The Renegade's Heart

by Claire Delacroix

  The Elphine Queen was not to be underestimated. She could steal all of this from Isabella.

  But Isabella was not going to surrender Murdoch without a fight. Even now, the blue marks seemed more pale. His eyes were closer to the sapphire blue they had been when she had first met him, and that unruly twinkle lurked within them again.

  Isabella was not without power in this matter.

  And she would use it to win the heart of the knight she desired for her own.

  As she realized this, Murdoch unfastened the laces on either side of her kirtle, his hair falling over his brow in an unruly tumble as he worked them free of the eyelets. Isabella could not resist the urge to touch him, not when he stood so close to her and her nostrils were filled with the scent of his flesh.

  She ran her hand over his arms and shoulders, stretching to touch her lips to his as she felt his corded strength. He smiled and held her gaze as he pulled each lace free of the eyelets. When the laces were discarded, he slid his hands beneath the damp wool, as he had once before, but this time, he urged the weight of the garment over her head. He left Isabella standing before the fire in her chemise and hung the kirtle on the rafters to dry, spreading it with care.

  When he turned his back to her, Isabella knew she would surprise him. She tugged her white chemise over her head and discarded it, spinning to find Murdoch staring at her with wonder. She smiled at him, unashamed to face him in her stockings alone.

  “You are bold, my Isabella,” he whispered.

  “I would not have you forget our intent,” she teased and he laughed again.

  “There is no chance of that, my Isabella.” Murdoch stepped closer, his smile fading when he stood before her. He raised a hand to her cheek. “You look like a goddess wrought of copper and gold,” he whispered.

  Isabella shook her head. “I am merely a maiden of flesh and blood.” She smiled. “One with desire in her veins and no knowledge of what to do with it.”

  Murdoch’s nostrils flared, then he knelt before her. He lifted her foot, setting it upon his thigh, then ran his fingertips over the length of her legs. His light touch both tickled and aroused her, making her aware of her body in a new way. When he bent to kiss the soft flesh behind her knee, Isabella caught her breath in surprise. She felt the prickle of his whiskers and an unruly tingle that seemed to awaken her body to his touch.

  Murdoch locked one hand around her ankle, then bent to unfasten her garter with his teeth. The feel of his breath upon her skin made Isabella shiver and he chuckled. Isabella grasped his shoulders to ensure that she did not lose her balance. He slid the stocking down with gentle fingertips, following its course with a trail of kisses. He kissed every increment of her skin as it was revealed, leaving her shivering with desire.

  When he did the same to the other stocking, Isabella leaned back her head and closed her eyes. She knew she dug her fingers into his shoulders but Murdoch did not seem to mind. He persisted in his relentless caress, until her entire body seemed to hum. His tongue flicked against the side of her ankle, both tickling and arousing her. His hands slid over her calves, his kisses fluttered across her skin like a thousand butterflies. She loved the feel of his hands sliding up her legs and over her thighs and caught her breath when he gripped her buttocks in his hands.

  “Part your legs,” he commanded quietly. Isabella looked down to find him kneeling before her, his expression filled with mischief. His eyes shone, a sight so entrancing that Isabella could not look away. “One step either way will do it,” he continued softly. “Then lean your knees on my shoulders.” Murdoch smiled. “Fear not, my lady. I will not let you fall.”

  Isabella did not understand, but she trusted him. No sooner had she taken that step than Murdoch pressed a kiss to the tangle of hair at the junction of her thighs. Isabella inhaled sharply, but he tugged her closer. She was on the tips of her toes, her knees braced against his shoulders and her legs parted. As he had vowed, he held her captive in that pose, his forearms against her thighs and her weight supported against his shoulders. She had one glimpse of his satisfaction, then gasped when his mouth closed over her wet heat.

  Oh! Isabella had never anticipated such an intimacy. She caught her breath, then shuddered to her very toes as his tongue moved against her hidden pearl. He spread his hands, gripping her buttocks securely, and slid his tongue along the slickness of her. It was more gentle than his fingertips had been, more seductive and alluring.

  A new heat spread through Isabella from that tender point, surging along her veins and feeding her desire. She felt warm. She felt that her body was afire, that some pleasure simmered deep within her belly. She had never felt such a keen awareness of her body – or been so intent upon the touch of another.

  And Murdoch knew as much. He breathed against her. He laved her. He suckled her and Isabella could only hold on. She feared she would lose her balance and fall, but remembered Murdoch’s promise. Indeed, she was secure in his grip, braced in the position he had chosen. She could see that the muscles in his shoulders and arms were taut, holding her captive to his embrace.

  She smiled at the dark tangle of his hair, the leisure of his caress, as if he would make this moment stretch through all eternity. Each time the passion rose high within her, so high that she thought she would feel that release again, he paused then moved more gently again. He drove her higher with each assault, until she was aching with desire and yearning for more.

  When she thought she could bear his torment no longer, his tongue touched her secret heat with a new insistence that made her moan aloud. She wanted to know all that was possible, and she trusted Murdoch on this path. Isabella parted her legs more widely, inviting his touch, and cast her head back, surrendering to his lesson.

  She stretched her hands toward the ceiling and arched her back, tipping her head back and closing her eyes in wanton surrender. She welcomed all he would give her, and knew only that she would reciprocate in kind. The tide rose hot and furious within her, driven onward by Murdoch’s tongue and Isabella bucked her hips to coax him further. This time he did not halt.

  She had one chance to save Murdoch, and Isabella would not compromise. She would willingly surrender her all.

  * * *

  Isabella was more enticing than he could have imagined. It was her trust as much as her beauty that made Murdoch determined to woo her and to win her. She was strong and lithe in his grasp, and so responsive that he feared he could not last.

  When she leaned back, trusting him to hold her securely, he thought he might explode. He stole an upward glance and caught his breath at the sight of her breasts, those nipples rosy and taut, those breasts so ripe and creamy. Her hair cascaded down her back, snaring the firelight and gleaming like hammered copper. She was perfection. She moaned and he wanted to bury himself within her, claiming her this night for all time.

  But slowly. He would take it slowly.

  Even if the deed killed him.

  Isabella was wet and hot, the scent and taste of her arousal driving him to distraction. He was throbbing and hard himself, his erection straining against the laces on his chausses. Every move she made simply enflamed him further. He felt her shiver in delight. He heard her catch her breath. He felt the skip of her pulse and he sensed the quiver that began deep within her as he steadily coaxed her response. She trembled more vehemently, her flesh heating even beneath his hands. She became wetter and hotter, and still he would see her more so. He ate of her fruit and drank of her juices and knew there was no better feast in the world.

  He heard the low moan begin in Isabella’s throat and felt her clitoris become harder. He let his tongue move more vehemently against her, liking that Isabella did not flinch from the pleasure he would give her. He alternated gentleness with demand, urging her to greater heights. When her pulse leapt and her hips began to buck of their own accord, he knew she was close to finding her release.

  When her fingers dug deeply into his shoulders and she whispered his name, it was all he cou
ld do to remember his plan to ensure that she remembered this night always.

  Murdoch deliberately drove Isabella over the edge with one last potent stroke of his tongue. The lady shouted his name and trembled from head to toe as she found her release. The tempest lasted longer than he might have expected. He blew upon her and succeeding in making her release surge forth again. Murdoch held fast, feeling a greater sense of triumph in this than in any deed ever.

  When she looked down at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling, Murdoch could not keep from grinning at her.

  “Murdoch!” She said his name in an exhalation of wonder that had his erection straining even more against his chausses. She knelt down before him then and kissed him with ardor. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and she was in his arms, her passionate kiss making it hard for him to remember his intent to move slowly. “I had no idea,” she whispered.

  “That was the point.” He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, liking how it filled his grasp perfectly. “As if we were made each for the other,” he said and she smiled. Murdoch bent to kiss that inviting nipple. Isabella sighed contentment, then her hand fell to the lace of his chausses.

  “This is not fair,” she said, untying the knot with busy fingers. “You, too, must find your pleasure.” Her eyes danced as she looked at him. “Should I torment you in the same way?”

  Murdoch knew he would not last such a caress, not now when he burned with desire. Just the notion made him perilously close to losing control. “Not yet,” he said, his words uncommonly husky.

  Isabella smiled and ran one fingertip down the length of the laced front of his chausses. Murdoch gritted his teeth and caught his breath at her caress, well aware that she watched him avidly. “You like this,” she said softly.

  “A caress given willingly is nigh irresistible,” he managed to say and she smiled.

  Then she looked down at him and sobered. “I have never looked upon a man before,” she confessed. As if she had made a choice, her fingers began to make quick work of the lace. “Let me look upon you.”

  Before Murdoch could decide whether he should halt her or not, Isabella had parted the front of his chausses, freeing his erection. She considered him for a moment, biting her lip, and he wondered whether the deed ahead frightened her. What had she been told?

  Nothing that daunted this lady, it was clear. For Isabella’s warm hands slid beneath the cloth and over Murdoch’s hips, easing the garment from his body with an efficiency he associated with her. She gripped his buttocks just as he had seized hers, the touch of her small hands upon him making Murdoch dizzy.

  She bent to take him within her mouth, but Murdoch would not survive if she touched him.

  Murdoch caught her shoulders in his hands and kissed her, drawing her to her feet as he stood before her. Then he kicked his chausses aside, lifting his hands to invite her to look upon him. “And here is your chance to look,” he said, keeping his tone light. Murdoch turned before her, finding uncertainty in her eyes when he faced her once again. She looked only upon one part of him, a part of him that responded with vigor to her perusal. There was amusement in her eyes when he faced her again.

  “Will it fit?” she asked.

  Murdoch smiled. “It seems that we are each made for the other,” he said quietly.

  Isabella nodded. “And if that is so, you will fit.”

  “What have you been told of this deed?”

  “That a maiden bleeds, at least the first time, which would seem to indicate that the fit is not always an easy one.” Isabella met his gaze, her own shining. “I know nothing of what you just did, and it seems a marked omission.”

  Murdoch grinned.

  Isabella sobered then. “Also that if a man finds his release while so buried within a lady, a child may result.”

  “Is this what troubles you? A child?” Murdoch knew that he would do whatsoever was necessary to reassure her, even deny himself on this night. He felt suddenly that the shadow of the Elphine Queen was too close. If Isabella bore his child and he was lost, she would be shamed in truth.

  And he would leave his lady with a poor legacy.

  “No!” Isabella stepped closer. “Murdoch, I would proudly bear your child. Do not imagine otherwise.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, unable to think clearly when she appealed to him, so nude and so beautiful. “But Isabella, I would do you no disservice...”

  “For you are your father’s son,” she said, catching his face in her hands and compelling him to look at her again. “Show me, Murdoch. I will have no man but you in all my days, so this is your chance to show me this.” She smiled with mischief. “Otherwise I shall die in ignorance and I have no admiration of ignorance.”

  When Isabella stretched to kiss him, her breasts colliding with his chest, Murdoch could not deny her. He caught her closer, his resistance melting like snow in springtime.

  “We ease its way,” he promised long moments later, then swept her into his arms and returned to the pallet by the fire, kissing her all the while. To his relief, her passion rose again beneath the assault of his kisses. He laid beside her and smiled down at her, liking that she preened for him, instead of covering her nudity with her hands.

  He slid one hand down the length of her, then slipped his hand between her thighs. He touched her then, his fingers more bold than his tongue had been. Isabella sighed with pleasure and reached up to kiss him. Murdoch locked his other arm around her waist, holding her fast against him.

  He felt the slick heat gather more quickly and could feel her heart pounding against his chest. Isabella writhed against him in a most enticing way, the scent and the feel of her feeding his own desire. He moved his fingers with greater insistence, feeling the crescendo rise within her. He liked his growing awareness of her rhythms and knew that if they spent a lifetime loving each other, the deed would only become more satisfying.

  Just before Isabella might have found her release, he rolled to his back, carrying her with him. She sprawled atop him and Murdoch smiled as he tugged her knees so that she straddled him.

  “This way, you take me as quickly or as slowly as you desire,” he said softly. He moved so that he was barely inside her and caught his breath when her heat closed around him even that much.

  Isabella swallowed, her hands braced upon Murdoch’s shoulders.

  “Too big?” he asked, fearful of hurting her.

  Isabella smiled at him then. “I am fond of a challenge.” She took a breath, then eased lower to take another increment of him inside her. The sensation was exquisite. Murdoch thought he might explode with the pleasure. Isabella was so tight that he had to close his eyes and struggle for control.

  “Slowly,” Isabella said, her voice a little husky. “You said slowly was best.”

  Murdoch could only nod, because his bold maiden took another measure of him. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought to withhold the tide that grew within him.

  She clearly mistook his reaction, for she leaned over him with concern. “Does it hurt you?”

  “No! I but endeavor to proceed slowly and that may kill me.” He looked at her and found her smiling. “And you?”

  “No.” Isabella wriggled her hips in a way that prompted Murdoch to catch his breath. “I feel filled in a most curious way, but it does not hurt.” She rolled her hips again, exploring the sensation and Murdoch was certain he would die of pleasure.

  “Good,” Murdoch managed to say, although he scarce recognized his own voice. When she moved again, he locked his hands around her waist, uncertain he would be able to endure her welcome torment.

  When he was almost fully inside her, Isabella leaned forward, her hair spilling on to his chest like silk. “I think you do not truly like this,” she said and it took Murdoch a moment to realize she teased him. “You look to be a man in pain.”

  Murdoch slanted a glance at her. “I think you know you torture me.”

  She smiled, looking
so playful that he was enchanted all over again. “It is not unpleasant to know that I can hold you in thrall,” she said. “A knight and a renegade, a man so much more powerful than me, yet–” Isabella swiveled her hips, leaving Murdoch gasping “–yet, you are my captive in this moment.”

  “I am not without resource,” he said, then slid one hand between them to caress her anew. That secret pearl was still engorged and slick, the slow movement of his fingertip making Isabella’s lips part with pleasure. He knew then that he would watch her find her release while she sat atop him, that he would somehow hold out until she had another orgasm.

  “You tease me overmuch,” she protested.

  “I would please you overmuch.” He moved his finger with surety and Isabella’s eyes flashed. She sat down abruptly then, taking all of him inside her with a speed that left him gasping. “Isabella!”

  “You are right,” she said, her eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “You do fit.”

  “I told you to trust me.”

  “And so I shall. But how shall we ensure your pleasure?”

  Murdoch did not think it would take long to achieve that. He moved inside her and Isabella inhaled. She moved then of her own volition, the tightness of her driving him to distraction. She rolled her hips as he caressed her, stretching her arms high over her head as she moved, and presenting Murdoch with a most enticing vision.

  He knew then that he would never have enough of this woman. Isabella had an allure beyond all others he had known. He wanted to see her laugh and watch her find her pleasure – over and over again. He wanted to fill her, to possess her, to claim her and to live his life with her. He wanted to have children with her, to awaken to find her slumbering beside him every morning of his life, to take her hand in his every night when he retired. He wanted the soft silk of her hair tangled in his fingers and the sound of her laughter in his ear.