She’d thought of that moment—intensely craved it—ever since Bram had brought her to pleasure in the cottage.
“At last, we are alone,” he whispered.
“At last.” She smiled back, joyous tears stinging her eyes. “Bram, I have wanted so much . . . to be with you.” To explore your naked skin, her mind finished. To caress your rigid maleness. To know what it’s like when your body shudders in rapture along with mine. But the words caught in her throat.
“I know,” he said softly, before turning away from the door. “I have wanted the same.”
He strode toward the bed, its coverlet and white linen sheets turned down. A fire crackled in the hearth, warding off the slight chill in the air, while candles flickered on the bedside tables.
Reaching the side of the bed, he gently set her on her feet. As she rose up on tiptoes to kiss him, his arms slid around her waist and drew her in close. Their lips brushed, gently at first, and then their tongues slid together in a slick, demanding dance.
A groan rumbled from Bram, a hungry sound that quickened the excitement spiraling through her. His palms slid down to her bottom and squeezed, while pulling her forward, tightening the crush of their lower bodies. His hardness pressed into her.
That hidden place between her legs ached with a hot, wet hunger that had persisted since he’d brought her to bliss days ago. Breaking away from the kiss, she whispered against his mouth, “Help me with my gown.”
A bold smile kicked up his mouth. When his hands slid to her sides, she closed her eyes. A tremor trailed through her. She expected to feel the pull of fabric as he swiftly unfastened the ties of her gown, the brush of cloth as he whisked it and her chemise over her head, and then the coolness of the chamber’s air upon her exposed skin.
But while his fingers worked the ties, he kissed her cheek. His fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts, making them ache. Then he swept his knuckles with agonizing slowness down her ribcage, causing her soft linen undergarment to gently abrade her skin. She arched against him, her body afire.
“Bram.” Her voice trailed off on a moan.
Dipping his head, he kissed her neck. “Shh.” He nibbled her skin, causing shivers to ripple over her sensitized flesh. “We have all night.”
“Aye, but—”
“You are still a maiden. This first time between us, there is no rush.”
“Nay?” She shuddered as his tongue slid over her collarbone, and her hands clenched the shoulders of his tunic. “I shall die from wanting you.”
“Well, we cannot have that.” His hands shifted, he stepped away, and then all went dark, as he whipped off her gown and chemise. They landed in a heap on the floorboards.
When the chamber air kissed her naked skin, she missed his warmth against her. But as his fiery gaze slid over her, from her breasts to the downy patch between her thighs, to her toes, he loosed an appreciative whistle. “Beautiful.”
The admiration in that one word sent a heady warmth racing through her. Never before had she felt such exhilarating strength. Would she feel this way each time she stood undressed before him? She hoped so.
Smiling, she held his burning gaze as it returned to her face. “I want to see you, husband.”
He grinned. The lopsided curve of his lips turned roguish as he reached for the hem of his tunic. Without breaking her stare, he drew the garment over his head and tossed it on the floorboards.
She sucked in a breath. In the muted golden light, his bronzed skin gleamed, outlining the powerful musculature of his torso. As his arms lowered, her gaze slid to his left wrist, tied by a blue ribbon with frayed ends: the token that had proven, beyond doubt, that he was her Bram. A proud glow warmed her, to know that at last, he was the lord he’d aspired to be. And, best of all, they’d spend the rest of their lives together.
His hands moved to the belt at his waist. His arousal strained against the snug wool of his hose, and her palms begged to touch his maleness. What would that part of him feel like, in her hands?
She closed the small gap between them, crushing her breasts against him. As he groaned, her hands skimmed from his hips inward, to the hardness pressing between them.
“Miranda—”
Her palm stroked him, and he groaned again. A shudder tore through him, as though her touch affected far more than that one place on his body.
“I want to touch you, Bram. Please.”
“And you shall.” Reaching between them, he gently pushed her hands away and began to unfasten the points of his hose.
Impatient, she kissed him, urging him with her lips and tongue to hurry. He kissed her back, harder, faster, his breaths becoming hisses against her mouth. His warm fingers bumped against her belly as he worked. With a muffled oath, he stepped away, yanked off his belt, stripped off his boots and hose, and tossed the items aside.
Her stomach clenched as she drank in the sight of his nakedness. Perfection defined the muscled tautness of his stomach, thighs, and . . . maleness. She swallowed, a quivering ache rippling through her, for even more now, she wanted their coupling.
His gaze narrowed, blazed, as she reached out and slid her fingers down his length. Dark veins ran under his skin, soft, yet with an undertone of steel. A ragged moan broke from him. The sound of pleasure heightened her delicious sense of feminine power. If he enjoyed that touch, she must do it again.
Her fingers moved to close around him, but, stepping forward, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her with him onto the bed. As they tumbled onto the mattress, limbs tangling, the bed ropes creaked. Landing on her back, she gazed up at him. Braced on one arm, his dark hair half-fallen over his face, he looked down at her, his smile ravenous.
“Why did you throw me upon the bed? Did you not like my touch?”
He chuckled. His fingers skimmed down over her right breast to lightly trace around her nipple, coaxing it into a hard nub. A sound akin to a purr burned her throat.
“I liked your touch very much, wife,” he murmured, as his fingers slid down to her belly. “Too much.”
Shivers spread everywhere he touched. Her body yearned, the need almost unbearable. “Bram—”
“I know,” he whispered, his tone rough. “But you are a virgin. I do not want to hurt you.”
Reaching up, she stroked his cheek. “I was told the discomfort is only for a moment, the pleasure afterward worth the pain.”
A grin tilted his mouth. “There will be pleasure, even though this is the first time for you. I promise.”
“As much as in the cabin?”
“More.”
“Then I do not want to wait any longer.”
A low rumble broke from him. As his jaw clenched, she wondered if she’d shocked him. Before she could say a word, though, his hand slipped down between her thighs and found the delicious place he’d caressed before.
She gasped. Arched. Thrust up her hips to meet his strokes, as her eyes slipped closed.
His hand roved, gliding in a wicked rhythm that brought her writhing and twisting on the bedding. And then, his body’s weight settled over her, and she felt his manhood pressing against her wetness.
Her eyes flitted open. Their gazes locked.
Slowly, his hardness pushed into her.
Sucking in a quick breath, she tried to adjust to the tightness and stretching. It grew, until the discomfort became a sensation close to pain.
Above her, Bram hesitated. His hair brushed her brow as he dipped his head and took her mouth in a lusty kiss.
Disappointment wove through her. “Do not stop. The pleasure—”
“I love you,” he whispered, suddenly trembling above her.
Tears dampened her eyes. “I love you, too—”
He thrust forward. Pain pierced inside her. She gasped, willing the discomfort to go away, even as he gently drew back and eased forward again, calming the pain with his careful, soothing strokes.
Again and again he moved, eac
h glide less painful than the last. A simmering, tantalizing heat began to kindle where their bodies meshed.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Mmm.”
He thrust hard, and she tilted her hips up on a sigh of pleasure. As he thrust again, she bit down on her lip, for her body was racing toward an unknown point, a sensation akin to running up a steep hill at night.
Faster, faster, she went, her breath tightening in her lungs. The heat between her thighs spiraled higher, higher, until suddenly, she was leaping off the hill to snatch the stars from the sky.
“Bram!” she cried.
His breathing grew harsh.
As the stars shattered into a hundred glittering pieces behind her closed eyelids, she gasped and shuddered.
With a ragged cry, Bram tensed above her. His manhood leapt within her, and then, with a groan, he slumped on top of her, his breaths hot against the side of her neck.
Eyes closed, she lay in the warmth of his embrace, the flush of their intimacy cooling on her skin. After long moments of lying together, he shifted his weight off her, rose up on his right arm, and squinted down at her.
“How do you feel?”
She smiled. “Thoroughly happy.”
“Good.” He grinned and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The ends of the ribbon tickled her cheek.
Catching his hand, she entwined her fingers with his. “I knew ’twould be wondrous between us,” she whispered.
“So did I. I knew the moment I kissed you in the stable.”
“All those years ago. Now, we are married.” She fingered the tattered ribbon. “We were bound together from our very first kiss.”
A sly glint lit Bram’s eyes. “Shall I show you, wife, once again, how splendid our married life together will be?”
“What a good idea, husband.”
—The End—
About Catherine Kean
Award-winning author Catherine Kean has always loved tales of heroic knights and stubborn damsels. Her debut medieval historical romance, Dance of Desire, was the launch title of Medallion Press's Sapphire Jewel Imprint. Dance of Desire won two Reviewer’s Choice Awards, Best Medieval in industry review magazine Affaire de Coeur’s 2006 Reader-Writers’ Poll, and finaled in four contests for published romance novelists.
Her other medieval romances have also garnered accolades. Among them, My Lady's Treasure won the historical category of the 2008 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Contest and finaled in the 2008 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. A Knight’s Reward was a 2008 National Readers’ Choice Awards finalist.
Catherine also writes contemporary romances under the pseudonym Cate Lord.
When not writing, Catherine enjoys cooking, baking, browsing antique shops, shopping with her daughter, and gardening. She lives in Central Florida with her husband, daughter, and two very spoiled cats. For details on her novels and upcoming appearances, please visit her website:www.catherinekean.com
Also Available by Catherine Kean
Dance of Desire
Knight’s Series Novels
A Knight’s Reward (Knight’s Series Book 2)
A Knight’s Temptation (Knight’s Series Book 3)
A Knight’s Persuasion (Knight’s Series Book 4)
Coming Soon…
A Knight’s Seduction (Knight’s Series Book 5)
Novella in Charmed Anthology, Fall 2014
Novella in Medieval Anthology, Fall 2014
Table of Contents
A Knight’s Vengeance
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
My Lady’s Treasure
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Bound by His Kiss
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About Catherine Kean
Also Available by Catherine Kean
Medieval Rogues Page 68
