by Sabrina York
Though fear gripped her bowels, though his expression frightened her, she tried to remain calm. She cupped his cheek and stroked him soothingly. “Daniel. It’s all right. It’s over.”
He stared at her. His brow lowered as though he was struggling to comprehend her words, her meaning.
She’d had nightmares before and she knew how haunting they could be. She skated her thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tears clinging to his skin. “You’re safe now.” It was the only thing she could think to say.
The words seemed to reach him. His body lost some of its rigidity. His hold on her softened a tad. The wildness in his eyes receded. “Safe?”
“Aye. You’re here. With me. With Pippin. In Scotland.”
He blinked. His gaze raked her face and settled on her lips as though in doing so he could better read her meaning. “Pippin?”
“Aye.” She ran her fingers through his hair. It was meant to be a soothing gesture, but she couldn’t deny the pleasure of the caress. His hair was silky; his scalp was warm. Her fingers tightened.
And then he tightened. His muscles locked. His gaze gained intensity once more, but it was a very different brand of it. He took her chin in his large hand and held her still. His head descended.
With something of a shock, she realized he intended to kiss her.
With a greater shock, she realized just how much she wanted him to.
His lips, when they took hers, were not soft or gentle or seductive. The kiss was a maelstrom. A desperate claiming. A ravenous, rapacious reveling. She had the sense it was not her lips he was claiming, rather a chunk of his soul he had somehow lost.
He savaged her, possessed her, filling her with his scent, his need, his tongue.
She’d been kissed before, but never like this, with such a welling and demanding hunger. And she’d certainly never been kissed by a man so attractive. A man who made her heart race and her body tingle. The embrace swept her away. Stole her sanity.
She couldn’t help but respond. When she opened her mouth to him, he shuddered and sank into her, framing her face and holding her, but allowing his fingers to curl through her hair, to tease her neck, to cling.
His other hand swept lower and claimed her breast. When his thumb scored her nipple, a wave of desire swept through her and she arched into him. He groaned and rubbed against her. A hardness at the crux of his thighs gouged her. She knew what it meant and she gloried in it.
He wanted her. This man. This beautiful, wounded, perfect man.
And heaven help her. She wanted him.
In her previous world, such a thing, such an embrace, such an exchange would be unthinkable, scandalous. But that world was dead and gone. She wasn’t saving herself for a marriage that would never happen. There was no need to stop him and indeed, she didn’t care to. She wanted, needed, ached for what he seemed inclined to give her.
It only seemed polite to encourage him.
As he kissed her—now working his warm, wet lips over her cheek to nest in the sensitive skin of her neck—she allowed herself to explore. Let her hands rove.
And heavens, he was magnificent. Beneath the cotton of his shirt, his skin was hot; his muscles bunched and shivered to her touch. His shoulders were broad and strong, his back firm, his waist tapered and slim. His buttocks…
Was it wrong to mold them in her palms?
He reared up at that and pinned her with a ferocious look. He made a feral noise, something like a growl, and shifted downward. She hadn’t realized it, but he’d somehow managed to unbutton her shirt. His hand was scalding as it scudded over her chest and captured a breast.
It was an exquisite claiming. She quivered as his hold enclosed her. But then, oh, mercy, then he lowered his head and took her nipple between his lips…and sucked.
She’d never experienced such a thing. Shards of absolute delight danced on every nerve, whipping through her in a scorching tide, making her body ache and swell. When he nipped, scraping her with his teeth, she nearly came undone. She howled and clenched at his head, holding him there, begging, pleading, panting for more.
And he gave her more.
In fact, he went quite mad, frantically sucking her, stroking, nibbling, moving from one breast to the other. As he worked her, as he plied insanity upon her, his hand drifted lower. With a bolt of tingling awareness, she realized he was working the buttons of her breeks.
She knew she should probably stop him, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t care. He worked his way ever downward. And then he touched her…there.
She seized.
He touched her there, between her legs, in a spot that suddenly held every secret of the universe. Exaltation exploded in her as he nudged that throbbing button. Pleasure spiraled out with each stroke, each tease.
He grunted and lowered his head again, barraging her nipples and her pearl in tandem. A knot formed in her belly. It blossomed out, filling her with an unbearable tension.
“Please,” she cried. “Please!”
His frenzy increased. Like a man possessed, he worked her, drawing her higher and higher into the maelstrom of his passion. And hers.
When she thought she could bear it no more, when she thought she would surely expire from the agonizing bliss, she snapped. Something released within her. A liquid heat gushed through her, from her, and ecstasy, unlike anything she had ever known, descended.
And with that explosion, that implosion, she spun away into a world of colors and lights and absolute rapture.
It was, in a word, perfection.
Chapter Seven
As Daniel gazed down at Pippin’s exquisite face, shock rocked through him. Shock and exhilaration. Because what was this, this feeling he’d so long been denied? This excitement? This desire? This proof of life?
He couldn’t believe what he was feeling. He’d been convinced the French lance had unmanned him. But now, here, in the arms of this lovely, responsive, vulnerable girl, he felt it. For her and her alone.
A swelling need. A burning desire.
An erection.
He should stop.
He knew he should stop, but Daniel couldn’t bring himself to do so.
It was excuse enough that she had awoken him from a truly horrendous dream and then he, still caught in the tendrils of terror, had taken her down. Once he realized she was not the enemy, that it had indeed been naught but a dream, that the horror was truly over…he’d been suffused with an incomprehensible wash of relief, of joy. And with that swell of overwhelming emotion, something he had not known for months.
Lust.
Because there she was, beneath him, caressing him, cooing in his ear. He’d been beset with the irresistible desire to kiss her, to claim her, to take what he needed.
And he had.
He had not expected her response.
A receptive passion, a warmth. A welcome.
It had been glorious making her come, watching her come.
He should stop.
Really he should.
He would have—he was a disciplined man, after all. He would have rolled away then, suffered this raging, aching arousal. That in itself was a joy, this validation that he was not half a man. Knowing he still could.
Aye, he would have let her go then, left her pure, left her innocent and untouched, had she not reached for him. But she did. Her hand was tiny, but he felt it. Felt it with every fiber of his being when she closed her hold on his cock and tugged. And then, God help him, she smiled.
“We shouldna,” he grumbled, though he didn’t mean it. His blood was high, the passion nearly blinded him. Need raged.
She ignored him—thank God—and stroked him again. Little white stars danced before his eyes.
“Please.”
A lovely word.
And ah. He knew. He knew then he would take her. But only because she said please. And he would be gentle. She was a tiny thing.
He yanked off her breeks then yanked his down and settled himself between her legs, fisting h
is cock and pointing it to heaven. As he brushed her damp folds, her heat scalded him.
He lost his mind. All thoughts of gentility fled.
He lunged.
Absolute agony scored him as he drove deep. Not because she wasn’t ready—oh, she was. Her sheath was wet and warm and welcoming. Perfect. And not because as he seated himself, her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders.
But because she closed on him. Closed on him. And ah, God. It was agony.
And ecstasy.
He leaned up and braced on his arms and, pushing back on the clumps of grass for leverage, he eased out. Staring into her eyes, he took her, again and again.
The sensations rocking his body were blissful and divine—surely it had never felt this magnificent before—but it was more than that. It was her gaze, locked to his as it was, her huffs, her sighs, her shivers that drove him on.
“Aye,” she moaned. “Daniel. Daniel.”
His name on her lips ratcheted his need higher and higher and he had to increase his pace. He wanted to take it slow, to make it last, but he could not. His hunger was far too sharp for patience. And Pippin incited him.
She did so in small ways. The dance of her fingers on his ass, the heinous clutches of her body on his, the sounds that came from her throat. Sounds of a woman in bliss.
His body tautened. He knew it, felt it, recognized it, the familiar and long-absent crisis. Excitement skittered through his veins, rose, lifting him with it, and her as well.
He moved more quickly, with blinding speed, whipping in and out of her body with a scorching ferocity.
His pulse pounded in every pore. His balls shrank into tight nuts. Heat walked up and down his spine. A boiling need grew.
He thought to pull out when he came, to protect her from any consequences, but as he neared his crisis, she came again. Her body seized. She wailed and gripped him tight, holding him in.
The impending doom descended, taking him, waking him, washing him away in a great flood of delirium.
He released to her, in her. Released it all.
Not only his seed, but his fear, his regret, his unrelenting guilt.
Everything he was. Everything he would ever be. He released it all in that moment to a tiny, fragile woman with the unexpected strength to bear it.
As he collapsed at her side, panting, shivering, boneless, he realized that for the first time in nine months, for the first time since that battle that had broken and enslaved him, he knew peace. A deep, abiding peace that filled up all his empty places and made him feel at home in his own skin.
It was what he had been searching for.
He’d found it again.
At last.
At last.
Fia lifted up on her elbow. She couldn’t hold back her smile as she looked down at Daniel. Her lover. And my, how wonderful it had been. How wonderful he had been. She drew her fingers through his hair and his eyes opened. His lips tweaked in a sleepy smile. He tugged her down, upon him, holding her close.
Thank God she hadn’t needed to save herself for marriage, because if she had, she might have missed this. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper was burned on her memory. She would carry it with her all her days.
She wanted to do it again. And soon.
She was utterly flummoxed when, after he had recovered, he levered up and set his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes and said, in a regretful tone, “I am so sorry.”
Fia blinked. Her heart threatened to take a tumble but she scolded it not to dare. She wouldn’t be sad about this. She would not cry. She forced a smile. “Why are you sorry, Daniel?”
“I shouldna ha’ done that.”
Oh dear. Tumbling threatened. “I found it rather fine.”
He reared back. “Fine? It was a damn sight better than fine.” Ah yes. That made her feel better. “But I shouldna ha’ done that.” She disliked that he turned away. She wanted to see his face.
“Why?”
“Why?” He whirled around. His eyes were wild, red rimmed. “I nearly ravaged you.”
She sniffed. “I’ve been nearly ravaged before and this was nothing like that.”
His nostrils flared. His lips worked. His gaze flicked down her body and settled between her legs. She glanced down and saw the evidence of her deflowering, a slight stain on her thigh.
“I said nearly ravaged.” It seemed prudent to clarify.
She wasn’t prepared for his response, a thunderclap of fury. “Who nearly ravaged you?” This, said as though he was the only one with right to do so. But then, in her estimation, this was so.
She shrugged. “Just someone.”
Daniel’s fists closed. “Is he still alive?”
“I imagine. I beaned him with a chamber pot. He probably survived.” Probably.
His eyes narrowed. “Empty or full?”
“Half and half.”
He grunted as though this were half satisfying enough. But then his expression darkened once more. “I still canna escape the suspicion that I have taken advantage of the situation. Of you.” He waved at the spot where he had absolutely ravaged her—not nearly at all. “You were an innocent. A hapless traveler—”
“Hardly hapless.”
“I vowed to protect you.”
She snorted. “You did no such thing.”
“I swear to you. I did.”
Her ire rose. “You called me a nuisance.”
He cringed. “I’m sorry for that, Pippin. You are no’ a nuisance.”
She put out a lip at his mollifying apology. She didn’t want to be mollified. She wanted him to kiss her again, but he seemed to be retreating from her. And all because he imagined he’d betrayed his stupid honor. “You never vowed to protect me,” she grumbled.
“I did. I vowed it to myself.” He set a hand on his heart, which was altogether too endearing. She had to look away.
“I doona need protection, Daniel.”
“You’re a woman. Traveling alone. In this world, you do.” He raked his hair, savaging it with rough fingers. “And I… Oh God. I…”
She couldn’t help it.
She smacked him.
Not hard, but with enough force to capture his attention. “I. Liked. It.”
It seemed as though he would soften then, smile maybe. Take her in his arms and kiss her again. Do that again… But his chin firmed. It was a lovely chin with delicious scruff and a disarming dent, but she hated to see it firm.
“I liked it too, Pippin, but we canna do that again. As glorious as it was—”
“Oh! Was it glorious?”
“You know it was.”
“It was for me. But I dinna know if it was for you.” She fluttered her lashes because in his reflection of how glorious it had been, he seemed to have forgotten he was in the process of rejecting her. “A man like you? A man of the world? You must have had many women.” As she said the words, her stomach lurched.
Well, hell. He probably had. She didn’t like that in the slightest. She tried not to scowl, but feared she failed.
His lips turned up, though not in a mocking smile. Oddly, it was somewhat sad. Certainly sincere. “Nay, my Pippin. I havena had many women. Not many at all. In fact, I…”
She waited patiently for him to continue. Or not so patiently. “You…what?”
He cleared his throat. Glanced away. “I was…injured in the battle.”
She set her hand on his shoulder, if only to have some kind of contact, show him her sympathy in some small way. He covered it with his own, which she liked. She liked it very much.
“I was gored by a French lance.” He looked even farther away, if that were possible. “In the groin. I haven’t been able to… I haven’t had… I haven’t felt…” He blew out a harsh huff. “There hasn’t been a woman for over a year.”
She had no idea why delight skittered through her. Or she did. But then she frowned. “And before that?”
He whipped around and gaped at her. “I…what?”
/> “And before that?” she repeated primly. “Lots of women before that?” Not that she was jealous. Not that she absolutely needed to know.
For some reason he laughed. For some reason he took her in his arms and kissed her. A quick buss filled with inappropriate humor. “No, not lots before either.” He caught her expression and winced. “Doona misunderstand. I’m no monk. But Pippin, I am hardly a catch.”
He was wrong. He was a brilliant catch.
Would that he could be her catch.
“My father was a soldier. My mother a maid. We were people of little means.” She didn’t understand the shadow of anger that passed over his face, so she ignored it. “My father died when I was young and my mother took ill. I worked from the age of fifteen to put food on the table, to get medicine to make her comfortable. There was little time for romance. And then, when she died, I joined the Greys.” He chuckled. “No time then for certain. So there have been few women indeed.” He leaned closer and set his forehead to hers. “And none as glorious as you.”
Excellent. “So when can we do that again?”
She should have kept her mouth closed. He lurched back. Grimaced. “We canna.”
“But it was glorious.” Did he honestly need reminding? Already?
“It was wrong. And Pippin…” His expression shuttered. “I dinna protect you.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“I should have pulled out. There could be…consequences.”
Oh heavens. She hadn’t even thought of that. For a girl with no money, no family, no home, a child would indeed be a disaster. But… “Are there ways to prevent such things?”
He gave a pained grimace. “That is hardly the point.”
“Are there?”
“Aye. There are, but Pippin, my honor willna allow me to use you.”
“U-use me?”
“Aye.” He shrugged. “I have nothing to offer. Nothing. I can barely meet my own needs. I canna keep a woman and I wouldna see you suffer in poverty the way my mother suffered.”
She laughed. She had to. The sound seemed to stun him. “I’m penniless too, Daniel. I doubt you could lower my circumstances a whit.”
“A child could.”
