“You should,” she whispered.
“What happened in your past, Arleigh? Was it so bad you have to bury your passion in a death curse? Are you going to deny yourself love for the rest of your life? Who took your control and did this to you? Why did you have to create this Leanan sidhe to protect you?”
“Why won’t you believe me? Why are you asking me questions?”
He pushed against her again. “I’m trying to make you understand. This isn’t a game. This isn’t about a time long ago when you say you had power, and I’m not buying into superstition. You’re not in control right now. I am. We can get rid of your virginity right now.”
He yanked at her skirt, drawing it up her legs, and Arleigh stiffened beneath him, clutching his hand. He stared at her, waiting for her decision, waiting for her to say no. Her hand loosened a little. She looked suspicious. Not of him but of something else. She released his hand, and when she made no move to stop him, he lifted the skirt higher. Her fingers traced a line across his cheek.
“I’m frightened. If we do this, I could lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere. But you will lose your virginity if you keep this up. Make your decision, Arleigh. Is this what you really want?”
He didn’t give her time to answer. He slammed his mouth against hers, and his lips swallowed hers, lightning fast. Her lips opened, willingly, breathlessly. Her hips rose to meet his and she gripped him tighter. Her heart thumped erratically beneath him. He kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping through her mouth, and she whimpered. He pulled at her shirt, and his mouth sought out her breast, tasting her, savoring the sweetness of her body. He pulled the nipple into his mouth. Her arms twisted around his neck.
“Be sure,” he whispered. “I don’t want to force you, honey. I don’t want to own you.”
“You already do.”
“There are other ways to own a person.” He pressed kisses against her fluttering pulse. “It has to be good for both of us.”
She breathed against his neck, and his pulse raced. “It will be.”
He lifted his face and studied her. “Someday it will be, but you came in here to seduce me because of last night. Right now you’re moving on instinct, swept up in this power you claim you had. You see a man to conquer. I want you to see me.”
“I do see you,” she whispered.
“Not yet,” he said, “but you will. I want the choice to come from your heart, Arleigh, not from your insecurity.”
He pressed himself harder against her. The gauzy barrier between them stretched, allowing him closer. A rush of moisture leaked from her pussy, and he felt the wet stain of it against his boxers. Damn, he was a fool. It would be so easy to slide inside, to make her his, to fill this woman and bind them together.
“You don’t have power over me, Arleigh. Right now I have the advantage, and if you’re not careful, the choice will be taken from you. I won’t mean to take it, but I will, because I’m losing control around you.”
He tore himself away from her and pulled her to her feet. She reached for him, but he took a step backward.
“I don’t want control. I want us to be lost in each other. I want it to be real.”
“I want it to be real too,” Arleigh said. “But I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Then we have a real problem,” Ryder said, “and living in this house together is going to get very uncomfortable.”
“You won’t change your mind?”
Ryder shook his head.
“Not even to get rid of that,” Arleigh asked. Her gaze fluttered down between his legs.
“No,” he said. “Sex isn’t enough, Arleigh. Whatever this is goes beyond sex. I’ll live with this ache until you decide. I want everything or nothing at all.”
“Nothing?” she echoed.
“I want all of you. When you think you can give it to me, we’ll talk again.”
Arleigh sighed. “Great. Just great.”
Chapter 19
Arleigh nearly dropped the buckets when she struggled through the door of the cottage. He sat exactly where she’d left him, at the table with Stephen’s little shaving glass and razor. He meticulously dipped his razor into a bowl of warm water and sliced it across his face in smooth, even strokes. She liked the new growth of beard on his face, but he said it itched.
“Are you e’er going to do any work around here?” Arleigh asked.
“Master, remember?” he muttered around the razor.
“Stephen did work around here, and he ne’er had time for such frivolous things. ’Tis a natural thing to have a beard, Ryder. Most men have them.”
“Not me.”
Ryder ran his hand across his cheek, sighing, enjoying the feel of the smooth skin. She wished she could feel it. He peered into the foggy little glass and swiped the razor across his chin. Arleigh carried the buckets to the hearth while he ignored her.
“Have you done something to your hair?” Arleigh asked.
He had tied it at his neck with a piece of ribbon. Had he been going through her things? She planned to set him straight about that right now. What right did he have—?
“Do I question you about your grooming habits?” Ryder asked. “For instance, when did you last take a bath?”
“I wash up every day. Do I look dirty?” She bent her head and sniffed under her arm. “Do I smell odd?”
“No, just curious. You always smell great.”
Ryder dipped his hands into his bowl of water and splashed it on his face. He held out his hand, blinking drops from his lashes. “Towel.”
Arleigh grabbed a cloth and hurled it toward him. “Am I your personal maid now?”
Ryder dried his face and gave her a smile. “We have to find some sort of compromise between us, Arleigh. I told you that living together in this cottage would be uncomfortable. I’ve decided the best thing to do is train you to do your job.”
“I’ve been doing this job for six months.”
He leaned back and folded his arms. “Frankly, you suck at it. Lesson One. Don’t question me on everything I ask you to do. Lesson Two. Don’t presume I don’t do anything around here. It’s not your business. And Lesson Three.” He nodded toward the hearth. “You should be heating up that water so I can have warm water to bathe in. I’m master of this little piece of heaven. I’m entitled to a hot bath, don’t you think?”
“Stephen washed in the river.”
“I’m not Stephen. Start heating the water, and I’m going to need a lot more than that.” He gestured toward the buckets. “I’m a big guy. Where’s the tub?”
When she waved her toward the bedroom, muttering, “under the stairs,” Ryder rose from the table. “I’ll get the tub. You finish with the water.”
Arleigh dumped the water into the large pot and swung it over the hearth, snarling and grumbling. Who did the man think he was? Giving her orders. Making her his own personal servant. Stephen had never treated her this way. Stephen had never interfered in anything she did, never offered advice on how to complete a task, never even suggested what tasks she should perform.
He came out of the bedroom and dropped the tub to the hearth stones.
“I don’t mind your talking out loud, Arleigh, but I’ll remind you again. Stephen had you on some kind of pedestal. I’m not Stephen.”
“Stephen was nice to me,” she muttered.
He untied the string of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Arleigh watched him from the corner of her eye.
“I’m nice to you. Sometimes nicer than you deserve.”
Arleigh grunted. Ryder kicked off his shoes, pulled off the stockings, and had begun to unlace his breeches when she spun around, hands on hips.
“Do you have to do that now?”
He paused. “Do you have a problem with it?”
“Numerous problems,” Arleigh snapped. “You could have the decency to wait till I’ve left the room.”
“You’ve seen it all before.”
/> “No, ’twas dark.”
He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. A nearly naked man stood in her keeping room, in broad daylight. It was not the same as touching him, holding him, yearning for the intimacy between them, and wringing moans from a mouth that stirred her with kisses. It was not the same as feeling his muscles beneath her hands, wanting those strong legs to cover hers, or running her hands across his flesh. He tossed his clothes about cavalierly, like the beauty of his body would have no impact on her whatsoever. He treated her like a servant who should have no thoughts of his body at all.
“’Tis not the same,” she repeated.
He moved toward her, his breeches slipping down his hips. In another few steps, he would lose them entirely. She ran her glance down his body, and when he spoke, her eyes darted to his.
“It could be the same.” His hands reached out and plucked at the laces of her bodice. “We could have a much more intimate relationship.”
Arleigh wrapped her hand around his. “As your property?”
“No, as my lover.”
“But I’ve already offered.”
Ryder dropped his hand and took a step back. “You know what my stipulations are. No excuses, no delusions, no reservations. Real emotions between two people. When you can do that, you won’t be able to keep me away.”
He let his breeches drop to the floor. The smile that spread across his face ripped through her, and tiny dimples appeared in his cheeks. Did Ryder Kendall get everything he wanted in life with that smile? Oh, she had no doubt he did.
“Until then, honey, you’ll have to deal with it.”
Arleigh gulped, and a furious heat spread through her body. Bloody hell. Seeing every inch of him unnerved her. The man was impossibly beautiful. He planted his hands on his hips, his pelvis cocked at an angle that was disturbingly sensual. With the hair falling across his eyes and that childlike smile on a smooth face, he looked like a little boy with a delightful secret, but that stance…oh, definitely all man. Seductive. Suggestive. Provocative. A challenge sparkled in his eye, a dare she wanted to accept. What did he want from her that she hadn’t offered? What words did he need to hear? She wanted that body. She wanted him.
He waited for her to say something. That amused glint in his eye would soon turn into a roar of laughter at her expense, because she now blushed and stammered, at a total loss for words. She could think of nothing to say except, “Please, Ryder, end this. Take me to the bedroom. Make me yours.” But to do that, she would have to admit something she could never do. She would have to tell him everything she had ever said had been a lie. So she stared and held her breath against the flood of longing that raced through her.
What kind of hold did this man have over her? What did she have to do to make him hers?
“Get your own damn water,” she snarled.
She grabbed her collecting basket from the table and fled through the cottage door. When she slammed it behind her, he roared with laughter.
* * * *
Preoccupied all through supper, Ryder ate his stew over a sheath of parchments that were now covered in gravy stains. He scribbled sporadically, like his problems could be solved by the mere application of ink at regular intervals. Ryder appeared to have been educated, yet his awkwardness with the quill amazed her. And he was messy. Column after column of undecipherable words covered the pages, smearing with blots of ink. Each time a drop splashed onto his illegible handwriting, Ryder snarled and cursed as if the world had ended. His fingers were covered with ink stains.
When he emptied his bowl, she refilled it, and he ate. When she put some bread down in front of him, he wolfed it down, all the while scribbling and pawing through the ledgers stacked in front of him. A man on a mission, he didn’t even seem to know she occupied the same room.
She cleaned the table around his mess, washed the dishes, and had hauled in four buckets of water before he finally glanced up at her. He fumbled through the stacks and pulled one out from the bottom. The ledgers tumbled to the table with a loud thunk, nearly knocking over the ink well. He cursed some more then went back to scribbling.
She waited impatiently while her water heated, trying to make small talk, to get him to say anything, but after three “uh huhs” and one “okay,” she gave up. When she had the tub ready, she undressed, slowly. She made a great deal of noise, but she couldn’t get his attention without tossing her clothes onto the table or hitting him over the head, which she was very close to doing. She couldn’t win this battle with him if he ignored her. Finally she gave up. She grabbed the soap and stepped into the tub.
“What are you doing, Ryder?”
He continued to write, the scratch of the quill furious and purposeful. “When I see Flynn, I want a game plan.”
“Are you still trying to find a way to pay him back the money?”
Ryder pulled another sheath toward him, muttering, “I’ll find it. It’s here somewhere. I have to decide what we don’t need.”
“Believe me,” Arleigh said. “If we have it, we need it. ’Tis the way Stephen was.”
Ryder paused, his hand poised over the parchment. A drop of ink hung precariously at the tip of the quill then splattered to the page, warranting some kind of complaint.
“Damn it!” He grabbed at another sheet of parchment and blotted his page and finally tossed his answer over his shoulder. “He didn’t need you.”
Arleigh gave a little sigh. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. ’Tis no earthly reason anyone would need me. What could I possibly offer any man? But he was your brother. You must have some idea what motivated him.”
“Not a freaking clue,” Ryder said absently.
The man was bleeding impossible! Arleigh wanted to jump from the tub, fly across the room, and hit him. Oblivious, dense, blind! Would he ever look at her? She sat in a tub of water that hid nothing from his view, and he didn’t even want to see her naked? She had seen every inch of him, and it had been absolute torture. It seemed only right he be forced to see every inch of her again. How long should she freeze to death in a lukewarm tub of water, waiting for him to open his bloody eyes? She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice.
“You should probably give my indenture papers to Cameron. ’Tis what he wants.”
“I don’t give a shit what Flynn wants,” Ryder snapped.
A reaction? From the oblivious Ryder Kendall?
“’Twould solve all your problems. The debt would be gone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with me any longer. I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”
“You’re right about that.”
“I’ll go willingly, if that’s what you decide.”
He twisted on the bench and glanced at her. Arleigh ran the soap along her shoulder. His eyes widened, and she got the reaction she’d been hoping for. He nearly choked on the brandy he had dumped into his mouth. His voice sounded raspy, raw.
“Jesus, Arleigh.”
She blinked. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing?” He seemed to be choking, and she couldn’t have been happier.
“Taking a bath. Remember?”
“No,” he said softly. “I think I’d remember something like that.”
She laughed, waving her hand toward him. “I’m sorry I interrupted. Continue with your work.”
He nodded, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. His stare followed the soap, tracing a path across her shoulders, down her breasts, and along her torso into the water. He licked his lips then swept the back of his hand along his mouth, his eyes locked on the movement of her hand in the water. When she splashed water over herself and swept the foam from her skin, he watched her hands.
“You’re not working,” Arleigh said.
“You’re a little distracting.”
Arleigh smiled. “Think of me as another item in your ledger book, probably an unnecessary one. I’m a servant. Pretend I’m not even here.”
“Impossible,” he whispered.
She rose from the tub and swept her hands down her body, tossing water droplets into the air. She peeked at him to gauge his reaction. Oh, he watched. Good. Let him suffer.
No reason on earth a man should need me, Master Kendall. No reason at all. I hope you choke on your control.
Ryder stood up slowly from the table. He nearly stumbled into the bench. He moved toward the hearth, but his eyes never left her, and she almost laughed when his boot hit the brick. He reached out blindly to pick up one of the cloths that lay on the stones and knocked the pile over. He never even noticed. He held the cloth out, opening it so she could step into it. She climbed out of the tub, gave him a smile, and pushed her wet hair away from her face. When she stepped toward him, he pulled back a step, his glance sweeping over her with such ferocity she thought for a moment she might have gone too far. He seemed angry with her. His stare moved slowly across every inch of her, and the cloth dropped to the floor.
She held her breath.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did then waited. He swept her hair over her shoulder, and when his hands went around her waist, she leaned back against him. His hands slid down, cupping between her legs, up across her stomach, to gather her breasts. He squeezed her tight against him.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me? Do you have any idea what kinds of thoughts go through my head when I look at you?”
“Wicked thoughts?”
“They’re so wicked I’m ashamed to say them.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Arleigh said.
He thrust his pelvis against her bottom and leaned down to whisper in her ear. What she thought she heard sent a rush of heat through her body, and a blush rose in her cheeks. She had to be mistaken. She twisted her face toward him.
“Really?” she asked.
His brow rose, and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Really.”
“Is that even possible?” she asked.
“More than possible. It’s a certainty.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I could ne’er let you do that.”
His hands reached down to cup her bottom. His palms caressed her skin while his fingers dipped lower. The words he whispered in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. He continued to whisper, and her entire body caught fire. She stood wet and naked and should have been cold, but the heat that poured from her should have made him burst into flame. His hands roamed across her skin, finding pieces of her that were hidden, pieces of her that shouldn’t be touched, pieces of her that made her want turn in his arms and beg him to take her on the floor. His fingers slid between her pussy lips and softly stroked her skin, coming to rest on the knob of flesh he’d touched the first night. Holy Saints. Her body trembled.
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 21
