One Snowy Knight
Page 37
She rotated even more and then fluttered her eyelashes. “Come hither, Noel de Servian.”
“Oh, you live dangerously, my lady.” He dropped the rag and reached backward to tug his sark off over his head. He dropped it on the bench and sat down beside it to unlace his boots.
Skena watched him with hungry eyes as he stood to undo the front of his chausses and then push them off along with his braies. “Ah, my braw husband.”
“Braw? Just braw?” He arched his brow. “Not beautiful?”
Her bare shoulder gave a small shrug. “Mayhap…hmm…a wee bit bonnie.”
“Bonnie? But not beautiful?” he taunted.
“’Tis said men do not like being called beautiful.” Skena tried to play innocent.
“Well, this one loves it.” Pushing her forward in the tub, he started to step into the hot water behind her.
“Och, what are you doing, my lord husband?” she gasped.
He gave a low throaty chuckle. “Well, I am coming…hither, wife.”
She scooted forward to give him a bit more room. Her laughter bubbled forth as water splashed over the edge. “I am not sure we will both fit. As Muriel said, there is so much of you.”
“Trust me. We will fit…perfectly. I told you I would show you that we could.” He slid his legs carefully on either side of hers, and once settled, pulled her back against his chest. “Not too cramped, eh?”
“Mmmm.” Skena almost purred as his arm encircled her. “I agree…. It might be near perfect. Such a clever husband I have.”
Noel nipped at her earlobe as his arms flexed to pull her more tightly to him. “Are you going to proclaim how clever I am after I beat you?”
“You will not beat me. You bray such nonsense—”
“Bray? How dare you compare me to a fool jackass, wench!” He flipped her in the tub, so she was half draped across him, her right hip exposed above water. Feeling devilish, he planted his palm against her backside.
“Och, that stings,” she complained, but playfully, telling him that it did not smart too much. “Why did you do that?”
“To prove I am a man of my word. I said I would beat you—so consider yourself properly beaten, wife. Now you will obey me and not run off and scare me out of ten years of my life. I am not a young man. Never again should you trouble me in such a fashion.”
“Me? Trouble?” she spluttered as she rotated in the tub to face him.
“Aye, trouble. You go dashing about in snowstorms—” He started to rail at her, but she moved her thigh between his, rocking gently against his groin. “Ah, that is…distracting.”
“Merely trying to help you come…hither.” Skena pressed her breasts against his chest and then nipped his chin. “Seems to me that I was dashing about in the snow when I found one snowy knight. Where would you be had I not been out causing trouble?”
Rolling his eyes, he pretended to think about the question. “Hmm…I suppose instead of the wolf being in my belly, I would be in his—”
Skena made a mournful face and thumped his chest. “How horrid! Never say such things. You do not know how scared I was that night.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, I do. I remember most of it. My valiant lady warrior. No one ever fought for me before you.” He stroked the back of his hand against her cheek. “I also recall how you faced the pack another time, to protect and provide for the people of Craigendan—another instance of your running about. I will not have it, Skena. Do not scare me like that ever again.”
“De Servian, do hush. Give me those kissing lessons to make me call you Noel again.” Skena brushed her lips against his. “I love you, more than words can ever tell you.”
He hefted Skena so she was sitting astride him, his hands gripping the firm globes of her derrière, torn between the driving physical desire clamoring within his blood to rule, and the need to make her understand all these wonderful emotions that were so new to him. The emotions won. “Words can mean a lot. I am not sure I will ever tire of hearing I…love…you—or saying it. I do love you, Skena. It scares me how much. ’Tis not an easy thing for a warrior to admit. I have stood before the mouth of hell unleashed, killed to keep from being killed, seen the vile brutality and ugliness that man can conjure. None of it terrifies me with the same depth as the fear of losing you.”
She rubbed her thumb slowly over his lower lip, totally mesmerized by the small caress. “I understand, my love. The moments I stood and watched you fight Daragh were the longest of my life. Every breath, I feared one slip and I would lose you. So I know the fear. I suppose in time, when we are old and gray, mayhap the fear will ease.”
“I would not wager anything of value on that.” He took her mouth in such tenderness that Skena’s shaky hand reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek, proclaiming her awe at the profound bond they shared. Still, his blood could be held at bay for only so long. A naked, wet Skena pressed against his body saw his reason melting and his passion taking control. His groin nearly cramped from the blood flooding his flesh, sending its pulsing hot length nudging against Skena’s mound.
“I wanted so to tell you of my love, what you bring to me. Will you be angry with me if other parts of my body rule?” he said against her lips.
Her eyes flashing, she slowly shook her head no. “I was wondering when we would get to the ‘come hither’ part.” She shifted so her body was open to him, her hips rotating gently, rocking the mushroom tip into her channel. “Use those other ways to warm me de Servian.”
“Noel,” he corrected. He bore down on her derrière with his palms, impaling her with a single trust.
Skena nearly purred. “Noel. My snowy knight with the name of Christmas.”
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Copyright © 2009 by Deborah MacGillivray
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