“I have wanted you,” he said against her mouth, “from the day you challenged me with the fire iron.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.” He grinned. “I will not couple with you, but I can still give you pleasure.” He caressed her cheek. “There are ways, if you will let me.”
“You will take away this unbearable craving?” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Will it…hurt? I have heard…”
“’Twill not hurt at all. I will make you cry out with pleasure.”
“Then…aye.”
His manhood throbbed, anticipation blazing within him like a freshly stoked fire. He kissed her lips and throat, coaxed her anew with his mouth and tongue until she writhed at his lightest touch. Then, moving down her body, he kissed a path between her breasts, down the smooth slope of her belly, until his head settled at the juncture of her thighs.
Rising up on her elbows, she frowned at him, her hair an endearing, tousled mess.
“What…?”
He dipped his head, lazily stroked his tongue over the bud of flesh cocooned in her downy fuzz. She gasped, her body flinching. He licked again and she collapsed back, her eyes closed, another gasp of wonder wrenching from her. He relished each sound. This night, she would know naught but sweet, shattering ecstasy. ’Twould be a night she’d never forget.
With his tongue and lips, he licked, suckled, and tormented. Her hands fisted into the bedding. Her head thrashed. Using her cries and gasps as his guide, he took her passion higher, higher.
He savored an intense, primal sense of satisfaction as her thrashing quickened. She panted, arched her back, and then tensed. She loosed a helpless, keening moan. He imagined himself buried inside her as she catapulted into pleasure, and a harsh breath tore from his lips.
“Tye! Oh—”
He licked again, swirled his tongue, and suckled. Dragging in a stunned breath, her hips lifted off the bed once more, her mouth open, her body convulsing on yet another peak of pleasure.
He slowed his tender assault, gentled his suckling, and drew away from her.
She lay sprawled on the bedding, breathing hard. How glorious she was in her naked, sated beauty. The desire inside him tightened to a breath away from release. He hadn’t wanted a woman this much since…ever.
Her drowsy eyes opened, and she smiled up at him. Then, she frowned, and her gaze dropped to his swollen manhood, straining against his hose. “What about you?” She pushed up on her elbows again and extended her hand, readying to caress him.
“Nay.” His fingers locked around her wrist. If she touched him, his fraying control would be lost.
“A-all right.”
“Not tonight,” he said, softening his denial with a kiss. When her eyes closed, he urged her to scoot up and rest her head on the pillows. She curled on her left side and he drew the bedding up about her shoulders. No doubt within a few moments she’d be asleep.
“Tye?” she murmured.
“Aye?”
“Thank you.”
A proud smile curved his lips. “Sleep now, Kitten.”
He crossed to the fire, where Patch opened his eyes a fraction but did not stir, unwilling to move from his cozy box. The blankets on the bed rustled, and Tye glanced over his shoulder to see Claire nestled deeper into the bedding, her eyes shut, her hair streaming across the pillow. His pillow.
She sighed, sounding thoroughly contented.
Tye turned back to the fire and smiled. He had brought her to that contentment. He had pleasured her as no other man ever had.
The relentless ache in his loins reminded him that he hadn’t slaked his own desire. He fought the hunger. He could satisfy the carnal need himself with a few skilled strokes of his hand, but that notion held little appeal; mayhap ’twas his penance to suffer this eve. He pulled his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair that at some point had come loose from its leather binding and laughed softly. The drink and the potion had definitely addled his mind.
The potion.
Fury flared anew, warring with Tye’s lust. That his mother would deceive him so, use him so, without concern for his wishes or feelings, left an ashy taste in his mouth.
He moved to the trestle table and poured more wine. Then, realizing ’twas likely tainted, he tossed what was in his mug as well as the jug into the fire. The flames hissed and smoked as he set the vessels aside and sank into the chair by the hearth.
“Damnation,” he muttered. At least the anger was defeating his lust. His flesh was no longer rock hard, but the desire would never vanish completely. He wanted Claire. He wanted her more than anything.
Except finally slaying his sire.
He rubbed the heel of his hand against his brow. A dull pain had settled in his forehead, likely caused by the aphrodisiac. ’Twould be best to sleep it off, but no way in hellfire was he going to lie next to Claire now, not until his blood had cooled.
His focus shifted to the letters and the journal he’d taken from Claire’s chamber. He’d read some of the letters, but not all. With a brisk tug, he took one from the stack of correspondence she’d received from her young lover. Tye’s grip instinctively tightened on the crisp, cured skin, for the lad had used fine-quality parchment; eager Henry had obviously intended to impress Claire with this proof of his wealth.
Bitter jealousy coiled through Tye. From all he’d seen and heard of Henry, the lad had been a good match for Claire; if he hadn’t died, he’d have given her a life of luxury and respectability—all the things Tye couldn’t offer her. Not now, at least. Not until his right to rule Wode had been validated by the King.
How very much Tye wanted Claire to be his, not just tonight, but forever.
His finger brushed the broken wax seal as he flipped the parchment page open and squinted at the lines of black ink. He silently sounded out each word, as Georgette had so patiently taught him.
My dearest Claire…
Claire woke with a start. She rubbed sleep from her eyes while assessing her shadowy surroundings. Her mind, groggy and sluggish from a brutal headache, recognized that the mattress beneath her was plumper than the one in her chamber, the sheets were softer, and the play of firelight across the stone wall ahead of her was different.
As she inhaled the scent of air-dried linens mingled with a faint, earthy male essence, recollections rushed into her mind: the potion; Tye coming to her chamber; Tye lifting her into his arms and carrying her to his bed.
She was still in his bed. Naked. Moreover, she still felt wonderfully languid from the incredible sensations he’d drawn from her willing flesh.
What he’d done to her… It had been most sinful, and even more so since she’d enjoyed it.
Claire rolled over onto her back and flung an arm over her face, fighting both dread and wicked excitement. Rolling over caused intense pain to focus at her brow. Groaning, she rubbed her forehead.
Across the chamber, a chair creaked.
“Kitten?” Tye neared the bedside, his bold presence softened by the golden glow of firelight. He still wore his hose, although he’d drawn on a black woolen robe. The front edges of the robe gaped where it tied at his waist, revealing the scars on the well-defined curve of his chest, the ripple of taut muscles across his stomach.
Tousled and partly naked, he was the most striking man she’d ever seen. Yet, she couldn’t quell a stirring of unease.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Her head hurt so much, she could barely think. “Terrible,” she whispered.
He sighed, and the bed dipped as he sat beside her. “Let me guess. Your head aches as if a blacksmith is making horseshoes out of your skull, and your stomach is ready to throw up yesterday’s fare.”
A grudging smile tugged at her mouth. “How do you know?”
“’Tis the aftereffects of the potion. I feel that way myself.”
The genuine concern in his eyes made her throat tighten. She shouldn’t be lying in his bed, speakin
g to him so freely, or care how he felt or what he thought. He was the enemy. Part of her, though, refused to believe that any longer.
Not after what they’d shared.
He rose, crossed the chamber, and returned with a goblet. He offered it to her. “’Tis fresh wine. I promise it does not contain any aphrodisiac.”
She pushed herself up to sitting. He sat beside her again, his attention dropping to her hand clutching the blankets to her bosom.
She took the vessel and drank.
“How do you feel otherwise?” he asked softly.
His rumbled words brushed over her, stirring a fresh wave of sinful longing. “All right,” she said.
“Just all right?” He shook his head, clearly disappointed. He was pretending to be disappointed, at least.
She couldn’t hold back a smile. “In truth, more than all right. What we did…you did…”
When she said no more, his brows rose, a clear request for her to continue.
She stared down into the wine. Their earlier intimacy was a most awkward and delicate subject, and yet she found herself distinctly curious. “Is the experience always that pleasurable?”
He grinned. “In most instances, aye.”
“I see. So there is some truth to what I have overheard when the maidservants think I am not listening.”
Tye chuckled. “What, pray tell, have you overheard?”
“Well, that if a man has skill at…um…his role in the… undertaking, then the act can be quite wonderful. However, if a man is drunk or is not…um…well-endowed…” She scowled. Judging from Tye’s crude snort, he was trying very hard to choke down laughter. “Now you are laughing at me.”
He threw up a hand. “Nay, Kitten—”
“You are laughing at me.” She glared, doing her best to appear outraged. “I cannot help that I have little experience in such matters. In fact—”
“In fact,” he cut in, grinning, “I find it quite charming.”
“You do?”
“Mmm.” He leaned in toward her. She didn’t dare move, for with the mattress shifting, she feared she’d spill wine all over the bed.
The scent of him, purely male, filled her senses, sent heat licking down to her toes as he nuzzled her cheek and pressed a kiss close to her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Tye—”
“Fear not,” he murmured against her skin, while he kissed along her cheekbone. “I know you are unwell. I will not do any more than kiss you.”
She fought disappointment.
How very shameful, surely.
He eased away from her and took the goblet. After setting the vessel on the bedside table, he took her free hand in his, linking his callused fingers through hers in a gentle grasp. “Did the wine help any with the headache?”
“A little.” Fatigue now taunted her, making her eyelids heavy. She longed to curl up beneath the blankets again. Should she return to her own chamber? ’Twould be best, but she found herself reluctant to leave him.
She forced out the words: “I should go back to my own room.”
“Why?”
“’Tis not…proper that I am here.”
Annoyance glinted in his eyes. “Ah. Now that the passion induced by the potion has waned, you realize I am not worthy of pleasuring you.”
“’Tis not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Claire tried to make sense of the feelings knotting up inside her. “I am not entirely certain myself. I do not regret what happened between us. Yet, if the servants should find me here…”
“You worry what the loose-tongued folk will say.”
“I cannot help it,” she said miserably. “As a lady, I have been taught to protect my reputation. ’Tis not possible to simply ignore what I have been taught since I was a child. ’Tis part of who I am.”
Tye’s mouth flattened. “I am lord here,” he said between clenched teeth. “I do not care what others think or say. You will stay.”
Claire held his glittering stare, refusing to yield to his fury. “You took great pains not to ruin me,” she said quietly. “Therein is proof that indeed, you do care. There is some honor in your soul, Tye.”
“I am no gallant hero. Do not delude yourself, Kitten. I will not deny you were in my bed, especially not when my mother schemed to bring it about.”
Claire swallowed hard, anguish settling in her breast. “You mean to gloat to your mother, then, that she was successful? That her scheme got me to lie with you?”
He looked down at their joined hands, his tangled, silky hair partially hiding his features from her. “I do not intend to gloat, but I will not deny we lay together, Kitten. ’Tis not entirely a matter of male pride.”
“Nay?” She arched her brows.
“Nay. ’Tis also a matter of protecting you. If my mother learns that her plan didn’t work—that I didn’t take your maidenhood—she will concoct another deception to make it happen. Or, she will…ensure that you are no longer a temptation for me.”
No longer a temptation. So much went unsaid in those few words.
Tye pressed her hand. “Do not worry. I will deal with my mother.” After a pause, he added, “I will also see you returned to your chamber before the servants begin their daily duties.”
Relief washed through her. “I would like that. Thank you.”
He nodded. Raising his head, he met her eyes, his expression grim. “I apologize for the potion. That my mother would dare to do such a thing…” He scowled. “I will be sure she understands my displeasure.”
“At least neither of us was hurt.”
His expression turned puzzled. “Are you not angry?”
“Indeed I am. I am very angry at your mother. However, we cannot change what has happened this night. We can only move onward.”
“Bravely spoken, Kitten.”
“In truth, what other choice do we have?”
He swept his thumb over her knuckles in a tender caress. “At least, despite my mother’s meddling, you are still a virgin. You do not have to worry that you conceived a babe this night, or that you are ruined for the nobleman who wishes to make you his wife. If there is ever any question about your innocence, you can go to a physician to be examined. He will confirm you are untouched.”
Tye spoke so solemnly, as though while she’d slept, he’d been mulling what had transpired between them; ’twas even more proof that he did care about her. Claire’s heart warmed, even as her head pounded in its relentless torment.
“Come, now,” he said, freeing his fingers from hers. “You should get some rest.” He urged her to lie back against the pillow and tucked the bedding up around her shoulders.
“Are you not going to sleep?” she asked, staring up at him.
He winked. “Turn onto your side.”
“Why?”
“You will see.”
Sighing, she obeyed.
He walked around to the other side of the bed and stretched out behind her, lying atop the coverlet. Curving his arm around her waist, he drew her snugly against him, and kissed the back of her neck bared by the spill of her hair. How she loved the feel of his lips on her skin.
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I like sleeping this way.”
He kissed her hair. “So do I.”
A sense of contentment filled her. Smiling against the pillow, Claire closed her eyes.
How curious, that here in Tye’s arms, she felt as though she was right where she was meant to be.
Long moments later, Tye eased himself from Claire’s embrace. Sleep had eluded him. Her scent, her warmth curled against him, and her breath upon his arm had conspired to make him acutely aware of every single place their bodies touched. He couldn’t settle down to rest when his loins throbbed.
She stirred as he drew away, and then her breathing steadied again in the rhythm of slumber. Standing beside the bed, he gazed down at her, beautiful even while she slept, the wonder of her being in his bed still warming his soul. Now that he’d lain beside her
, his bed would feel empty without her.
How he wanted her to be his, not just now, but forever. Once he’d killed his father, and King John acknowledged his right to rule Wode, would she see him as worthy suitor, even a lord she wanted to wed? Tye would, after all, be her social equal. Or, would she loathe him for having murdered de Lanceau, whom she considered a man of great honor? Once de Lanceau was dead, Tye might never see her again; she could refuse any contact with him, abandon him as his sire and others had done.
Tye’s heart clenched, for he couldn’t bear to think of his life without Claire. He’d never imagined taking a wife; until now, he hadn’t lived in one place long enough to establish a home. Moreover, he’d never considered himself worthy of being any woman’s husband, especially a titled lady’s. Yet, if he could spend the rest of his life with Claire, he would do anything—anything—to make it possible. He’d cherish her, enjoy to the fullest each day spent with her, learn all there was to know about her. He’d be as good a husband to her as Henry would have been; better, even.
There was only one thing in which he wouldn’t yield: his goal to kill his sire. The slaying, though, was exactly what Claire opposed. Regrettably, that likely meant Tye’s wish to be with Claire forever was impossible.
Restless from his thoughts, he crossed to the hearth, stretching his arms over his head and then rolling tension from his shoulders while he walked. Tye sat and reached for another letter, the last one in the stack from Henry. A good dose of jealous fury should help to sap his lingering lust.
Beloved Claire, I write to you this day with tremendous excitement.
Tye rolled his eyes and read on.
I have been sent to Branton Keep. ’Tis a great honor indeed that I have been assigned to serve his lordship Geoffrey de Lanceau.
Misgiving scratched at the back of Tye’s mind, and not just because the lad had worked for de Lanceau. Something in the words, the situation…was vitally important. Something he didn’t yet comprehend.
Branton Keep…
His conscience buzzing a warning, Tye slowly read on. The memory of a defiant young man, a fool trying to be a damned hero, rose from the shadows of Tye’s thoughts.
Nay. Surely not—
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