“Ah,” Amber said. “Does my hair truly burn you so sweetly? Then I give it to you, husband.”
Before Duncan could say anything, her hands lifted quickly and bright combs scattered to the floor. Knowing he shouldn’t unable to stop himself, Duncan thrust his hands deeply into Amber’s hair until cool, soft strands caressed the sensitive skin between his fingers.
A shiver of pure pleasure cascaded through Amber. Watching Duncan’s eyes, she moved her head slowly, increasing the beloved pressure of his hands.
“Do you like that,” he asked, “or is it my pleasure you’re responding to?”
“Both,” she said huskily. “I like your hands caressing me. I like knowing that caressing me gives you pleasure.”
“Amber…” Duncan said, but he could say no more.
“Would it truly give you such great pleasure to feel my tongue tracing your sword?”
Duncan’s hands clenched in Amber’s hair. It would have been painful to her had she not felt his violent response to her words burn through her like wildfire.
“You are unraveling me,” he said hoarsely. “Where did an innocent like you learn the tricks of the harem?”
“From you.”
“Nay. I’ve never known a woman’s mouth in that way.”
“Yet when I said I would ravish you with my tongue, you saw my hair all wild over your naked loins and my tongue was a pink flame licking over you.”
The desire that hammered through Duncan nearly brought both of them to their knees.
“Amber, you must stop!”
The roughness in Duncan’s voice was another rush of desire through her.
“Nay,” she whispered. “I find I am most curious to know what it is like to ravish you with my tongue. And, perhaps, my teeth?”
Duncan groaned and his fingers clenched again.
Amber made a ragged sound of pleasure as her words returned to her in an outpouring of his passion.
“Don’t say such things,” he muttered. “You will make me lose all control.”
“But I like feeling fire sweep through you.”
Abruptly, Duncan let go of Amber and stepped back so that he wasn’t touching her.
“That’s just it,” he said, his voice tight. “The fire is going through me, not you.”
The lack of Duncan’s touch was like being dropped into an icy stream. Amber staggered, off-balance, lost.
“Duncan?” she said, reaching for him
“No,” he said, stepping back even farther.
“I don’t understand.”
“Exactly. All you have ever known is a warrior’s hunger hammering you until you bled. You’ve never known your own sweet desire.”
“That’s not true. Your desire and mine are different faces of the same coin.”
Duncan raked his hand through his hair, then unfastened his rich mantle and tossed it aside.
“No,” he said, turning back to her. “My desire drowns yours. It would be the same for you with any man.”
At first Amber didn’t understand.
When she did, she was furious. Her eyes narrowed to slits.
“You believe I have no passion that isn’t secondhand, is that it?” she asked carefully.
He nodded.
“You believe that any man who touched me with passion would set fire to me.”
Duncan hesitated, then nodded again.
“You shame both of us,” Amber said icily, making no attempt to conceal her rage.
He started to speak, but she overrode him, clipping each word as though it were thread in a finished weaving.
“Thrice in my life I have felt a man’s passion. The first time I ran like a deer until I was safe. Then I knelt and vomited until I was too weak to stand.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
Duncan said something vile beneath his breath.
“At that age, you were too young to respond to passion,” he said. “But now that you are old enough—”
“The second time,” Amber interrupted, “I was nineteen. More than old enough to respond to passion, wouldn’t you agree?”
Duncan shrugged.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” she persisted.
“Yes,” he said, his voice harsh. “And you did, didn’t you?”
“Respond with passion?”
He nodded curtly.
“Oh, yes,” Amber said. “I was consumed by passion—”
Duncan’s mouth flattened.
“—if you concede that anger and loathing are passions,” she said sardonically. “I drew my dagger, stabbed the hand that was groping under my skirt, and ran until I was safe. Then I vomited until I was too weak to swallow.”
“Who were those animals?” Duncan demanded.
“The third time I felt a man’s passion,” Amber continued, ignoring Duncan’s question, “a stranger’s hand was tangled in my hair and chills of golden pleasure coursed through me.”
“A stranger?”
“You.”
“I don’t understand,” Duncan said.
“Neither do I, but ’tis true just the same. The first time I touched you, I felt a pleasure so keen that I cried out.”
“It was my desire you were feeling, not your own.”
“You were senseless at the time,” Amber retorted.
Duncan’s eyes widened. The reflected leap of candle flame made them appear almost as golden as Amber’s eyes.
“What are you saying?” he whispered.
“I touched you, I knew you, and I wanted you. You were senseless, knowing nothing, remembering nothing, and fire curled through me when I ran my hands over your chest.”
The sound Duncan made could have been Amber’s name or a low sound of hunger, or both urgently mingled.
“I was made for you,” Amber said, unfastening her mantle. “You and you alone. Won’t you take what is yours and give me what is mine?”
“And what is that?” Duncan said.
But his smile and the thickening of his voice told Amber that he knew very well what was hers.
“We are joined in our souls,” she said softly. “Can our bodies do less?”
“Turn around, precious Amber.”
Uncertainly, she turned her back to Duncan. The feel of his fingers on her laces sent both desire and relief through her.
For a time there was no sound but the whisper of candle flames and the sigh of clothing as it was smoothed down warm flesh to fall in bright pools on the floor. Finally Amber wore nothing but her own warmth and firelight flickering over her skin.
Duncan’s finger traced the length of Amber’s back from nape to the shadowed cleft at the base of her spine. She held her breath.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His fingertip traced again, sliding slowly down until it must stop or be caught between lush, alluring curves. The trembling of Amber’s body and the raggedness of her breathing told Duncan that she did indeed enjoy the caress.
“Because I like it?” Duncan asked. “Is it my pleasure that makes your breath break or is it yours?”
“Both,” Amber said in a husky voice. “Your pleasure and mine combined.”
Again Duncan caressed the feminine line of back and hips, sliding more deeply into the shadow that tempted him mercilessly. He knew if he followed that dark curve he would find a place that was even softer than his dreams, hotter than his desire.
“I would like to feel that,” Duncan murmured.
“What?”
He smiled slightly. “My desire and yours combined.”
“Then take the gift of my body. Give me the gift of yours in return.”
“You have the poorer of the bargain.”
“Only because I am naked and you are clothed.”
The combination of tartness and passion in Amber’s voice made Duncan laugh softly.
“I will stay clothed for a while yet,” he said.
“Why?”
“Becaus
e that way, I might be able to keep from taking you like a green squire who can’t hold his seed long enough to see to his partner’s pleasure.”
Amber made a startled sound as Duncan bent and lifted her into his arms like a child. For one searing moment she felt the depth of his hunger. The next thing she knew, the fur bed cover was sleek and cool against her naked body and Duncan was no longer touching her.
When Duncan stretched out beside her, he was careful to ensure that there was no contact between them. Yet the fire in his eyes made Amber’s heart turn over. She became intensely aware that her nakedness was beautiful to him.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Duncan said in a low voice.
“How so? You are clothed and I am not.”
“Ah, but you touch me and you know how I feel. I touch you and know only how I feel.”
His hand reached out. A single fingertip circled one of Amber’s breasts at the exact point where smooth, pale skin gave way to velvety pink. Her breast tightened, sending streamers of fire to the pit of her stomach and beyond.
Smiling, Duncan watched Amber’s body change to meet his touch, her nipple gathering into a peak that was as tempting as wild strawberries to his tongue.
“I know how that affects me,” he said, “but I don’t know how it feels to you.”
A shiver of pleasure was Amber’s only answer.
“Tell me, golden witch. Tell me what my touch does to you.”
“It casts a net of fire over me.”
“It hurts you, then?”
“Only when you look at me and I know what we both want and you withhold it,” Amber said.
“What do we both want?” Duncan said. “This?”
He bent forward until his mustache almost grazed the tight crown of her breast. Almost, but not quite.
The difference was a lightning stroke of hunger going through Amber.
“Why do you tease me so?” she whispered.
“When I touch you, you feel my desire. If I’m not touching you, the only desire you feel will be your own.”
The warmth of Duncan’s breath washed over Amber’s sensitive skin. She arched upward only to have him evade her.
“Lie still, precious Amber. Or shall I do as you once did to me?”
“What?”
“Bind you with cords so that you can’t move.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Duncan’s smile was dark and a bit wolfish.
“I am your husband. Under the law of God and man, I may do as I wish with you.”
“And you wish to torture me,” Amber muttered.
“Very sweetly,” he agreed. “And very thoroughly.”
Amber was smiling as she settled back onto the fur cover. The leashed passion in her husband’s eyes intrigued her, as did the heightened awareness of her own body.
Saying nothing, Duncan gathered a handful of Amber’s long hair. Letting it trail like a scarf from his hand, he teased her breasts until both nipples were drawn into tight buds.
“Beautiful,” he said softly. “I ache to taste them, to feel them change with each stroke of my tongue. Do you remember how that felt?”
Fire splintered through Amber. She moved restlessly, wanting more than Duncan’s words and the tantalizing caresses that weren’t quite his flesh on hers.
“Do you remember?” Duncan asked again.
“Aye,” Amber whispered. “Like fire and warm rain together.”
Hair slid and stroked and teased Amber’s breasts until she made a small sound with each breath she took. Smiling, Duncan caressed down the center line of her body until long golden hair met hair that was darker, a warm thicket protecting the vulnerable flower within.
When the caress moved on, teasing the pale curves of her thighs, Amber’s fingers curled deeply into the fur. A tremor went through her, followed by another and another, until one knee flexed in helpless response.
“What do you feel?” Duncan asked.
“A chill that is hot rather than cold,” she whispered. “It makes me want to—”
Amber’s voice broke as the caress moved back up to the apex of her thighs, ruffling the hair so tenderly that she wanted to cry out her frustration.
“What do you want to do?” Duncan encouraged.
“Bite your hand for teasing me.”
He laughed and bent down, blowing against her belly and then her loins, teaching her that she hadn’t known what teasing was until that moment. The warm wash of his breath between her thighs sent flames searching through her body.
“Duncan, please.”
“Please what? You have to tell me, precious Amber. I’m not a sorcerer to know your soul at a touch.”
“I ache,” she said.
“Where?”
“Where you are teasing me.”
“And where is that?” he asked.
“Between my…my legs.”
“Ah.”
Smiling, Duncan shifted down the elegant length of Amber’s legs until his breath bathed her ankles.
“Better?” he asked.
Amber made an inarticulate sound that still managed to convey a resounding negative.
“No?” He smiled secretly. “Maybe it is here you ache.”
The warm, teasing exhalation of Duncan’s breath caressed Amber’s knees.
“There?” he asked.
“No,” she said huskily.
But Amber, too, was smiling, for in shifting position Duncan had brushed accidentally against her. Though the contact was barely more distinct than a breath, it swept through her like dawn through night, touching every part of her, teaching her about her husband and herself.
Duncan was enjoying his bride in ways that surprised even him. Though his hunger was a savage ache, it was chained by a greater need to explore the sensuous witch who lay watching him with smoldering eyes.
Knowing that, Amber felt less anxious about playing a lover’s game whose rules were unknown to her. Nor did she fear any longer that Duncan wouldn’t take her.
The need in him was all the greater for being so fiercely chained.
“Are you certain this isn’t the place?” Duncan asked. “I’m told a woman’s knees are quite sensitive.”
The words were accompanied by another immaterial caress that made Amber gasp, for she distinctly felt Duncan’s mustache as well as his breath between her knees.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
Amber nodded, making candlelight twist and twine like a lover in her long hair.
“I can’t hear you,” Duncan said.
“And I can’t feel you,” she said, watching him through half-lowered eyelids.
“Are you bargaining with me, wife?”
“Aye.”
“Then tell me precisely where you ache and I shall soothe you.”
Amber started to speak but her voice dried up.
“I…cannot,” she whispered.
Duncan saw the color rising from her breasts to her cheeks and understood.
“I keep forgetting,” he said in a low voice. “You fly so high, so quickly, yet you were a virgin only hours ago. Forgive me.”
“Only if you touch me.”
Duncan’s head came up. He looked into his bride’s eyes and saw his own hunger reflected.
Yet he wasn’t touching her.
“You want me,” he said.
The surprise in Duncan’s voice made Amber want to laugh and pummel him at the same time.
“Haven’t I been telling you just that?” she asked.
“But I thought it was my desire coursing through you.”
“Sometimes, dark warrior, you have a very thick skull.”
Duncan smiled and skimmed the back of his hand lightly over the triangle of dark golden curls.
“Is this where you ache?” he asked huskily.
The sound Amber made was ragged. The flexing of her knee was a silent invitation for greater intimacy.
Yet Duncan wanted more. He needed it. He had to be certain to his very
core that Amber was seduced by her own desire rather than overcome by his.
“If you want me within your warm keep, you must open the gate yourself.”
There was a hesitation, a broken sigh, and Amber shifted her legs.
Duncan unfastened his mantle and cast it aside.
“More,” Duncan whispered.
Amber moved again, though a flush of color was once more climbing up her cheeks.
With swift, impatient movements, Duncan undid his shirt and dropped it onto the floor. The hungry, approving look he received from his bride did nothing to cool the hot race of blood through his body.
Nor did the sight of his bride lying half opened before him, her skin gleaming like a pearl against the fur.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Still more,” he coaxed.
“Duncan…”
The word was half protest and half demand that he cease teasing her.
She shifted slowly, legs pale and elegant, trembling as she felt herself becoming more and more vulnerable with each motion of her legs.
Just as Duncan bent down to caress Amber, he saw faint marks on the otherwise flawless skin of her inner thighs. When he realized how she had come by those marks, his mouth flattened into a bitter downward curve.
“Your keep is still too well defended,” Duncan said. “The gate must be open wide. Very wide.”
Amber’s cheeks were fiery now.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Last time I forced your legs apart,” Duncan said in a low voice.
“Nay,” she said.
“Aye!” he countered savagely. “I can see the marks left by my hands.”
“But—”
“If you would have me lie between your legs, you must make room for me willingly, knowing only your own desire.”
Passion raked over Amber at the idea of once more having Duncan lie between her legs, of feeling ecstasy ravish him as he spent himself inside her.
A pulse of pleasure leaped and burst within Amber at the thought. Heat radiated up through her whole body as a secret rain softened her. With an inarticulate sound she opened herself fully, knowing only her own desire.
The blaze of Duncan’s eyes was an intimate caress. She made an odd sound as the net of fire tightened throughout her whole body, changing it to receive him. Her legs moved again, as though Duncan were inside her, sharing his body with her.
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