He pushed the door closed behind him. Whatever she had to say, his men outside didn’t need to hear.
Claire inhaled a shaky breath. Her blue eyes blazed, glittering with accusation. She clearly wasn’t going to apologize to him. Did she mean to continue their disagreement from earlier?
“You wished to speak to me?” he demanded.
“The infusion,” she answered, gesturing to the mug on the trestle table. “Either that or the liqueur we drank earlier.”
She didn’t seem herself. Her mouth wobbled, as though she hovered at the edge of an emotional abyss, about to erupt in a thunderstorm of fury or burst into tears.
“What about the infusion?”
She blotted her forehead with her sleeve. “’Twas…not right.”
“What do you mean? How was it not right?” He strode to the table and picked up the near empty mug of greenish brew.
“It does not usually taste so strongly of honey. I thought, at first, that could just be because of the way the infusion was brewed tonight, but—”
Suspicion scratched at the back of his mind. Fighting to control a fresh surge of rage, he asked quietly, “Who made the infusion for you?”
“I do not know. ’Twas on the table when I returned from the hall. The fire was tended and water left out for my wash, so I assumed the maidservant had left it for me—as she used to do before your conquest. I am certain, though, ’twas not any brew brought by the maidservant. Not the way I feel now.”
Tye raised the mug to his nose and inhaled. There, underneath the pungent tang of mint: the murky essence he’d anticipated. The aphrodisiac his mother kept on hand for when her lovers, including Braden, needed some encouragement.
Damn her! How much had his mother poured into Claire’s drink? The way his own lust raged, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d meddled with the liqueur and the wine in his solar, too.
Claire moved closer. “You do not believe me.” She was near enough now that he caught her milk-and-honey scent. His whole body roused, acutely aware of her nearness and what he longed to do with her.
He set the mug down. Fury over his mother’s actions mingled with his own frustration that he hadn’t foreseen such a nasty ploy. “I do believe you. There is an essence I recognize in the infusion’s scent: a strong aphrodisiac.”
“Aphrodisiac!” Claire gasped and blushed scarlet. “You mean herbs that are meant to…to…”
She looked so appalled, he wanted to laugh. However, ’twas not a situation in which he wanted to find the slightest humor. “Aye.”
Anger lit her eyes. “Who would do such a vile thing? Did you put it in my drink?”
“Of course not!”
“I thought mayhap ’twas why you had summoned me to the hall, so you could have the tainted infusion delivered to my chamber.”
“I had no part in tainting your drink,” he said firmly. “I promise you.”
She pressed her lips together, as though deciding whether or not to believe him. “How long will I feel this way?”
“Once the potion has worn off, likely by morning, you will feel as usual.”
“As usual.” A strangled laugh broke from her. “Naught is as usual here. Not anymore.”
The uncertainty in her voice, combined with a hint of despair, made him long to draw her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Fueled by the desire singing in his veins, the yearning became almost beyond his control. He drew in a slow, calming breath.
“You say you are familiar with the essence,” she said. “How?”
“I know someone who has used it before.”
“You have a good idea, then, who is responsible.”
“I do.”
“Tell me his or her name. I demand—”
“Demand all you like. I have no proof. I will not condemn someone who may have had naught to do with tonight’s deception.” While he doubted one of the servants had taken the aphrodisiac from his mother’s belongings, ’twas not impossible. Once he was done here, he’d find his mother. If she was responsible, he’d expect an explanation.
Claire sighed harshly and wiped her flushed face with her hand. “Who would do such a thing to me? For what purpose?” Tears welled along her bottom lashes. “’Tis a vile trick, and I…I…”
Her eyelids fluttered. She wavered on her feet. Tye instinctively caught her elbow, and she sagged against him. His arm wrapped around her, and he inhaled the luscious, tantalizing scent of her.
She looked up at him, her face dangerously close to his. “The way I feel, right now—”
“How do you feel?” he whispered. He ached to kiss her, touch her, have her, no matter the consequences.
“Like my skin is on fire,” she whispered back.
“On fire,” he repeated softly. He knew exactly how she felt. His gaze dropped to the pink fullness of her lips.
“My heart is racing,” she went on.
“Mmm.” His own pulse slammed against his ribs. Could she hear it, where she leaned against him, with her fingers pressed into his tunic?
“My lips…” Shyness and craving touched her expression.
“Your lips,” he coaxed, brushing his fingers down the side of her reddened cheek.
“They long to kiss you.” Before he could say a word, before he could begin to think about the possibilities ahead, she rose on tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
He kissed her back with all the longing and lust tormenting him. She tasted as he remembered: delicious and sweet.
“Claire.” His greedy hands slid from her waist, moving down the sumptuous cloth of her gown until they settled on the rounded curves of her bottom. With a growl, he pulled her hips flush against his, showing her just how much she affected him.
She tensed, but didn’t struggle to break free.
“I do not want to be alone, not feeling like this,” she pleaded. “Tye, I want—”
“Want?” he urged and then slid his tongue against hers. She mimicked the teasing thrusts of his tongue, and his lust spiked to fever pitch.
“I want to…be with you.”
He froze. Excitement whipped through him. A cry of caution sounded, too, but the roaring pleasure and desire inside him swiftly drowned out the protest. “I want to be with you, too,” he whispered against her mouth. Kissing her deeply, he slid his arms under her, lifted her into his arms, and headed for the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Claire lifted her head from the muscled pillow of Tye’s shoulder as he strode into the solar. With a nudge of his booted foot, he shut the door.
Her head was still careening from the aphrodisiac in the infusion. And from him. Being in his arms, cradled against his hard body, made her yearnings even more intense. There was such pleasure in just being in his embrace, of feeling safe and protected and desired, if only for one night.
The quietude of the solar settled around them as Tye walked to the hearth. The fire was the solar’s only source of illumination. None other was needed, though, for as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she clearly saw the carved chair facing the blaze, the cat with a bandaged leg dozing by the hearth—Patch, from the stables—and the massive bed.
When her gaze skimmed the rumpled bedding, a tremor ran through her. She might be a virgin, but she knew what men and women did together in bed; she and Mary had talked about it several times when Claire had expected Henry to ask for her hand in marriage. Claire had no doubt why Tye had brought her here. She’d told him she wanted him, after all. ’Twas no lie; she did desire him. She ached for him, with a hunger that threatened to consume her if ’twas not quenched.
Part of her thrilled at the thought of lying with him, and yet…part of her was uneasy. She’d never expected to lie with anyone but Henry, once they were married. Now, she was going to lie with a man who had promised her naught, a rogue who’d had many lovers and who would most likely cast her aside in a few days.
Stop this foolishness while you still can, the voice of reason cried. Tell Tye the potion mad
e you speak unwisely. Go back to your chamber.
That advice could have come from Lady Brackendale. Yet, Claire craved Tye, as she’d wanted no other man—truth be told, even Henry. The craving enticed her to stay, to seize this offered pleasure because she wanted it. Once she left Wode to live with her aunt, she’d forever be a spinster. Here, now, she had a chance to know what ’twas like to be a woman desired by a man.
Halting near the hearth, Tye turned his head and claimed her mouth in slow, thorough kisses that stirred a heated glow within her. He might be a rogue, but he made her heart soar with his kisses and his smile, and he’d brought excitement and wonder into her life.
Finally breaking the kiss, Tye set her down, releasing her slowly so that her body slid against his. She landed on her feet, glad of his arm around her waist, for she was still lightheaded. A sigh rattled in her throat, and his smoldering stare fixed on her lips, his expression stark with need.
A thrill chased through her, for that need was for her. That a man like him could want her…’Twas astonishing and wonderful.
“Kitten,” he whispered, his voice ragged.
The raw emotion in his eyes touched her like a caress. She burned inside, burned only for him. His mouth descended upon hers, and she kissed him back, taking all of the passion he offered and asking for more. Tye’s kisses grew bolder, claiming her lips, conquering her tongue. She gasped, shuddered, her hands lifting to cradle his face, to touch him as their mouths suckled and nibbled and molded together. The fever inside her flared. She strained against him, yearning for something but not knowing quite what. Her skin felt taut, hot, and—
A groan broke from him, and his hands at her waist slid up. His wet mouth glided against hers, while his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts. The light touch sent a fiery jolt running through her. And then, his hands moved again, and his thumbs stroked over her hardened nipples.
“Oh, mercy,” she moaned, pleasure spiraling straight to that secret, private place between her legs.
“Do you like that?” he murmured, his thumbs stroking again. He nuzzled her cheek and his breath fanned across her jaw.
She gasped, her eyes closing, the sensations almost too exquisite to bear. The rational voice inside her shrilled again, insisted she should step away and deny Tye, but the heat inside her licked hotter and hotter. The tiny voice was consumed by a flare of wanting.
She was vaguely aware of moving, of the back of her legs hitting the bed frame. His kisses fierce and deep, Tye eased her down, his broad body coaxing hers to sit on the coverlet and then move backward to lie on the bedding. The bed ropes squeaked as the mattress adjusted to their weight.
He pulled off his boots and crawled onto her. Shifting his weight to one elbow, he lowered himself to her right side, looked down into her face, and brushed stray strands of hair from her cheek with careful fingers.
“Kitten.” The gentleness of his voice brought tears to her eyes.
“I need…” she began, but didn’t know how to convey what she wanted. “I ache for…”
“I know,” he whispered. His lips pressed to hers while his fingers glided from her cheek to her throat, and then spread wide upon her gown. Tingling fire skittered over her skin, following the path of his left hand as he slowly trailed it down to cover her left breast.
A mewl broke past her lips. Her hips tilted up, an instinctive response to his touch as he cupped her breast and teased, caressed. Her chemise and gown rubbing against her sensitized skin would surely drive her mad.
“Tye,” she moaned, her head thrashing. An awful restlessness consumed her. She had to appease it. Now. With him.
His hand lifted from her breast. Missing the heat, desperate for his caress, she opened her eyes. His expression was a heart-wrenching blend of desire and tenderness.
Frustration churned inside her. “Why did you stop touching me?”
He kissed her again.
“Do you not want me?”
He laughed, the sound rough with disbelief. “I want you. More than I can ever say.”
“Then—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. She gazed up at him, silenced but wanting.
Please, she silently cried. How desperately she wanted him to touch her, to show her what to do, to help her satisfy the overwhelming hunger. Naught else mattered, except easing the sensual ache.
He drew in a breath, as if he was going to speak. Nay. Talking wouldn’t ease the fire within her. Parting her lips, she slicked her tongue over his finger. His skin tasted salty. Wonderful.
A hissed oath rushed between his teeth, and he rolled off her and sat up abruptly.
She blinked away tears. He sat with his back to her. She wanted to weep, for she had no idea why he’d drawn away. Her emotions felt bruised, volatile. As he swept his hand over his mouth, she rose up onto her knees behind him, wobbling on a rush of dizziness.
He’d said he wanted her. Mayhap, somehow, she hadn’t proven to him how much she wanted him? A more experienced woman would have made her desires very clear.
She must show Tye that she wished to lie with him, bare skin to bare skin. Maidenly modesty would not achieve what she wanted.
Her hands shaking, Claire reached for the hems of her gown and chemise and tugged the garments up over her legs, thighs, and hips, and higher still. She slipped off her silken hose. Now wearing only firelight, she tossed her wadded clothing aside.
Tye glanced over his shoulder. “Claire—”
He stilled. His eyes widened and then narrowed in a purely predatory, appreciative stare. As his ravenous gaze raked down her naked body, triumph surged through her.
Ah, God, she was exquisite. From her flushed face to her elegant neck and high breasts with rosy-pink nipples, to the smooth flatness of her belly and the downy thatch between her thighs, Claire was even more exceptional than he’d imagined. Tye’s desire became an inferno, raging and insistent.
She was his.
He would make her his, here, tonight.
An awed growl rumbled in his throat as he faced her and rose to his knees in front of her, towering over her. He buried a hand into her hair and kissed her upturned face. She sighed against his mouth, kissed him back with equal fervor, and yet, she shivered.
He lifted his lips from hers. “Are you cold, Kitten? This chamber can be drafty—”
“I am not cold.”
She was nervous, then. He kissed her gently. “Do not be afraid.”
“I am not.”
“Why are you shivering, then?”
A shy laugh broke from her. “I do not know. I guess… Mayhap I am uncertain.”
As he’d expected. She was an innocent. He would be her first lover.
The thought filled him with a powerful rush of pleasure. As she smiled up at him, though, so incredibly lovely, he couldn’t dismiss a niggling sense of reluctance. His mind was muzzy from the liqueur and aphrodisiac, but he still had enough wits about him to know her passion was induced by the herbal potion. She wasn’t her true self. If she were in full control of her senses, would she still be naked and begging him to couple with her?
Her hands slid under his tunic, drawing his full attention back to her. His fingers worked their way under his shirt, and he inhaled sharply at the touch of her bare skin on his. Laughing softly, she caught the hems of his garments and tugged them up and over his head.
Throwing the clothes aside, she stared at his naked chest. Despite his many scars, some of them jagged and furrowed, she didn’t seem repulsed by what she saw. Thank God.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, kissing his cheek and trailing little kisses down to his mouth.
“Kitten,” he began, but she claimed his lips, swirled her tongue into his mouth with such uncanny skill, he forgot what he intended to say and kissed her back. Lost again to his hunger, he leaned into her and pressed her down onto her back, nudging her thighs apart so that he settled between them. His chest crushed against her plump, warm bosom. His manhood, as hard as rock an
d straining against his braies and hose, pressed into the dampness between her legs.
She gasped.
He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut.
He dipped his head to press his forehead to hers, flexed his hips again, the feel of her against his swollen flesh almost his undoing. As she moaned and shifted her hips, he shuddered. Ah, God. Too close.
“Tye,” she whimpered. “Please.”
He groaned again, his breath coming in harsh pants, for he ached to free himself from his clothes, to plunge into her hot, tight slickness. But she wasn’t thinking clearly. In the morning, once the aphrodisiac had faded, she’d be ashamed of lying with him. She might never speak to him again, and he cared too much for her to lose her that way.
His head pounded with the intensity of his thoughts. Did he dare take her virginity, thereby ruining her chances of marrying a rich lord husband? What if she got with child this night? That babe would be a bastard, just like him.
Mayhap ’twas what his mother intended: for Claire to be ruined and to conceive his babe. No doubt his parent was already planning to further her ambitions through Claire’s ruination—a thought that stirred his anger.
Pressing kisses to the side of Claire’s damp neck, he fought a crushing sense of indecision. He wanted Claire, very much. But there was far more to consider than what he selfishly desired.
He met her gaze. Her glazed eyes shadowed with confusion. “What is wrong? What—?”
His body screaming at the injustice, he shifted to break the intimate contact between them. “I cannot give you what you want,” he said softly. “Not like this.”
“Like this?”
“Under the spell of an aphrodisiac.”
Dismay shone in her eyes.
“I am sorry,” he added gently. “I may be a rogue and a bastard…but I will not ruin you.”
“I was right, earlier. You do not want me.” She sounded shaken, lost. She tried to squirm away, but he pushed up to sitting, locked his knees on either side of her thighs, and pinned her down.
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