, his confident manner and his nudity feeding her terror.

“Nothing!” Eleanor cried, to his obvious astonishment. She lunged for the portal, uncaring that she had not a thread with which to cover herself. Alexander made to catch her about the waist, but Eleanor tripped him.

Alexander cursed as he fell. “What ails you?” he cried, then cursed as he hit his knee on the floor. The key loosed from his grip and danced across the floor.

Eleanor fairly fell upon the key, then raced to the door

“Eleanor! You kissed me readily enough a moment past!”

Eleanor shoved the key into the lock with shaking fingers and ran into the corridor, leaving an astonished man behind her.

“What have I done?” Alexander bellowed, but Eleanor paid him no heed. He cursed audibly, but did not immediately pursue her.

Eleanor fled down the stairs. She managed to descend only one flight before the sisters surrounded her, all achatter with what she might wear, and coaxed her into their chambers. She stood quivering amid them, willing her wild heartbeat to slow. Silks and samites were spilled across the floor, slippers mingled in disarray and stockings piled before trunks. A plump maid shouted for order, to no avail.

Eleanor sat down heavily upon a trunk and heaved a sigh of relief when the door was barred against men. Her breathing slowed and she calmed enough to realize that Alexander probably had only desired to finish his kiss.

And then she felt seven kinds of fool for having fled his side.

The man would certainly think her witless. And indeed, Eleanor would not have argued that view, for her
own deeds might well cost her the respite at Kinfairlie that she so ardently desired.