She sighed. Watching Hugh, withdrawn and filled with bitter misery, made her want to hold him and make everything better. Again, she felt the weight of responsibility for her actions.
Impulsively, and without being aware of what she was doing, Eleanor reached out and ran her fingers through Hugh’s wet hair, pushing it back. She moved closer and touched the side of his face, tracing his strong, angular jaw. He snapped his eyes open and turned to meet her enigmatic gaze, raising his brows in confusion. She smiled at him—a smile of hope and sanguinity.
Her gaze moved from Hugh’s eyes to his mouth, and slowly she moved in and pressed her lips gently to his—a soft, feather-light kiss. A kiss of peace...a kiss to heal.
She pulled away and regarded him. Bewilderment was etched on his handsome face as she brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. Eleanor dipped her head to cover his lips again with her own.
As if suddenly awoken from the depths of slumber, Hugh moved his lips against hers and his arms came out of the bath to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer and closer until she was pressed against the wooden tub.
Without warning, Hugh leant forward and lifted her up and over, into the bath, making her squeal as she fell on top of him with a splash.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she burst out laughing as she lay on top of him, submerged in delicious-smelling bathwater. He joined in, chuckling at having his fully clothed wife sharing his bath, no doubt.
Then they locked eyes and gradually ceased laughing. Hugh pulled back Eleanor’s veil and threw it to the floor, unpinning her bound hair, releasing the velvety dark lengths that tumbled down, their ends doused in the water. He ran his hand through her hair and cupped her face, dripping water.
‘What have we here, Eleanor?’ he mused, curling his lips into that half-smile, revealing a dimple.
It was astounding how quickly Hugh’s mood had changed, and she realised that his temperament was naturally positive. He had an easy confidence that was both attractive and infectious.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what to do next but was, nevertheless, aware of her closeness to his body...his very hard, very naked body... She tried not to register the size of his shoulders, or the fact that her legs, although shrouded by the many layers of drenched clothing that covered them, were still nonetheless pressed against his strong, muscly ones. Breathless, she didn’t want to admit the other parts of his body were in very close contact with hers too.
Hugh ran his thumb over her bottom lip, imitating what she had done just moments ago. ‘You know, you are very beautiful, Eleanor,’ he whispered as he leaned in and claimed her lips again, kissing her softly before drawing back, grinning. ‘And you’re diverting me in the most unexpected way. I thank you.’
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and then pushed up, sitting straight in the tub, jerking her to sit across him.
‘But now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I wish to get out.’
He gripped the side of the bath, indicating that this diversion, however pleasant, was now at an end. He seemed eager to get back to wallowing in misery on his own.
Eleanor knew she was being gently dismissed, but couldn’t quite move away. She sat on top of him instead, watching him, exhaling quick puffs of air, trying not to think of his nakedness submerged in the opaque bath water.
Hugh caught her gaze, his eyes narrowing. She felt the hardness of his manhood, even against the many layers of wet clothing, but surprisingly it didn’t alarm her. Instead, a rush of heat flooded her senses.
‘Eleanor...?’ he murmured, looking into her eyes, seeking answers.
His breathing seemed to match hers, slow and gasping, and her heartbeat was pounding in the stillness of the moment as they continued to stare at each other. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and then leaned in to press her lips to his again. Her response given, Hugh drew her close and kissed her deeply, with such passion and intensity that she felt she was melting into him.
She tried to match him, kiss for kiss. But Hugh eased away from her lips to kiss her cheeks, and then the soft flesh behind her earlobes. Nipping gently, his mouth moved to savour the side of her neck as she trembled.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked, running his hands down the sides of her shoulders.
She shook her head, unable to say the words, making him smile. His gaze held such intent, such desperate longing, it shifted something deep inside her.
‘Eleanor...?’ He groaned. ‘Is this what you want?’
She watched him, wondering whether his heart was beating as fast as hers.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes.’
In one swift motion Hugh rose from the bath, taking her with him, and set her down close to the hearth, where the fire spread its warmth. He began to dry her with soft lengths of linen cloth, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he dried himself and wrapped another piece of cloth around his waist, securing it tightly. He, too, was breathing heavily as he stepped forward and scooped Eleanor into his arms, capturing her mouth, kissing her deeply.
He carried her to set her down to stand on the rug, and her toes curled into the depths of the soft pile of the wool as warmth flooded her.
‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you, Eleanor of Tallany.’ He cupped the side of her face tenderly. ‘But I wanted you to come to me yourself, when you were ready. This was always to be your choice.’
She reached out and traced his lips with the tips of her fingers, making him groan, and then touched her own, swollen with the lingering effects of his devastating kisses.
‘It is, Hugh,’ she whispered.
She touched the scar that split his eyebrow and placed a kiss where her fingers had been. Then she continued to trace the long, deep battle scars, echoing her own hidden ones, and explored the hard muscles of his shoulders and back.
She heard Hugh’s breath catch as her hands caressed the lean, muscular ridges of his chest, biceps and stomach. She gazed, fascinated, at the smattering of hair that drifted over his chest and trailed down his stomach, disappearing underneath the wrapped linen cloth.
She suddenly wanted to know more, wanted to see where the trail would end, and reached instinctively to remove the cloth.
Hugh’s hand shot out, clasped her fingers in his, grinning. Then slowly, so exquisitely slowly, he peeled away her layers of heavy, waterlogged clothing, his hands skimming over her, learning the curves of her body, replacing the layers of wet, clinging garments with the explorative touch of his mouth and his hands.
Gradually the outline of Eleanor’s body was revealed, until there was only one last layer of clothing. His fingers slowly went to the hem of her tunic, lifting it a little higher. A warning darted through Eleanor, reminding her to be cautious. There were parts of her body she could never expose, knowing they would only disgust Hugh.
She pulled away.
‘Do you wish me to stop, Eleanor?’ he asked, curling a tendril of her hair around his finger.
‘No, no... But...’ she took in a deep breath ‘...I will remove my tunic.’
‘A little too late for maidenly modesty, don’t you think, wife?’
His eyes smouldered as he raked her from her head to her toes and then back again.
‘If you wouldn’t mind turning around, husband?’
Hugh chuckled softly with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘But I can see all of you anyway.’
‘Humour me, please?’
Hugh shook his head but complied, turning his back on Eleanor. As soon as he did so she peeled off the last layer of wet clothing, threw it on the floor and bounded into bed, dragging the coverlet up to her chin.
Incredibly, Eleanor wasn’t scared about what was about to happen between them. She was nervous, yes—but not scared. Not any more.
Her heart was pounding as she lay naked on her back under the bedding, but she knew the r
eason for that. Hugh...only because of Hugh.
‘I’m ready, husband.’
‘So you are, my lady.’
His eyes glittered with amusement as he strode to the bed and took off the linen cloth before climbing in and sliding next to her under the coverlet.
‘Now, what do we have here? A naked wife?’
Eleanor giggled nervously. ‘Not such a modest maiden after all?’
‘No...’ he drawled. ‘Not so.’
He kissed her, smiling against her lips, and his hands continued their exploration of her body. Touching, feeling, caressing. Skin to skin.
Saints above!
Hugh’s gloriously naked body pressed so close to hers suddenly brought a wave of awareness. Eleanor wanted so much to please him. She would be everything he wanted her to be. And yet she didn’t know what that was. These sensations were so new, and so different from what she had previously understood about intimacy, that she was unsure how to be what he wanted.
‘Eleanor, are you well?’
‘Of course—why do you ask?’
‘You are rigidly still,’ he whispered. ‘Am I doing something not to your liking?’ He smiled as he stroked and kissed her neck.
‘No, no, everything is well.’
‘Good,’ he said as he grazed his lips over her shoulders, collarbone and chest, moving further down her body.
Her breath hitched.
‘You’re doing it again,’ he said, nipping the inside of her palm.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’m doing this right.’
Hugh stopped and smiled at her. ‘Believe me, there’s no right and wrong. Not in this and not between us.’
Eleanor returned his smile. ‘Are you saying you’d rather I was ruthlessly dextrous here as well?’
‘Possibly!’ He chuckled, a deep throaty sound. ‘Tell me, am I to teach you about bed sport as well?’
‘Actually, yes,’ she said, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘I wish to know how to please you.’
Hugh lifted his head and gave her a tender look. ‘We could try to please one another.’
‘How do I...? Oh... Oh!’ Eleanor moaned as he kissed and caressed the tops of her breasts. ‘Hugh, it’s difficult for me to know what to think when you’re doing that.’
He continued to kiss and caress her, moving lower. ‘Then don’t think.’
‘But I don’t know...’
‘Hush, no more talking.’ His mouth brushed over her breasts, one and then the other, teasing with his lips and his tongue. ‘Just trust in every sensation, every feeling.’
‘You are still talking...’ she said breathlessly.
‘I’m allowed.’ His hands and mouth ventured further down, following every soft curve of her body. ‘I’m the tutor, remember?’ he whispered, stroking and caressing.
Every graze of his lips and tongue across her breasts, stomach and thighs wound her tighter as heat spread through her, rendering her speechless and without a single thought. Every touch made her lose herself more in a heady sensuality filled with carnal curiosity and raw need.
She heard a soft moan permeate the room, filled with pleasure, and realised the noise was escaping from her own lips. Her hands needed to explore, needed to feel... They ran down the smooth, hard contours of his shoulders, the sinewy muscles of his back.
He kissed her lips again as he slowly edged her legs apart with his own. ‘Look at me, Eleanor,’ he rasped, his eyes glittering with emotion. ‘We please one another,’ he whispered as he entered her, making her gasp. ‘Always...’
He stilled, allowing her to get used to him, and pushed aside a strand of hair that had pasted itself to her forehead. He stroked her cheek and Eleanor snaked her hands around Hugh’s neck and pulled him towards her.
‘Yes,’ she murmured breathlessly as she pressed her lips to his and tentatively dipped her tongue into his mouth.
Eleanor heard Hugh growl in response, meeting her tongue measure for measure, and then he started to thrust inside her.
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his buttocks, feeling stretched, arching her back. He was hard and frantic, surging and retreating, gathering pace, taking her to a higher plane, wordlessly asking her to be brave enough to give herself to him as he was to her. It was true and honest, their mutual ardour, and it made her want to shout out from the top of the castle battlements.
‘Open your eyes, Eleanor,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I want to see you.’
He kissed her, nipping and pulling at her plump bottom lip with his teeth so softly that she could have melted as the tension escalating in her body begged for release.
‘Hugh!’ she cried, and she suddenly felt as though she were floating in a whirl of ecstasy.
He continued to thrust inside her, his eyes locked with hers, holding on to the moment. Eleanor reached out and stroked his jaw with her fingers just as Hugh reached his peak, his body shuddering and collapsing on top of her.
Their bodies entwined, their breathing ragged, they lay there sated in a tangle, unable to move. Until finally Hugh lifted himself off her and kissed the top of her nose. He moved beside her, pulling her close and wrapping the coverlet around them.
A calm silence pervaded the room. The peaceful cocoon that wrapped around them was strangely comforting, and Eleanor was all at once aware of Hugh’s nearness—his smell, his touch, his body pressed next to her side. His arms tightened around her waist as she lay on her back, her body still reeling in the aftermath of what had just passed between them. She felt self-conscious, not wanting to expose more than she already had.
‘Well, that was...’ Hugh took a shaky breath, breaking the silence. ‘Unexpected, and yet...wonderful.’ He rolled onto his side and watched her. ‘Are you well, Eleanor?’ he whispered as he gently caressed her cheek.
‘Yes, I am.’ She turned her head and smiled, meeting his gaze. ‘And now the covenant of our vows is complete. We are truly married.’
‘We have been married for some time, sweetheart,’ Hugh said, kissing her forehead, ‘But, yes, we are truly married.’ He rose out of bed, pulling on his braies. ‘Stay—don’t move, Eleanor. I’m going to see about getting us some food. I have suddenly built up a huge appetite.’
‘Wait,’ she said, sitting up and then recalling that she was in no state to get out of bed. ‘If you allow me to dress, I will attend to it.’
‘No, stay where you are. I’ll get the trencher that was left in the antechamber. Don’t go anywhere.’
He smiled at her before leaving.
As soon as he had gone Eleanor sprang into action, hastily refreshing and readying herself for his return. Pulling a linen chemise over her head, she put on a green woollen kirtle the colour of crisp apples—the exact shade of Hugh’s eyes.
She smiled to herself as she reflected on the way his eyes had smouldered, and his lips had left delicious, sensuous imprints all over her body. He had been incredibly tender and given her so much pleasure, making her experience of this new intimacy so, so good.
Oh, Hugh...
Eleanor’s feelings for him had changed and grown, and yet she had to remind herself be cautious. She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow herself to get too close to him and she had to stand firm. But it was not easy. None of this was easy.
Hugh returned, carrying a trencher of food: cuts of cooked cold chicken and ham, delicate cheese pastries, soft bread rolls and a small pot of apple and mead pickle.
‘I come bearing gifts that should fortify us,’ he announced, and Eleanor went to the coffer and poured two mugs of ale, passing one to him and taking a sip out of the other.
‘Thank you.’ He watched her over the rim of his mug and smiled mischievously. ‘But you needn’t have dressed, my lady.’
‘You would have me behave so wantonly?’
‘Aye—but only for my eyes to devour
and my lips to savour.’ He chuckled softly.
Eleanor felt herself blush and shook her head. ‘Really, Hugh, must you tease?’
‘Should I not?’ he asked innocently. ‘Now that I’m a proper husband, I thought it was my prerogative to tease you as much as possible.’
‘And there I was, believing you to be a gallant knight.’
Hugh took Eleanor’s mug from her and placed it on the coffer, along with his own, and pressed a kiss to her hand. ‘My gallantry is always assured.’
She arched her brows. ‘Is it, now? Well, I would never want to contradict such strongly held beliefs.’
‘Are you by any chance teasing me, my lady?’
The corners of her lips twitched. ‘Well, as a very proper wife, it is apparently my prerogative to tease my husband.’
He laughed, drawing her into his arms. Close to the bare chest and arms that he had yet to cover. ‘You may do so as often as you wish, Eleanor. Rather that, than cross swords with you.’
Had Hugh really said that? It was a very good thing that he could not see her face, hidden against his neck.
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Thank you, but for now if you could help lace up my kirtle...?’
She stepped out of his arms, turning her back to him, and shuddered as his fingers, lacing her garment, grazed against the fine chemise tunic covering her back.
‘You make me feel quite underdressed. Either that or I should just untie your kirtle again.’
‘No, I think not.’ She walked to the coffer, pouring more ale into both mugs. ‘Better if you address the situation as I have.’
‘Since I am as gallant as they say, I will comply,’ he said, fetching a dark red linen tunic and pulling it over his head. ‘But you know, Eleanor, there is no need to hide from me.’
Eleanor spilled a little of her drink on the coffer and snapped her head round to meet his eyes. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Come, let’s eat,’ he said as he perched on the small bench to one side of the hearth.
Eleanor sat beside him and passed him his mug, averting her eyes, watching the flickering and crackling of the fire as they shared the trencher of food. She felt her heart hammering against her chest, and was finding it hard to swallow down a bite of food.
The Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 12
