The Thief's Countess (Border Series Book 1)

by Cecelia Mecca

  When both of her breasts bounced free, he explored them with his hands.

  Geoffrey’s mouth ravished hers. His warm hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs teased the hard tips. The double assault to her senses was almost more than she could handle. Then, without warning, her lips were bereft of heat as his mouth replaced his hand. Grasping his hair, she moaned, unable to reconcile the feeling building deep within her.

  Geoffrey lifted his head and his eyes bored into hers. “Sara.” The intimacy of hearing her given name on his lips sent a thrill through her. “I want to please you.”

  “Geoffrey, you already do.”

  “Nay, I want to give you the kind of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.”

  Not understanding, she said, “You wish to make love to me?”

  A sound of half pleasure and half torture escaped from his lips.

  “There’s nothing I’d like more, but we cannot. As I said at supper, you’re not mine to take.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. My virginity is mine alone to give.”

  That apparently startled him. “And you’d give it to me?”

  Her answer was instantaneous. “Aye.”

  She wouldn’t take it back. The rest could be worked out later. She had been raised to be decisive.

  Well … she was making a decision now.

  Geoffrey took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

  What was he thinking?

  The moment he opened his eyes, she could tell he was going to refuse her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “Tis the finest gift I’ve ever been offered, but one I must decline. I won’t jeopardize your marriage to Lord Lyonsford, as much as I wish it were otherwise, for my own pleasure. He is your future and Kenshire’s security.”

  “I know my duty well.” And didn’t need to hear it from him.

  “It’s not so easily done,” he said, caressing her cheek, “fooling a man into believing he’s taken a virgin.”

  She’d thought of that, of course. But there were ways around it.

  “When I said I want to please you, I meant it. It’s anyone’s guess what tomorrow will bring.” He inclined his head toward the castle. “Your men prepare for battle even now. Let me help us both forget for a short time.”

  She swallowed hard before nodding. What could he mean? Had he changed his mind?

  Geoffrey recognized her confusion as innocence. He placed another soft kiss on her lips, but she held out a hand to stop him.

  “You have me at a disadvantage.” She nodded toward her naked chest and then at his own torso. “I want to see you.”

  Never predisposed to patience, he quickly dispensed with his padded leather jack. After he shrugged it free, Sara stepped forward and shakily untied the laces of his undershirt herself.

  Geoffrey couldn’t recall ever being so aroused by the simple act of having his shirt removed. Once the garment was discarded, Sara ran her hands along his chest muscles, touching her finger tentatively to one nipple, staring in apparent fascination as it hardened, reacting to touch much like her own did.

  He hadn’t counted on her curiosity, her sense of open wonder, when he’d vowed to leave Sara a virgin. The tantalizing touch of the woman in his arms had him rock hard. Ending the sweet torture, he pulled her closer so their bare chests came in contact. Her soft “Oh!” shot straight to his manhood.

  He kissed Sara while moving her toward the same rock outcropping where they sat days before. The one he knew was not in view of the lookouts. “Step out of your gown.” Sara complied without question, and he silently helped her.

  Kneeling at her feet, Geoffrey reached under her shift and removed her fine hose one leg at a time. He allowed his hands to brush her firm legs, smiling as a sigh escaped from her lips. Reverently, he eased her into a seated position beside her fine, discarded gown. Her shift was already pulled low, giving him access to her beautiful breasts.

  Kneeling below her, Geoffrey murmured, “Trust me.”

  Moving closer, he once again traced his hand up her well-formed calf, teasing the soft flesh of her upper leg and splaying his hand across her inner thigh. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back. Asking for her trust was unnecessary. When his hand found an undergarment, he expertly brushed past it, willing his lady’s eyes to open. He was most anxious for her response. It didn’t take long. Sara’s eyes shot open at the first stroke of his finger.

  Their gazes locked. “Nay, don’t close your legs, love.”

  When she started to argue, he cut her short. “Look how your body responds.”

  With that, he thrust a finger inside, smiling at her throaty gasp, and continued to distract her from embarrassment.

  “Your wetness tells me what I already know.” Allowing her enough time to adjust to the new sensation, he began to move his finger. Keeping time with the sound of the waves as they crashed ashore, he picked up and then slowed his pace, using his thumb to tease the nub that lay at the core of her building passion.

  “Close your eyes. Forget about everything save my finger inside you.” Her arched back told him the gentle assault was working. “Let me pleasure you, Sara. Feel it build and let go when you’re ready.”

  He knew his words meant naught to her, but he was desperate to bring Sara to her first release. Moaning, she pushed her hips toward his hand. When he knew she was close, Geoffrey used his free hand to toss the hem of her shift even higher. He trailed kisses up her leg until his lips found the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

  He felt her body tightening as her breathing turned heavier and heavier. Kneeling at her feet, he used his hands and mouth to bring her to the brink of a passionate release. Finally, Geoffrey felt her clenching around his fingers. He watched her fingers claw at the rocks from the corner of his eye. Not allowing her climax to subside, Geoffrey continued to tease with his fingers until her thighs slowly stopped trembling. Eventually, her body began to relax.

  He considered showing her how quickly she could climax again but decided to forego the idea. Much more of this exquisite torture and he’d forget his honorable intentions. As it was, he needed to relieve himself—and quickly.

  Geoffrey looked up as he lifted Sara’s delicate foot to replace her stockings.

  Clearly disheveled, beads of sweat at her brow, Sara looked as though she’d been thoroughly ravished.

  It was the loveliest sight he ever beheld.

  “I don’t trust myself to speak.”

  “Then don’t.” He moved to sit beside her.

  “But I have … I mean, I want…”

  He rescued her. “It seems I’ve rendered milady speechless.”

  This woman had faced her archenemy with cool disdain, but he’d pleasured her so well she was unable to formulate a coherent thought.

  He was inordinately pleased.

  “What do you find so humorous, pray tell?”

  “You. If I’d known that’s all it would take, I’d have pleasured you at our first meeting on the beach.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t have allowed it!”

  He wasn’t so sure he agreed—this connection between them had been out of control even then—but didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing his opinion.

  “What about you?”

  He deliberately feigned ignorance.

  “What of me?”

  “Well, I … don’t you, you know?”

  Geoffrey had not been dissembling when he’d told William he had never taken a virgin. He’d never had a conversation like this with a woman, but he was enjoying himself immensely. “You’re wondering about my own pleasure?”

  “Aye.” She was clearly relieved to be unburdened from putting her thoughts into words.

  “That will have to come later.”

  Eyes wide, she obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  “Nay, my lady. Not by another.” He continued unabashedly, “I’ll have to see to it myself. Or take a cold swim instead.”

  “Oh.” H
er lips formed a perfect circle and he couldn’t resist putting his lips to them. His hand closed around her neck, and he marveled at how aroused a simple kiss could make him.

  He pulled away before the entire household came to look for them. “I’m loath to let you go, but Faye must be near mad with worry.”

  “Faye!” Sara exclaimed. “What will I tell her?”

  Standing, she allowed him to help her dress, the deep violet fabric wrinkled beyond repair after being discarded on the dune.

  “I’ll tell her I begged you to allow me solace on the beach.”

  Laughing, Sara took the hand he offered, weaving her fingers around his. They walked hand in hand, the castle looming above them.

  “Geoffrey? Was that, um, the usual way?”

  For him, definitely not. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt quite that way without even taking his own pleasure. “I don’t believe so.”

  Shy wasn’t a word he associated with Sara, but he was sure she opened and closed her mouth at least three times before speaking. He didn’t want to press her, but he ached to hear what she would say next.

  “I mean to say, is that what it feels like every time?”

  He stopped, turned her toward him, and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. This was madness, but he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  “Nay, not always.”

  Not ever.

  13

  Faye moved around the room, instructing a young chambermaid to stoke the fire and take away the wash bowl.

  “One minute you’re visiting the kitchen and the next you’re jaunting down to the beach—all while your cousin is practically at Kenshire’s gates.”

  If Faye had been a typical servant, Sara would never have allowed her to be so bold. But theirs wasn’t a normal relationship, and most of the time Sara was glad for it.

  Just not at the moment.

  Using her most authoritative tone, Sara said, “Firstly, I was not jaunting but walking. I desperately needed to clear my head. And secondly, as well you know, Randolf is not my cousin.” She looked pointedly at the young maid, whom Faye promptly dismissed.

  Faye put her free hands firmly on her wide hips. “Call it what you will, but your father would have never allowed you to roam free under such circumstances.”

  Sara sat on the edge of her bed, feeling slightly guilty for omitting much of the true story. “He would never have known unless someone was keen to tell him, Mistress Faye—just like someone did the last time I was caught there after sunset.” She gave her an arch look.

  Faye made a most unladylike sound.

  “I was well-protected, in any case.”

  “Aye, I imagine you were.”

  Sara didn’t know if it was her imagination, or if Faye truly did suspect what she and Geoffrey had done on the beach. Willing herself not to blush, she said, “Besides, my men are following Randolf and his small retinue. I was never in any danger.”

  “I don’t doubt Sir Geoffrey is well-suited to protect you, my lady. But who will protect you from him?”

  Before she could answer, the chambermaid rushed back inside, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady, but Sir Hugh and the scouting party have arrived. They’re asking for you.”

  Faye looked down at Sara’s thin chemise and sprang into action. “The breeches will be quicker.” Then Sara said to the maid, “Tell Hugh I will receive him and the captain in my solar.”

  When Sara walked into the solar, it was already occupied by Sir Hugh, Peter, Eddard, and Gerald. Sir Geoffrey was notably absent.

  Peter spoke first. “We apologize for the late hour, my lady.”

  Sara waved him off. “What news?”

  “We’re still waiting for the search party. They traveled southwest—the most likely path for Covington’s army,” Eddard began, “but the rest of us saw no sign of any of his men, Lady Sara.”

  “What’s your current assessment then?”

  “We’ve no evidence that Covington is backing Randolf’s claim other than his own words and a rumor which he himself may have started.”

  All eyes turned to the door that had just opened. Geoffrey. Sara’s heart thumped at the sight of him. “As you know, gentlemen,” he continued, “besieging a castle such as Kenshire would involve assembling and paying an army, gathering supplies, and hauling them here at considerable expense,” said Geoffrey. “In my opinion, it’s unlikely Covington would go to that trouble on behalf of anyone other than himself, especially at the risk of angering the king. Again.”

  It seemed as if everyone began talking at once after that.

  Sara found it hard to concentrate with Geoffrey looking at her, his hair wet—had he taken his cold swim after all?—his eyes boring into her own.

  Willing herself back to the conversation, she spoke over the volume of opinions. “If Sir Geoffrey is correct, we must assume Randolf is planning something more nefarious than a siege. Else it would be foolish indeed for him to arrive at Kenshire with less than twenty men and a tenuous ‘claim.’”

  “And if he’s wrong?” Eddard asked. The gruff middle-aged man had a plentitude of scars that attested to his battle record.

  “Kenshire is prepared for Sir Randolf and Covington both,” she said. “Hugh has overseen much-needed fortifications at the gatehouse, and my father’s improvements to the castle in recent months have made it stronger than ever. We’ve plenty of food and water stockpiled in preparation, and only those essential to Kenshire’s safety remain as mouths to feed. All of our remaining visitors have left. We’ve been preparing for this day since my father took ill.”

  Warming to her topic, she continued. “We’re not ruling out a counter-attack if an army does arrive on our doorstep, and Lord Thornhurst is only one of my family’s many vassals who have pledged men if necessary. Messengers are already in position awaiting our signal. If Geoffrey is wrong, which I don’t think he is, we’re as prepared as we’ll ever be.”

  Though Geoffrey grimaced at the mention of Lord Thornhurst, he looked … impressed.

  Everyone was quiet for a moment before Eddard, who had been in Kenshire’s service since he was sent to squire at Kenshire, said, “Lady Sara is right.” Then, for her ears only, he murmured, “Your father would be proud.”

  She couldn’t help a small smile at that.

  “Come, we’ve work to do,” Eddard said. “Hugh, may I speak with you a moment?”

  Eddard and the other men filed out of the solar one by one. Peter beamed at her on his way out. Eventually only she and Geoffrey remained. He approached her slowly and deliberately, but stopped a good distance away. Both of them were aware that his uncle stood outside the door with Eddard.

  “It seems every time I bid you a good night, circumstances intervene to bring us back together.”

  She couldn’t think past Geoffrey’s potent, distinctive scent, now layered with the smell of the sea. She attempted to steady her voice. It was easier addressing a room full of warriors than it was this one man. “Why is that, do you believe?”

  “That’s the very question I pondered in my chamber before being summoned to you once again.”

  It was pointless to speak her truth—their situation had not changed—but she could not stop herself. “Do you want to know what I think?” she said softly.

  “Aye.”

  “We share a connection unlike any I’ve ever known. I think I’m drawn to you, and I think you feel the same.”

  “Sara…”

  “Nay, don’t say it. I already know. I beg forgiveness for rushing to judgment when you arrived and for not allowing you and your uncle to prove yourselves.” She hesitated before adding, “But most of all, I mourn that this cannot be.”

  She knew her duty to her people and would not abandon it. But she also cared for this man who was so much more than a reiver.

  There was nothing more to say.

  With a quick squeeze of his hand, Sara turned and walked away.

  Just a few hours afte
r their encounter, Kenshire was buzzing with activity. Outside the castle walls, the rising sun heralded a new autumn day as villagers went about their routines. Inside the castle, it was a different story. Pots of water were placed on walls and in towers to detect mining tunnels in case Randolf attempted an underground entry. The granaries were inventoried, additional guards were put on alert, and catapults were placed into position.

  Geoffrey had taken part in similar preparations on a smaller scale many times in Bristol. Life along the border meant maintaining constant vigilance. Not that it had done them any good. In the end, they had failed. He had failed. He should have been there to help his sire defend their home. Instead, his home and his parents had been taken from him.

  He’d be damned if he let the same thing happen to Sara.

  He wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but her battle had become his. His uncle was right—Bristol could wait a few weeks longer. He would see Sara safely wed.

  The thought formed a knot in his stomach.

  While he longed to be preparing for battle with the others, Geoffrey was grateful duty required him to keep Lady Sara in his sights. He trusted no one else, even her own men, to keep her safe. In the meantime, he continued to quietly inquire after a certain servant, but he learned nothing of import. Peter informed him that no suspicions had ever been raised concerning the cupbearer.

  During preparations for the midday meal, usually the largest and best attended, he pulled a serving maid aside in the hopes of gleaning information.

  “A word?” He recognized the girl from the kitchen the day before. She’d been following him with her eyes, and he hoped her interest would incline her to help.

  “With pleasure, my lord,” said the blonde-haired maid.

  “Margaret, correct?”

  “Aye, milord.”

  He allowed the courtesy again, using his perceived station to his advantage.

  “I hesitate to ask you something, but I feel you’re able to keep a secret.”

  Margaret moved closer, deliberately misunderstanding.

  “You can ask me anything ye please,” she answered.

  Geoffrey was surprised at his body’s lack of response. She was beautiful, obviously willing, and yet he didn’t feel the slightest stirring.