Eloping With The Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword)

by Robyn DeHart

  There was no denying, no pretending, what he wanted. He wanted desperately to spend the rest of the day exploring her every curve. But more than that he wanted to give her what she wanted. He would pleasure her until she forgot the wretched things those foul women had said.

  Chapter Eleven

  The moment Jason’s lips touched hers, the rest of the day faded away. Those foolish women and their treatment of her. Her feelings about being a princess. Right then she was merely Jason’s wife, and she wanted to shut off everything else and live only in that moment.

  His tongue slid against her bottom lip, and she opened to him. Desire poured through her, seemingly liquefying her bones so that she was pliant beneath him. She ran her hands up his chest, and he sucked in his breath. She buried her hands in his hair and pressed her breasts against his chest. He released a low moan, then she felt his hands grip her buttocks as he pulled her to him.

  “Oh God, I want you,” he said. His voice was low and deep, and his words shivered across her skin.

  I want you, too, she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare speak for fear that he’d abandon her once more. She knew she was putting her heart in harm’s way, but she would take full responsibility for the heartache that was certain to come.

  He pulled her to him again and kissed her fiercely. She busied herself with the front of his shirt and unbuttoned it the rest of the way, then ran her hands across the muscular hardness of his chest.

  “Your hands are so soft,” he said. “And warm.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a sensual kiss to the inside of her wrist. His mouth created delicious sensations on her arm.

  She tentatively leaned down and pressed her lips to his chest. His breathing stopped. She moved slightly, kissing her way across his torso. She felt invigorated, alive, and surprisingly powerful. He closed his eyes, and his jaw clenched in a sensual cadence.

  She ran her hand down his chest to the thin line of hair that disappeared into his trousers. She did not, however, get the opportunity to explore that curious line of hair. She’d barely touched it when Jason grabbed her arms and drew her down to the padded floor, clearly shifting the position of power.

  Desire surged through her. This would be a moment she’d never forget. He leaned down and trailed kisses across her neck down to her collarbone. She felt tingly all over, cold and hot at the same time. Sensations fired through her body, fighting for dominance. She didn’t know what to focus on, so she merely closed her eyes and ceased thinking.

  He peeled off her clothes, layer by layer, until she lay before him completely nude. She’d never been nude in front of anyone, save some servants. On one hand, she wanted to cover herself from him. Hide her flaws. But he sucked in his breath as he removed the last piece of clothing.

  “You’re exquisite,” he said. And her shame melted away. Instead of hiding, she wanted to spread her arms out and reveal herself fully.

  Exquisite. And she felt that way, too, regardless of her less than perfect areas, because he thought her exquisite. That was all the invitation she needed to rid him completely of his shirt. She moved next to his trousers, but before she could unfasten them, he stilled her hands. “Not yet. There is much I want to do to you first.”

  “But I want to see you,” she said.

  “And you will, but first, this.” He pushed her gently back onto the padding. He ran a hand from her ankle, up the side of her leg, over her hip, and there he paused. “The birthmark.” His fingers traced the wine-stain mark that had been with her since birth. “It’s rather alluring. Shaped somewhat like a butterfly.”

  She pressed her head back onto the floor and closed her eyes. His hand continued traveling across her abdomen, up her torso until it rested on her right breast. He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth, and she nearly levitated off the floor. The warm sensation shot pleasure down her chest, pooling between her thighs. She felt the moisture gather there. The same had happened when he’d kissed her those few times. She was aroused, she knew enough to know that, and her body was preparing itself for him.

  His hand rubbed against her left breast while he licked and nibbled her right. She squirmed about, never knowing exactly what position was perfect or where to put her hands. She felt out of control and disordered, as if only he had the power to make her body obey, as if she’d lost that privilege.

  His hands and his mouth on her breasts felt so good, she would have allowed him to do that for the rest of her life, but his hand moved away. Trailing down her torso, he moved it slowly to her belly. Then down, farther, farther, until it rested on her hip. He left it there a moment, and she nearly forgot about it until she felt his hand creep across her hip to her most intimate place.

  He passed his fingers softly through her hair, and she cried out. Goodness, but he created heavenly sensations. Something built inside her, making it increasingly more difficult to lie still. Her body bucked and squirmed and rocked against him, trying to find the right spot.

  His hand slid down to the juncture of her thighs, and she parted her legs for him. He ran his fingers against her inner thigh, closer and closer until he touched her core.

  “Jason,” she breathed. “That feels so good.” She wanted to say more, but words were becoming increasingly more difficult to string together into complete sentences. Her thoughts weren’t coherent.

  His fingers continued to move in her nether regions, until she felt one slip inside. She moaned loudly. In and out. In and out, he moved it. That spiraling feeling built to an even greater point, and she lost her rhythm to capture whatever might be around the corner. “Oh my goodness,” she managed to say.

  He brought his mouth back down on her breast while his hand continued its magic down below. Stronger and stronger the feeling became, until she thought she couldn’t take it anymore. Something was coming, she could feel it. What, she wasn’t certain, but she knew it would be intensely pleasurable.

  She rocked her body against him as he sucked hard on her nipple. It felt as if cool water shot through her veins, and then a tight explosion pulsed through her. She tossed her head back and cried out as the pleasure overtook her. He stopped moving his hand, and pressed sweet kisses against her breast, then her cheek.

  “That was beautiful,” he said.

  She managed to open her eyes and met his blue gaze. “Amazing.” He lay down on his side next to her. Her eyes trailed the length of him, and she could readily see his desire pressing against his trousers. He had given her pleasure and taken none for himself.

  She let her hands wander up his chest and around his back. Hard and sinewy, she doubted she’d ever get enough of touching him.

  She reached between them, running her hands down his ridged abdomen. His muscles contracted beneath her touch. He unfastened his trousers and removed the rest of his clothes. Then led her hand to his arousal. Tentatively, she ran two fingers softly up the length of him. He closed his eyes and groaned.

  Again and again, she ran her fingers up and down his length. The skin was velvety soft, while the member itself was stone hard. Growing bolder, she wrapped her hand around him and moved it back and forth. He moaned with each of her movements, never opening his eyes.

  “Harder,” he said, his voice tight.

  She did as he bade and her breath hitched just as his did. The power to arouse him so was heady.

  “Don’t stop,” he told her as he rolled to his back. He pulled her partially onto him, enough so that he could reach her breast and mouth. His finger flicked against her nipple and he moaned into her mouth as she moved her hand against him. His groan of pleasure spurred her on and she intensified her movement. He deepened their kiss and cupped her breast.

  “Isabel,” he cried as he lost his seed in her hand.

  Isabel lay in a warm cocoon of coverlets that she shared with Jason. At some point, while she slept, he must have retrieved blankets for them, but he hadn’t left her here alone. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that last night had const
ituted a full consummation, but it was a start. If he was willing to touch her, pleasure her, and let her do the same to him, then eventually he’d make her his wife, in every sense of the word. She snuggled back into his embrace and closed her eyes. Tomorrow would begin their life together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jason awoke to Isabel’s warm curves pressed deliciously against him. Instinctively he pulled her closer. He grew heavy with want for her all over again. It was morning, though he knew the sun had not yet risen, as darkness still permeated the small windows that lined the upper walls. Isabel was amazing. Passionate and beautiful and intelligent and physically strong. He’d never expected to find such qualities in a woman and yet, here she was, his wife.

  He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her hair. He was behaving like a lovesick fool. Is that what had happened? Was he falling in love with his wife? No, that couldn’t be it. He barely knew her. He knew one thing. He needed to separate himself from her before he did something he regretted.

  He’d left her nestled in the blankets he had wrapped around them. He’d done his best to wash the memory of their shared night from his skin, trying to rid himself of the images of her in the throes of her release. Though he suspected that picture was forever imprinted on his mind. He’d found his way down to his study where he’d poured himself a drink. He never drank in the mornings, but today seemed the perfect time to start.

  He’d managed to control his desires with her last night, but in doing so it seemed he’d weakened his mind so much he’d woken up fancying that he had fallen in love with her. Ridiculous. It was obvious his desire was playing tricks with his mind.

  He needed to pound on someone, but he couldn’t very well go upstairs and work his body so hard he forgot everything but the feel of his muscles. Isabel was likely still snuggled up there in his sanctuary. He downed the brandy and shook his head against its sharpness. He swore.

  “I would have thought this morning would bring more pleasantries than that,” Isabel said from behind him. Her voice purred over his skin as effectively as if she’d touched him. What the devil was the matter with him? He’d never had a woman affect him so strongly. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before turning to face her.

  By then she’d closed most of the distance between them and stood so close, he nearly stumbled backward. How could this slip of a woman affect him so?

  “Did you get disturbing news?” she asked, her head tilted and her hair, which remained tousled from their makeshift bed, framing her face in the most perfect way.

  She was ridiculously beautiful. Her brows rose, reminding him she’d asked him a question.

  “What? No, nothing such as that,” he said.

  She smiled slowly, seductively. “I was surprised you were gone when I awoke.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  She bit down on her lip, eyed him for a moment, then reached out as if to touch him, but he effectively dodged her, moving away. He moved to his desk to sort through the post, though he already knew what each contained since he’d read them the day before. But he still was uncertain if he could maintain control now.

  “Jason? Last night—”

  “Yes?” he asked.

  She came to stand across the desk from him. Something close to sadness filled her eyes, but she quickly masked it and offered him a smile. “It was very nice.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I realize I’m inexperienced, but I was expecting there to be…more,” she said.

  “There is more, much more, and we shall explore that another time.” Again, he looked down at the letters and invitations, their ink blurring as he stared.

  “Then you do intend to consummate our marriage?”

  He released a slow breath. “Not precisely.”

  She was silent for a moment; a frown weighed heavy on her brow. “I don’t understand. Am I not your wife? Should I not, then, be your wife in every way?” Her chin rose ever so slightly, and in that moment, as disheveled as she was, she looked every bit the royal princess she truly was.

  It was precisely the reminder he needed to stand firm in this. “There is much that you do not understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.” Her arms crossed over her chest.

  But, damnation, he didn’t want to tell her the truth, didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes, not when he’d found a way for them to enjoy each other’s bodies. “Can you not be happy with our marriage the way it is?”

  “The way it is? How you ignore me some of the time, then drive me to madness with your kisses other moments? No, Jason, I cannot be happy with that.” She shook her head. “Why must our marriage be like this? Because you did not select me? Because you were forced to marry me out of some sense of patriotic duty?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he said.

  “Then tell me. You owe me that much.”

  She was right, he did owe her that, but her knowing the truth about him would change everything. It would likely break the fragile connection they’d formed last night, though he continuing to keep secrets from her would almost certainly do the same.

  “I am not who you think I am, Isabel.”

  “You are not Lord Ellis?”

  “I am.”

  Her frown increased. “You are making no sense.”

  “There are secrets in this family, secrets that would change everything,” he said, knowing his voice had faded to a whisper. He wanted to tell her. Wanted her to know the truth about him. More than that, he wanted her to not care.

  “I care not if your family has secrets. My entire life has been a secret from me. All that matters is who we are right now.” She took a step toward him. “Who we are together.” Her voice softened, and the tenderness and vulnerability in her face was nearly his undoing.

  “We cannot fully consummate our marriage.” He wiped a hand down his face. “I cannot risk producing a child.”

  Her hand fell to her stomach, and a soft grin spread to her lips. “Whyever not? A child—that would be wonderful.”

  “No, it would not. A child would ruin everything.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  He turned his back to her and simply let the words fall. “I am a bastard, Isabel. Of course no one, save myself and my mother, knows, which is why I’m able to retain the title of viscount.”

  “Then why does it matter?” she asked.

  “My brother is the rightful heir, but he cannot take his place without this secret getting out and tarnishing the Ellis name, scandalizing him and his children and my mother, else I would shout it from the rooftops.” He released a tight breath. “Because of this injustice, it has always been my intent to die without an heir so that the title would eventually return to its rightful hands. I have ruined everything.” He was met with silence. He didn’t dare turn and face her; he didn’t want to see the look of revulsion on her face.

  “You’re right, you are a bastard,” she finally said. “A selfish bastard.”

  Jason closed his eyes, listening to her footfalls as she walked away, knowing that he’d just ruined his last hope at happiness.

  Jason didn’t think he’d ever been quite so thankful to be called to a meeting of the Brotherhood. Isabel’s rejection hadn’t been surprising, nor unwarranted, but oddly enough it had been disheartening. What had he expected? Her to pull him into her arms and tell him it mattered not that he was a bastard? She was a princess, and even she knew she deserved better.

  He stepped into Somersby’s parlor. Lynford and Somersby already sat, deep in conversation with Randow, one of their members who tended to handle situations outside of London.

  “Gentlemen,” Jason said as he breached their inner circle.

  “Ellis,” Somersby said, popping him on the back. “How is wedded bliss?”

  “Blissful,” Jason said.

  Somersby chuckled and shot Lynford a knowing glance.

  “Do we have news?” Jason asked.

  “We
do,” Somersby said. “We’re waiting on one more”—the door opened—“and here he is.”

  A man Jason did not know entered the room.

  “Ellis, this is Ben Crowder. He’s been doing some investigation for us out in Dover,” Somersby said. “Ben, I believe you know everyone else.”

  Ben nodded, and they all took seats.

  “To fill you in on some of what has been progressing, Ellis,” Lynford said, “I met with Somersby recently to give him my full report of the altercation with Thornton that resulted in my injury.”

  Only Lynford would explain getting shot in such a manner. Jason nodded for him to continue.

  “While I was incapacitated, I was cared for by one of the many men who work for the Brotherhood behind the scenes, as it were. Those members who are not of noble birth but who are noble in action and deed. It seems archaic of us to prevent them full membership among us simply because of the nature of their birth. Ben, here, is one such man. His attention to detail and connections in parts of the country have made him an invaluable asset to us.”

  “Based on Lynford’s recommendation, we’re putting it to a vote at the next full meeting,” Somersby said. “It would increase our resources tenfold.” He shook his head. “I’m not certain why we didn’t consider it before.”

  Jason certainly couldn’t argue, even if he’d wanted to. In effect, Lynford had just made Jason an official member of the Brotherhood without even realizing it, if such a vote passed. But no one in this room knew Jason’s secret. Before he could comment one way or another, Somersby spoke.

  “Ben, why don’t you fill us in on the details of your most recent intelligence?”

  The man cleared his throat. “We’d been keeping a steady look out for the Speaker of the House of Commons when I crossed a lead that indicated he might be in the Dover area.”

  “Did you find him?” Jason asked, unable to wait for the complete story to unfold.