by Tina Donahue
Fernando pried her fingers off him and managed to get in on his own. “Never again will I let you use my sword.” He lifted it to the moonlight, carefully turning the blade, checking for imperfections. “This is a fine weapon, not to be tossed aside or dropped.”
She hardly cared about the thing. “Did I wound you? Are you bleeding?”
“No.” After returning the sword to its scabbard, he picked up the items he’d dropped. “Are you disappointed?”
She frowned. “You are impossible.” She wrung her hands. “Did you gain a mule or a horse?”
“None to be had. The filthy Moors raided this area a few weeks ago in a surprise attack I heard nothing about in Granada, and they stole all they could.”
She warned herself not to smile. They had no choice now except to keep walking and prolong their journey. “You may be forced to carry me again. Are you disappointed?”
“I am and famished. Go on. Cook this.” He tossed an item. The thing hit her hip and fell to the dirt floor. Fernando sighed loudly. “Isabella, you were supposed to catch that.”
She stopped rubbing her hip. “What is it?”
“Cabbage. Go on, pick it up and cook it.”
When she had never prepared a meal? If he’d wanted her to spin yarn or mend a garment, she could easily accommodate him. “Will we have a fire or am I to perform magic and cook the thing with flames bursting from my lips?”
“Better flames than shrewish words.”
“From me?”
“Time will tell.”
Time would not. They had so few days together, she couldn’t deny what was in her heart. “Thank you for returning to me.”
“Such gratitude.” He smiled. “Is this your way of telling me you have no cooking skills?”
“No. However, I have no experience preparing food.”
“Do as I say and you may survive the night.” He turned to the straw bed.
Isabella weakened more than she should have.
He gestured to her pile of wood. “Makings for a fire?”
“Only if flames start pouring from your mouth.”
“The torch I left outside the window should suffice. Here.” He gave her what he held. “While I fetch it, see to our food.”
Their meal consisted of some woeful-looking vegetables, black bread, and garlic. She gathered a bit of straw from their bed and laid their provisions on it in a neat line.
Fernando dropped twigs and straw on the wood before putting his torch to it. “You intend to prepare our food by lining it up like ducklings following their mamá?”
“Forgive me, my lord, would you prefer I arrange it in a circle?”
He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Cooking it first might prove the best course.”
“As you say, my lord.” Once she’d chosen a sturdy twig, she worked it through a limp carrot and crouched near the fire.
“No.” He put out his hand. “Stop.”
“Why? I thought you wanted these cooked.”
“In a pot filled with water.” He rested the torch against the corner of the wall. “I left one outside the window along with oil, wine, and a jug of goat’s milk. Despite my thoughtfulness, you tried to run me through. If I fetch those items, will you promise not to murder me when I come back inside?”
She smiled sweetly. “I promise you will come to no harm.”
Fernando delivered the items to her. Once he’d set the pot over the fire, he used his dagger to scrape dirt off the carrots and turnips, dropping them and the cabbage into the water. “Go on.” He glanced at her. “Drink the milk.”
She quenched her thirst, offered him the rest, and took a sip of the wine, nearly gagging.
He smiled at the face she made. “It tastes like vinegar, no?”
It was even more loathsome. She shuddered.
“Go on. Finish the milk,”
“No. It’s surprisingly good and yours.”
After draining the jug, he secured the screen over the window and removed his belt, dropping it near the adjacent wall. Seated on the floor, he crossed his long legs at the ankles, his arms over his broad chest, and regarded her.
Her skin flushed with heat from his intense scrutiny. She shifted from foot to foot. “How long before the vegetables cook?”
He let her wait for his answer, confidence radiating from him. “The water has to come to a boil first, which takes a fair amount of time. Next, the boiling water needs to soften the vegetables, taking even longer.”
“Perhaps we should eat them raw.”
“We could partake of the bread, oil, and garlic as we await the other food, no?”
“Of course. You must think me quite foolish.”
“Never have I met a woman more courageous.”
Her pulse beat harder.
“Or one as pampered, though your days of luxury have come to an end.” The dancing flames cast gold threads in his dark hair and revealed the desire in his hooded eyes. “Tonight you tend to my needs.”
Her heart jumped to her throat.
“Feed me.”
She stared, not certain she’d heard him correctly. “What?”
“Feed me. Were you expecting a different task?”
She was. She lied, “No, my lord.”
“Then do it now.”
“With the greatest pleasure.” She gathered the items and sank to her knees at his side. When she lowered his meal to the dirt floor, he worked his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her head.
“Is this how you intend to feed me?” He eased her to him until their lips nearly touched. “You need to be closer.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Tell me you want this.”
More than tomorrow, the next day, and the next. More than honor or truth. Her pain was too great at the thought of losing him. “Always.”
He lowered his hand. “Allow me to bring you nearer to me.” He guided her until she’d straddled him. His thickened shaft was rigid beneath her cleft and the seam of her buttocks.
The insides of her thighs ached dully with unbearable need.
He slipped his hand beneath the top of her shirt and covered her breast, holding her gaze as he shamelessly fondled her flesh.
She pushed into him. “I want this.”
Naked lust and expectation flickered across his face. “What of my pledge?”
Isabella didn’t care about the promise he’d made her, and yet she had to. She couldn’t deceive him into filling her with his child. It wouldn’t be right to bind him to her for a few moments of pleasure. Saddened and defeated, she glanced away. “It would be best to let your oath stand.”
He inhaled deeply. “As you wish, though only as to our coupling. Remove your shirt.”
The moment she was bare, he scrutinized her so boldly, her nipples tightened and her cleft grew damp. He cradled her breast and flicked his thumb over her pebbled nipple, sending bursts of warmth through her, weakening her further.
He studied her reaction closely. “Give me some bread.”
It took her entire will, but she pulled her thoughts from pleasure and tore a piece from the loaf to dip in the oil. As she reached for the garlic, Fernando suckled her neck. His lips were exquisitely soft, his mouth so heated and wet, she dropped the bread.
He eased back.
“Forgive me.” Her hand shook as she tore a new piece from the loaf. After seasoning it with oil and garlic, she drew it over his bottom lip. “Eat.” She slipped the morsel inside his mouth.
He chewed briefly, swallowed fast, and sucked her fingers.
His tongue’s warmth made her giddy with need. “Allow me to get you more.”
After he finished the next morsel, he suckled her wrist, making that part of her come alive. She was still whimpering softly when he again pressed his mouth to her neck. A wanton moan escaped her. She would have gladly remained at this until dawn if not for him pulling back. Before she could protest, he dipped his
fingers in the oil and swirled it over her rigid nipples. Her lips parted on an expectant sigh. He drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, roughly, and gently again, dragging his tongue over her flesh, his intimate touch making her toes curl and her scalp tingle. Shameless sounds of pleasure poured from her. She gave him what he willed, the use of her breasts, as long as he desired them.
He enjoyed himself thoroughly and delighted her before lifting his head. “Remove the rest of your garments.”
She obeyed quickly and stood naked before him. In Granada and for a few moments at the stream, she’d felt naught but shame at her state. Not now. His palm was hot on her belly, his touch so welcomed she kept leaning into him. He trailed his fingers over her smooth mound and touched her cleft. It was already slick, her folds plump.
His smile told her how pleased he was.
“Remain as you are.” He pushed to his feet and padded to the fire. After nodding at what he saw, he spread her garments over the floor and offered her his hand. Once she was on the clothes and sitting on her heels, he looked down at her. “Part your legs fully and keep your arms to each side so no part of you is hidden.”
She ached with impossible need. Not even in the slave market had she felt as captive, naked, or desired. He regarded her from the front, his attention lingering on her exposed slit, before lifting to her tightened nipples. She struggled to take a full breath, fighting dizziness. As he strode to the side, she stared straight ahead, his to view as he willed. His pace was relaxed, his scrutiny complete, his silence exciting her even more.
She waited for him to touch her. He collected the bread and oil instead, bringing both to her side.
“Now we eat?” she asked.
“You will. You need sustenance for what I have planned.” On one knee, he slipped a piece of bread dipped in oil between her lips.
She licked his fingers first, and then chewed the bread, surprised at the pleasant taste. Once she’d enjoyed several pieces, he tongued the stray oil from her mouth and suckled her neck. His closeness chased away her loneliness and fed her desire until she was moaning with brazen disregard.
He stopped. “You like what I do?”
More than she’d ever thought possible. “Sí. But what of your pleasure? Remove your garments so I can do to you what you will to me.”
He eased back. “You have no idea what I have planned for you, Isabella.”
“Will it harm me? Will it bring me great pain? Will it finish me off?”
He smiled. “No, no, and no.”
She pressed her cheek to his, sighing at his heat and scent. “Remove your garments, Fernando.”
“We shall see.” He dipped his fingers in the oil and trailed them past her smooth mound to her cleft.
Her body responded as it never had to her own hand, her skin sensitive to every touch, muscles quivering, throat tightening around a coarse moan. Her head fell back. Wanting more, needing as much as she dared, she rested her hands behind herself, arched her back, and spread her legs still further, submitting fully. He accepted her invitation, stroking the oil on the sensitive flesh between her legs. She gasped in delight. He eased her to her back and bent her knees until the soles of her feet were on the floor. With his hands on her inner thighs, he spread her legs, revealing the most intimate part of her to his gaze and touch.
She shivered with expectation and delight.
“Lift your arms above your head.”
It was the final act to expose her completely to him, making her fully vulnerable to whatever he desired. Fevered and wanting, she gave Fernando her all.
He stroked the folds between her legs, his fingers slick with oil. Her breath escaped in a whimpering sigh. With his mouth on her opening, he licked the oil from her flesh, stirring such delicious heat within her she cried out, the sounds vulgar and loud.
He stopped. “Quiet, lest someone hears.”
She pressed her mouth to the inside of her arm. Her forced silence gave Fernando even greater license to do as he willed. With one hand beneath her buttocks, he probed her opening with his tongue and worked her erect nub with his fingers, intensifying the pressure between her legs, delicious torment that grew with each lick and stroke.
She dug her nails into her palms and sank her teeth in her lower lip at the powerful feelings gathering within her. Suddenly, she couldn’t focus on anything other than the area between her legs or bear for him to keep touching her there. She tried to close her thighs, begging for a moment to calm down. He kept her spread widely, refusing to grant any peace, rubbing and licking. She broke, shivering uncontrollably, her sheath pulsing hard. Her arm muffled her cries, as crude as any harlot’s, her desire as base.
Despite her release, he didn’t stop. She squirmed and whimpered at the heaviness building within her again, his actions nearly torturous, yet she had no escape. He used her until she lay sprawled and limp, her body slick with sweat.
Fernando leaned up and fitted his mouth to hers, his kiss tender and comforting.
She suckled his tongue greedily, enjoying his gentle side.
At last, he pulled free. “Have I pleased you, my queen?”
The room whirled. “Sí.” She cupped his face and brought his mouth back to hers, kissing him so wantonly, he growled. When she’d finished, she pulled at his shirt. “Remove this and the rest of your garments so I may pleasure you with my mouth.”
He stared. “You know about such things?”
“I listened to others talking.”
“You eavesdropped.”
“I spied.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You would do such a thing for a man?”
“Only with the man who is now before me.”
“Your betrothed.”
In her heart he was. At this moment, nothing else mattered. “Please allow me this.”
He still seemed unsettled by her request but did remove his garments. Before he could sink to the floor, she went to her knees, her hands on his lean hips. “Let me kneel before you as I should and serve you as I do.”
He stroked her cheek. “What about your scraped knees?”
“The wounds no longer pain me.” She touched a scar above his left hipbone. The bumpy flesh was still red, betraying its recent origin. “This pains me.” She ran her fingers over a scar on his arm. It was pale and older. “And this.” She kissed both injuries.
“Gracias, Isabella.”
His voice was huskier than it had ever been, heavy with the same emotion coursing through her. Firelight danced over his broad chest and taut belly, turning his skin gold, making the moment magical. Stirred beyond restraint, she buried her face in the dark curls above his stiffened shaft and inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of his musk. Wanting far more.
She worked the oil into his curls. His growls of delight filled the small chamber, growing louder as she licked him clean. She swirled the oil over his weighty sac, fascinated at how it tightened in response. When she ran the oil down the length of his hard member, Fernando made a strangled noise and fisted his fingers.
“My lord.” She’d addressed him with reverence and desire. Once she’d eased his shaft aside, she drew her tongue over his plump sac.
A powerful moan escaped him despite the others here. No one else mattered to Isabella. This moment belonged to her and to him. She licked his sac until she’d removed the oil and he was ready to lose control. With his sex cradled in her palm, she pressed her face to the base of his shaft and ran her tongue down it until she’d reached the smooth head.
His chest pumped with his harsh breathing. He murmured in Arabic, words that sounded like praise or a prayer. Loving the sounds, she swirled her tongue over his silky crown, licking the small depression, tasting the salty moisture that had escaped.
Needing more, she took him fully into her mouth.
He started and then groaned loud and long, the sound encouraging her to do more. She worked him with her mouth, easing his shaft from it, taking
him back inside, dragging her tongue over his crown and length. His legs wavered. He couldn’t seem to get enough breath. He spoke in Spanish and Arabic, finally crying out, reaching the height of pleasure. His seed spurted inside her mouth.
She drank it willingly. An act to honor…an act of love.
Unsteady, he sagged to his knees. She greeted him with her embrace. “Are you much satisfied, my lord?”
His chin rested heavy on her shoulder. His arms hung limply about her waist. He breathed hard and at length grunted again.
She smoothed back his hair and kissed his ear. “As you rest, allow me to see to our food and feeding you at last.”
Chapter 6
He didn’t protest until Isabella reached for her shirt.
“No.” He laid his arm across it. When she tried to take his shirt, he put his foot on it. “See to my meal as you are.”
She regarded her nudity. “While you sleep?”
“No. While I watch you.”
In the heat of desire, she’d been quite bold. Now, her expression was virginal and uncertain.
“Go on.” He flicked his hand to hurry her along.
She padded to the fire.
Fernando propped himself on one elbow, resting his head in his palm. “Isabella.”
She looked over. He made her wait as he regarded the dimples above her plush buttocks, her lovely cheeks tightening at his scrutiny. Heat pooled in his groin. “Bend over.”
She didn’t. “Why?”
“So you can see what goes on in the pot.” And he could see even more of her.
She planted one hand on her hip. “Hopefully the water is finally boiling.”
“Bend over to make certain it is. No.” He shook his head as she fell to her knees in front of the pot. “Back on your feet. Remain standing as you bend over. Keep your knees locked and your legs spread.”
She gave him a withering look. “Will the water boil faster if I do?”
“Go on.”
Inhaling deeply, she turned to the fire, grabbed her hair in one hand, and bent at the waist.
Fernando smiled. She was nearly in a position for him to mount her, as soon as she allowed him to do so. He held back a sigh at her continued resistance. “Is all well?”
