Fool's Paradise

by Tori Phillips

  Tarleton’s first feathery kiss left Elizabeth’s lips burning with fire. As his arms enfolded her, she felt the cloak slip from her shoulders. The cool dampness of his skin pressed against hers as he drew her to him. Then his mouth delved into hers with the jolt of lightning, its current jumping through her skin, igniting a hundred fiery sparks. Stealing her arms around his neck, she buried her hands in the tangle of his thick hair as a maelstrom of new, raw emotions gripped her.

  Elizabeth was shocked at her own eager response to the touch of his lips, yet she throbbed for more His tongue darted between her teeth, searching for hers. Fireworks exploded behind her closed lids as her tongue answered his quest. She could barely breathe.

  The suddenness and urgency of her response surprised Tarleton. Her firm breasts flattened against his chest, her hardened nipples pressing into him. His manhood throbbed with sweet, hard agony as he grasped her rounded hips, pulling her hungrily to himself. His mind swam in a colorful confusion. One small part of his sanity shrieked a warning. Even as Elizabeth clutched him greedily, he knew he was sealing their eventual doom. It wasn’t too late—not yet. Growling deep in his throat, he wrenched himself away from her. Surprised, Elizabeth collapsed onto the grass.

  “Why did you do that?” She panted, her body throbbing in a hundred different places. “Is something wrong?”

  Tarleton turned away from her. His scars stood out in silent, screaming testimony. The muscles of his trim buttocks tightened visibly.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she continued, trying to understand the strange vibrations that sent a thousand shocks through her body.

  Tarleton’s shoulders slumped; he emitted a low groan.

  “Did I hurt you?” She stood, pulling the cape about her. “Where does it hurt?”

  “In my heart, fair lady,” he whispered, still not looking at her. “You have mortally wounded my heart.”

  “What?” she asked, not daring to believe what he said.

  Tarleton glanced around. Seeing her standing by the river, his eyes burned like living coals in his sockets. With her nakedness only partially covered by the damp cloak, she looked like a water sprite come to seduce him.

  He cleared his throat. “You are beautiful, brave and extremely desirable,” he said, slowly picking his words. His gaze wandered down from her enormous eyes, to her soft shoulders, finally resting on her barely concealed breasts. She moved toward him and the cloak parted, revealing one silky thigh and the sweet secret place above.

  Licking his dry lips, Tarleton sought her eyes again. Jesu! They were emerald green with passion. “The truth of the matter is, I want to take you in my arms and never let you go. I want to explore your body, to taste your sweetness, and to teach you what it is to be truly loved by a man.”

  He tore himself away from the bewitching apparition before him. Instead, he stared at the rushing river. “But you are a lady of property, as well as the Queen’s goddaughter. You are meant for the bed of some fine lord, and he will not want… damaged goods. I have sworn to protect your virtue—not to take it!”

  Scooping up a handful of pebbles, he flung one with his considerable strength into the water. “So, I beg you, Lady Elizabeth, please get dressed, and let us forget this madness. I was wrong to kiss you as if you were some country wench. The fault is mine.” He pitched another stone; it glanced off the willow tree on the opposite shore.

  Elizabeth was not sure if she could move. Her mind blazed with half-formed questions, half-expressed emotions. She felt awake and alive, yet powerless at the same time.

  “I have been kissed before,” she began slowly. “Sir Robert kissed me once or twice when my betrothal contract was signed. But his kiss was not like yours.”

  Again Tarleton looked over his shoulder. The sunlight played in the white fire of her golden hair. He felt the magnetism of her deep, entrancing eyes. At the sight of the lush creamy curves of her ripe body, the sword between his legs rose stiffly to attention.

  “Sir Robert’s kisses were dead,” Elizabeth continued. “His lips were those of a wet, slimy fish. It was all I could do to kiss him back.”

  Tarleton clenched the remaining pebbles in his fist, the stones biting into his palm. He prayed the pain would help keep his perspective.

  The tip of Elizabeth’s pink tongue ran over her lips. “I thought I would get used to his kisses. After all, what do I know what happens between a man and a woman? It wasn’t until I met you, and I saw the way the serving wenches and Peg acted, that I realized there was something more to love. But I didn’t know what it was. I only knew they found pleasure in your kisses, while I… I did not take any pleasure in Sir Robert’s.”

  Tarleton gritted his teeth. “You are not a serving wench in some beggarly inn, nor even sweet Peg in her kitchen,” he said hoarsely. “You are Lady Elizabeth Hayward of Esmond Manor. You do not take a tumble in some hayloft for a sixpence!”

  “No!” she snapped. A bitter smile cut across her mouth. “I take a tumble in a canopied bed! I am property, bought and sold to the highest noble bidder. You sing sweet words of love under the greenwood tree, but those songs are not for me. Love doesn’t enter into marriage negotiations. After I am wedded and bedded, my estates will become my husband’s. Then I am expected to produce children, who will inherit my fine estate, and who will make advantageous marriages—for even more money!” She muffled a sob.

  Tarleton turned, the full glory of his manhood displayed without shame before her.

  As she gazed at his golden body, Elizabeth’s heart lurched wildly. She could not suppress an exclamation of admiration. He stood so close to her, she could feel the heat of his desire.

  “There is nothing I can do, my lady,” Tarleton said. His voice sounded as if it were lost in the wind, though his hard body played false with his words.

  Their eyes locked as their breathing came in unison. The blood coursed through Elizabeth’s veins like an awakened river plunging heedlessly toward a precipice. Tarleton was a forest god, his face filled with expressions of love and pain as he stood proudly among the greenwood trees. Greedily filling her vision with his magnificent body, she saw how much he wanted her. His need and her overwhelming response to him gave her the courage to continue.

  “There is something,” she answered softly. “Do what you said you wanted to do. Take me in your arms, and teach me what love is.”

  Tarleton expelled all the air from his lungs. “Sweet lady! I dare not—” Though his eyes dared a great deal more as he drank in her beauty.

  Elizabeth took a step closer to him. “Harken to me, Tarleton… Dickon. When we arrive at Hampton Court, you will hand me up to the bidding block. For the rest of my life, I will have no choice whose lips claim mine, whose body lies next to mine. But I vow I will not become another Lady Margaret who takes young boys for comfort.” A sense of urgency drove Elizabeth on. “Until we come to court, I am as free as any maiden on a May Day. Take my virtue, Dickon. I give it to you willingly. I want, for one time in my life, to be held and kissed and loved for myself—not for my estates. Give me something I can dream about when I am in the depths of a wintry marriage.”

  Elizabeth’s pleading eyes caught his, drowning him in their emerald depths. The hammering of his heart roared in his ears, blotting out the voice of reason.

  “Fair Elizabeth, think of what you are asking me.” The sweetness of her lavender soap, mingling with her stronger female musk, assailed his nostrils like an intoxicating perfume Her warm invitation was irresistible; he ached for fulfillment. “You will be disgraced forever.” His voice broke with huskiness. “And I will dance my last jig on a gibbet for debauching you.”

  “No one will ever know,” she whispered. Reaching out to him, she let the cloak slip to the ground.

  He stifled a low groan. The mere touch of her fingers on his arm sent a bolt of fire through him.

  Elizabeth continued in a low musical tone. “I will say I was taken when I was in France by a member of the King’s cour
t. I will tell my husband that I was but a girl and too frightened to know what to do. I will say I never dared tell anyone, save my confessor.” Tilting her head, she smiled provocatively at Tarleton.

  “And where did you learn to weave such a tale?” Every one of his nerve endings quivered. She was a witch!

  “It happened to a close friend of mine at school.” Elizabeth’s eyes grew misty. “She was thirteen, and she cried in my lap when she whispered the story to me. She was so terrified. Oh, Dickon, I don’t want to be terrified! Please, help me.” Her searching fingers lightly brushed his cheek. “Teach me how to love you.”

  He could barely speak. His cheek burned where she touched it. A nerve throbbed against his temple. His shaft was a firebrand. “‘Twill hurt you, ladybird.”

  “I know,” she answered softly, still stroking his smooth cheek.

  “There will be blood.”

  “I know.” As if poised on tiptoe, her whole being ached for him. The prolonged anticipation was unbearable. “Please, Dickon?” she whispered.

  Tarleton’s heart exploded in his chest. Sweeping her into his arms, he smothered her lips with his fevered kisses. Moaning in the back of her throat, she quivered at the passion of his embrace.

  “I will try to be gentle,” he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek.

  “I know.” Twining her arms around his neck, Elizabeth returned his kisses with joyful abandon.

  Gently Tarleton eased her down onto the flattened grass. In wonder, he traced his finger over the line of her neck to the sweet hollow where her shoulder met. Moaning softly, she grew limp and yielding as his fingertips outlined the circles of her breasts. She gasped his name as his thumb caressed the underside of the soft mounds.

  “Are you sure you want this, my darling?” he murmured, praying that she did, for he didn’t think he could stop himself now.

  “Oh yes, Dickon!” she breathed.

  “I love you—” he began, but she placed her hand gently across his lips.

  “Don’t say it,” she whispered. “It is enough that you are here with me now. Some things are best left unspoken, remember?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment to blot out her indictment. Taking his hand in hers, she brought it to her lips. Slowly she kissed each of his fingers in turn. The touch of her mouth hurled him to the pinnacle of abandonment.

  “But for me, you are my only love, Dickon,” she continued. “Now and forever.” Her tongue laved the palm of his hand.

  Tarleton’s gaze tenderly caressed her. Elizabeth loved him! The shock of her admission sent his blood racing through him at a breakneck speed. There could be no holding back now.

  “May God help us both, my darling!” Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him, drinking deeply of her nectar.

  Elizabeth couldn’t get enough of him. His kisses sent new spirals of ecstasy through her. When their lips finally broke apart, she felt as if she were drifting on a misty cloud. She drew in her breath as his fingers glided over her breasts. With each exquisite stroke, quivers of fiery arrows ricocheted through her body. Taking a rosy bud between his thumb and forefinger, Tarleton gently rolled it. Her nipples firmed instantly under his touch. The mixture of pain and pleasure was almost more than she could bear. A deep warmth spread up from her loins. Bending his head, his lips touched the hardened peak with tantalizing possessiveness. Playfully he suckled her. Gasping in sweet agony, Elizabeth dug her fingers into his thick curls, pulling him closer to her. She writhed in response to his exquisite love play. There was no escape from his sweet torture. Her legs parted, leaving her open, moist and throbbing.

  “My sweet lady,” he whispered. Lying down beside her, he slipped a supporting hand under the small of her back.

  Gently he massaged her silken belly in slow, languid circles, each rotation edging closer to the golden fleecy triangle of her essence. With each movement her world spun and careened on its axis.

  Tarleton’s lips explored her soft, ivory flesh. When he lifted her to himself, the hardened peaks of her breasts crushed against the curly hair of his chest. Slowly his hand slid down her taut stomach to the swell of her hips. She shivered when his hardness brushed against her thigh. Elizabeth whispered his name over and over. The sound of it sang like sweetest music in his ears.

  “Not yet, my darling,” he murmured, nibbling on her earlobe. “Not until you’re ready.”

  As he spoke, his hand skimmed along her thighs, then dipped between them. Elizabeth reacted as if she had been stung. Raining feathery kisses on her ear, her cheek, her eyes, her neck, Tarleton continued to caress her intimately. As he aroused her, Elizabeth’s body instinctively arched to meet his. The cloud she drifted on soared, dipped, then soared again under his masterful stroking. Opening like a rose in the warm rays of a summer sun, her petals unfolded for him. A passion gripped her, banishing her thoughts. His fingers were a conjurer’s, commanding her to the dance of love. His expert touch sent her up to the blazing sun.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, she shattered into a million glowing stars. The descent afterward was steep and delicious. She whimpered in sweet ecstasy. Each silvery quiver was a delightful aftershock. Through the soft haze in her mind, she heard his low laugh, like the purr of a large cat.

  “Now let us go together, my love” Tarleton whispered. He lowered his body on top of her, tucking her curves neatly into his own contours. He kissed her lingeringly, his tongue gliding in and out of her mouth in slow strokes while his hands caressed the softness of her thighs.

  Half freezing, half aflame, Elizabeth cried out for release. Then she knew he was at her portal—tense, tight, yet wet. Her eyes flew open. Tarleton’s face was mere inches from her own. His deep brown eyes smoldered with passion, though he smiled tenderly at her.

  “‘Tis time for both of us,” he whispered. She trembled under his fingers. “A few seconds more, then there will never be pain again.”

  Elizabeth nodded, then held her breath. This was what she had asked for, what she feared and wanted at the same time. Whispering his name, she moaned as she welcomed him into her body. Tarleton’s mouth sought Elizabeth’s as he moved quickly within her.

  White-hot, searing fire ripped through her. Whimpering, she dug her nails into his skin and buried her face in his neck. Every muscle in his back tensed under her fingertips. He moved more slowly again and again. With each stroke, the pain faded as her passion grew to explosive proportions. Fiery tingling surged through her, soaring higher and higher until the peak of delight was reached. Tarleton was true to his word: he took her with him to paradise.

  Again Elizabeth’s world exploded in a star-burst, engulfing her in a shower of fiery sensations. Tarleton cried out in joyful triumph as his love flowed into her like warm honey. He kissed her face, her eyes, the tip of her nose, whispering her name over and over as if it were his own private prayer. Elizabeth was filled with an amazing sense of completeness. Sighing with pleasant exhaustion, she pillowed her head on his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her quietly.

  Slowly opening her eyes, Elizabeth felt as if she had been very far away and was now being pulled back to reality. Taking a deep, soul-drenching breath, she nodded.

  “Good.” He brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead. “Let’s see what damage is done.” He eased himself off her.

  Elizabeth flushed crimson when she felt the warm trickle of blood ooze down her leg. Suddenly shy, she was embarrassed that Tarleton should see her vulnerability. She threw her arm over her eyes to shield herself from his gaze.

  “You were right.” He chuckled. “You were undoubtedly a virgin.” Cupping some water from the river, Tarleton gently washed her.

  As she tried to hold back her tears, a sob escaped Elizabeth’s lips. Tarleton lifted her into his arms, as if she were a small child who had fallen and skinned her knee.

  “Darling, darling Elizabeth, please don’t cry.” He rocked her gently, stroking her cheeks. “Does it still hurt? Oh, sweetling, forgiv
e me. I wish I had been more skilled.”

  “What do you mean—more skilled?” Elizabeth asked tremulously.

  Tarleton smiled a little crookedly. “I mean, I wish I knew the art of deflowering virgins. I fear you were my first.”

  “First?” She blinked at him through her tears. He looked like a small boy who had been caught stealing sweetmeats.

  “Yes, my first virgin. I… umm… never met a forsworn virgin before—at least, not intimately. All of my other… ah… the others were more experienced.” Tarleton turned a little red about the ears.

  Elizabeth found his discomfort oddly endearing. “Then we are a matched pair. You are my first lover and I am your first virgin.”

  He kissed her on the nose. “They say you never forget your first time.”

  The corners of Elizabeth’s mouth turned upward. “Really?” She ran her fingers lightly through his chest hair. Curling one of the tendrils around her finger, she tugged it gently. “Tell me about yours.”

  “Oh, no, ladybird! It was highly embarrassing!”

  “Tell me,” she softly commanded, still playing with the wiry curls.

  He shivered at her teasing touch. “I was fifteen, and soundly drunk. ‘Twas the only way I could muster the courage. Even so, the wench had to guide me. Afterward, I threw up in the straw. It wasn’t the girl, ‘twas the sack wine. Rotten stuff, sack wine.” He kissed her maddening fingers.

  Elizabeth rested quietly in his arms, then she giggled. “Remember when you made me sing at that wretched Blue Boar?”

  “Aye.” Tarleton glanced at her with an amused eye.

  “You told me that my first performance would be like losing my virginity—I’d be scared to death and not enjoy it. Well, you were only half-right. I was frightened, but I enjoyed it immensely!”