Loving Lies

by Tina Donahue

  He studied the area, “Your request must be great to secure so much obedience. Before I agree to such a thing, tell me what it is.”

  “You wait to have me until after we wed.”

  He looked at her. “Wait?”

  It was the only solution. “Please.”

  “Why? Do you doubt you and I will wed?”

  “I doubt my ability to be the woman you deserve.” Nothing she’d said had ever been truer. “Only if our union is sanctioned will I feel free to lie with you.”

  “And quell the rumors of others?”

  Her cheeks burned. She turned away.

  Fernando asked no more. Isabella sensed what he was thinking. She wanted him to wait so no one could say the child wasn’t his…that another man had sired the infant during her abduction or after she arrived in Granada. How she hated duping him, yet she had no other choice.

  “If you want this,” he said, “I grant your request, though only as far as our coupling. All else is mine, starting now.” He led her into the gently flowing stream. “After I wash and pleasure you, I demand you do the same for me.”

  Chapter 3

  Despite his firm speech, Fernando fully expected Isabella to argue with him.

  She was as meek and obedient as she’d promised…as a woman should be with a man. Given his pledge not to have her until their nuptials, Fernando reined in his passion, which wasn’t easy.

  However, she could always change her mind and beg him to lie with her this day. He simply had to persuade her.

  He stroked the curve of her hip, a light and loving touch. Her step paused. Pretending not to notice, he cupped her naked cheek, sighing at how unbearably soft and warm her skin was.

  Color kept rising to her throat and face.

  Taking in the area, Fernando led her deeper into the stream. Now, she fought him, sucking in a breath, lifting one leg then the other, no doubt to stop the water from burning her scraped knees.

  “The pain will pass.” To distract her and to please himself, he kissed her ear, temple, and the side of her mouth, inhaling deeply of her female scent, heated flesh perfumed with the sweetness of the fruit she’d eaten.

  She turned her face to his. Her eyes were puffy from tears and bright with what appeared to be concern as to what would happen between them.

  Only pleasure. He brushed his lips over hers to prove it. Her mouth still trembled. With great gentleness, he skimmed her bottom lip with his tongue then kissed her with more tenderness than he realized he had. She sagged against him, suckling his tongue, moaning faintly. Pleased, he trailed his fingers down her velvety throat causing her to moan even more. Beneath his touch, she yielded and craved. He ended the kiss and eased back.

  Her taut nipples were a dusky rose, the tips long, made for his mouth, the same as the rest of her. Her lush breasts had easily filled his hands, the flare of her hips was so womanly his sac tightened even more. Warning himself to quell his desire, he ran his fingers over the base of her throat and smiled at her prolonged sigh. “The pain has passed, no?”

  Her eyes were glassy, distracted. She took a deep breath before nodding.

  He led her farther into the stream until water lapped her thighs. With his arm around her waist, he pulled her against him, nestling his shaft in the furrow between her plush cheeks. His head buzzed at her softness and warmth, his arousal so intense he could barely force down a swallow or capture a breath. Isabella, on the other hand, stiffened and dug her fingers into his wrist.

  Clearly, she needed more wooing. He pressed his mouth to her neck and suckled, enjoying the faint saltiness of her skin. She eased her grip. With her fear again draining away, he took another quick look, satisfied they were safe, and trickled water over her narrow shoulders. The moisture glimmered in the light, skimming her breasts, trailing past her peaked nipples before gliding over her torso to her mound.

  Warmth pooled in his groin. His shaft hungered for her tight, wet heat. Forcing himself to be patient and gentle, he brought more water to her shoulders and arms. She whimpered and tried to pull away, covering her scraped elbows with her hands.

  Again, he assured, “The pain will pass.” He cupped her right breast.

  She went rigid, not even breathing any longer.

  He made no sudden moves. “I gave you my word to wait for our coupling.” Before she could question or speak, he turned her face to his and slipped his tongue between her lips. She sighed hungrily. He growled at the stunning comfort of her mouth and the wonder of her nipple against his roughened palm. Her tip was erect, her breast so yielding he fondled her with an urgency he hadn’t experienced in years with the women he’d known.

  As he deepened the kiss, she pushed her breast into his hand, unknowingly pressing her buttocks against his stiffened shaft. Currents of heat flowed through him, her closeness fueling his hunger. He ran his hand over her breasts, squeezing each precious globe before pulling his mouth free.

  Breathing hard, she rested the back of her head against his shoulder.

  Her growing trust thrilled him as few things had. With his attention on their surroundings, ever alert to danger, he slid his hand over the gentle swell of her belly, his fingers poised above her slit. She pushed into him. To get away from his touch? He stroked her delicate flesh, deliberately teasing it. “Allow me this.”

  Her breath spilled out on a ragged sigh. Above them, birds flew past, chirping gaily. Wind hushed through the trees. Isabella soon seemed unaware of anything except his patient touch. She turned her head until her cheek rested against his shoulder and her newest sighs warmed his throat.

  Smiling, he slipped his fingers over her mound and touched the soft folds between her legs. Her breath caught…the same as his. She was already wet for him. The world spun so quickly, he had to lock his knees to steady himself. Beneath his fingers, her sex grew plumper, slicker with her womanly moisture. He held back a bellow of delight and dipped his fingers to her sweet nub. She made a gentle, feminine sound, fueling his lust.

  “Allow me this,” he said, even though she’d made no move to resist. She kept her legs open to his touch, every part of her surrendering to whatever he willed.

  As he flicked his fingertips over her erect nub, she released a shuddering breath and melted into his touch, clearly wanting more. Determined to prolong her pleasure, to make her desire this over anything else, he eased his hand from her slit and rested his damp fingers on her belly. She shook her head. Objecting to the way he’d stopped? Surely. He ran his forefinger around her navel, circling the small depression.

  “No.” She pulled in more air. “Touch me there again. Please.”

  He feigned ignorance. “Where?”

  Her breasts quivered with her harsh breaths. “My sex. Touch it.”

  “In time.”

  “Now.”

  He suckled her throat, liking the eager and wanting sounds she made. He kissed her shoulder, ear, and temple before concentrating on her nub, stroking it unhurriedly. She gripped his forearm. Brushing his fingers more quickly against her sex, he drove her closer to the edge. Her breathing grew strained, muscles tight. As she neared the height of her pleasure, he eased back his hand.

  She moaned. “No, no, no, no. Why did you stop? Touch me.”

  He did, and a shameless cry burst from her. Before she could catch her breath, he rubbed faster, harder, so relentless in his intent, she reached release quickly and cried out once more. He held her tightly to him as she floated down from the peak of her desire, shivering against him.

  She belonged to him now, and not only because of this act or their betrothal. She’d been born for him as much as he’d been born for her. It was a concept he’d never considered before. A dream he’d thought only a fool could believe.

  He’d been blind for denying such a thing until now, because he was falling under the spell of a woman he barely knew and yet seemed to have known all of his days. From the moment he first saw her in the market, she’d captur
ed his heart. She’d proved to be courageous and worthy of the greatest respect. A man didn’t need days, months, or years to know this kind of passion. It could happen in an instant. If one was fortunate, it lasted a lifetime.

  He sighed contentedly as she turned into him, snuggling her breasts to his chest, resting her face against his neck. Her sweet breath did magical things, making his shaft even harder. After kissing her shoulder, he again regarded their surroundings. They were blessedly alone, as he’d predicted when choosing this spot.

  He embraced her gently. “Have you nothing to say?”

  “Gracias.”

  Fernando laughed, realizing too late how he’d insulted her. He pulled her back within his embrace. “Forgive me. I was not making light of the moment. Your response delights me.”

  “One you expected, no?”

  Of course, though he never would have guessed how elated he’d be at pleasing her. The second son of a count had brought this first-born lady much joy. “Until this moment you were so difficult, I had no idea what might happen.”

  “I was disagreeable, not difficult.” She pressed her mouth to his throat and suckled him tenderly.

  His knees knocked against hers. His heart beat so hard he could barely speak. “Have it your way, though no more.”

  She stopped sucking and glanced up. Her cautious expression said she recalled her promise of obedience to his will. “You want to pleasure me again?”

  “I want you to see to my pleasure. To have your hands do to my shaft what your body should, caress and stroke its length. Bring me to completion.”

  She eased back, her attention falling to his rigid rod. A deep pink tint flooded her chest, throat, and cheeks.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  Her gaze flicked to his before returning to his sex. “No.” With tender care, she took his thickened flesh in her hand.

  A shock of delight tore through Fernando, forcing him to dig his toes into the cool mud in order to keep steady. His legs still wavered as she cupped his sac in her other hand. Her caress pulled a strained grunt from him.

  Isabella quickly loosened her hold. “Did I hurt you?”

  He was too aroused to speak. After shaking his head, he gestured for her to continue.

  * * * *

  She willed her heart to stop thudding against her throat.

  It beat even harder as she regarded his heavy sex now in her care. Fernando’s skin was exquisitely soft and hot, his rigid length breathtaking, his smooth crown nearly purple with desire. Never had she felt or seen anything as wondrous. It blinded her to the lies she would continue to tell, the future they could never have. What mattered now were these few moments. The only they might share.

  As he rested his forearms on her shoulders and delivered himself to her, she ran her fingertip over the small depression in the head of his shaft. A clear, silky fluid emerged. She’d heard other women speak of this…how it announced the beginning of a man’s pleasure. Mesmerized, she stroked the liquid over his reddened tip and worked her fingers past the crown to his shaft until she’d reached the thick hair on his groin.

  He kept growling, the sounds strangled, nearly out of control. He’d lowered his head, his breathing difficult.

  She made matters even harder on him, doing to Fernando what her male cousins had done to themselves when none of them had known she’d been spying. As Isabella worked one hand up and down his meaty length, she fondled his sac.

  He bunched his shoulders, increasing the weight of his forearms on her.

  She endured the burden willingly, tending to his pleasure. He clenched his jaw, his face reddened. He was surely close to release. Recalling what he’d done with her, she stopped arousing him and merely caressed. He thrust his hips toward her, obviously wanting her to continue. When she did not, he muttered what sounded like an Arabic oath and glared.

  She curled her fingers more tightly around his sex and worked him harder, faster than before.

  His head dropped forward, hair dancing in the breeze. He grunted repeatedly, yet didn’t climax. She sensed he was fighting pleasure to prolong the feeling. His response increased her determination to bring him full joy. She stroked fast and slow, hard and soft. He growled and panted, finally pressing his face to his arm to quiet his lusty groans.

  His hot, creamy seed spurted across her palms. Fascinated, she stroked his flesh.

  His groans turned to gasps. He lowered his arms and pulled her hands away.

  She frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Stopping you.” He shuddered before pulling in another rough breath.

  “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

  He lifted his head. His face was flushed with pleasure, eyes hooded, his breathing even harsher than earlier. “No.”

  “Then allow me to continue.”

  Again, he pulled her hands from his shaft and sac. “To what end? You want to kill me?”

  “Without a sword or a dagger?”

  “Your hands are weapons enough.”

  How true. Spying on her cousins had told Isabella how sensitive a man’s flesh was after he’d found release. Recalling those moments, she grinned.

  He did too, quite sleepily. “Gracias, Isabella. You honored me with this act.”

  She’d duped him with it. He didn’t belong to her. She’d never belong to him. She lowered her face and wrapped her arms around herself, shame and worry returning.

  After yawning lustily, he touched her arm. “Are you cold?”

  Despite the sun warming her shoulders, she shivered and lied. Always she had to lie. “Sí.”

  “We best finish bathing.” He stretched and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “We need to resume our journey.”

  She needed to delay their arrival at her papá’s estate but hadn’t a plan on how to do so.

  Fernando washed the dark stain off the backs of his hands, neck, and the sides of his face. Water drizzled down his bristly cheeks and fell onto his lightly furred chest, where the beads sparkled like dozens of diamonds.

  She grew limp with longing. He gave her an odd look. “What are you doing?”

  Falling under his spell, what else? “Nothing.”

  “I know. You need to bathe, not watch me. Go on.”

  “I shall.”

  “Now.”

  Under his watchful eye, Isabella had no other choice, though she still concentrated on delay. She poured water over her shoulder, pausing to regard the ribbons of moisture coursing down her arm. Once the water had fallen from each fingertip, she poured some over her other shoulder, waiting as it flowed down.

  “Isabella.”

  She looked at him. He was quite beautiful even when he frowned.

  “Do you always bathe like this?”

  Pretending not to understand his question, she glanced at their surroundings. The lovely trees, fluffy clouds, brilliant sun. “I never bathe in streams. The servants always fill a tub with heated water and scented oils.”

  “Do you bathe as slowly in a tub?”

  “I do, if the day happens to be as warm as this one.”

  “I thought you were cold.”

  She suddenly recalled her lie and added another. “Only because the sun had gone behind a cloud.” She scooped water into her palm and poured it over her chest. The threads of moisture separated around her tightened nipple.

  Fernando cupped her breast, lowered his head, and latched onto her tip.

  Her mouth sagged open at his tongue rasping her flesh. His moves were so wanton, his mouth so wet and hot she moaned indelicately. He rewarded her by suckling her nipple without restraint, making her weak with need. When he enjoyed her other nipple, she trembled in delight.

  He eased back. “You enjoy this, no?”

  She cleared her throat in order to speak. “Very much.”

  “Then you must hurry so our wedding is not unduly delayed. Allow me to assist you.” He cupped the back of her
head, bent her at the waist, and unceremoniously pushed her head into the water.

  Startled, she flailed her arms. When Fernando pulled her back up, she coughed and shouted, “What are you doing?”

  “What you will not. You seem incapable of washing yourself, señorita.”

  Isabella yanked away and had to right herself quickly so she wouldn’t fall in the stream. Clawing wet hair off her face, she glared. “I am most capable, señor.”

  “Prove it by promptly finishing the task, understand?”

  “I do, my lord, as I have no desire to have you drown me.”

  He stepped toward her. “Why are you delaying our journey?”

  Heat rose to her throat and cheeks.

  He frowned. “You refuse to answer me?”

  She refused to speak the truth. “I was abducted and taken to the slave market, Fernando. I fear what others might think of me.”

  “They will think only the best or face my sword. You have my protection. It should suffice. Or do you still doubt my honor and fidelity?”

  How could she after what he’d done for her in Granada and continued to do here?

  Ashamed of her behavior and giving him even a moment of doubt, she pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. “Never. Forgive me.”

  Fernando’s anger receded as quickly as hers had. He curled his fingers around hers. “We need to be on our way. You have only a moment to finish bathing.”

  Her shoulders sagged. She unbraided her hair and washed. Once they were both finished, Fernando helped her from the stream and back to their garments.

  She made a face. “I have to clean my robe.”

  “Wear my shirt until we reach our supplies.” He tossed the garment to her.

  Isabella clenched her teeth as she pulled the linen over her scraped elbows. Once she had the shirt on, she regarded her calves, exposed to anyone she might encounter. “I need only a moment to wash my robe.”

  “No. Leave the thing here.”

  Fernando dressed quickly. Taking her hand, he led her toward the wild wheat.