Perhaps she would remember him kindly.
He knew he would never forget her.
Elizabeth was nigh overwhelmed with pleasure. Something in her manner had enflamed Rafael for he kissed her with more vigor than ever he had before. She thought he might consume her whole, and she did not care if he did. His mouth locked upon hers, his tongue slipped between her teeth and Elizabeth opened her mouth to him in complete capitulation.
He would show her the way.
He groaned at her capitulation, a wondrous sound, and swept her into his arms, depositing her gently on the pair of cloaks. He did not break his kiss but unlaced her kirtle, jerking the lace free on either side. Elizabeth regretted that she had worn anything other than her chemise, for she wanted to feel his hands upon her.
She moaned when the weight of his hand closed over her breast, and cried out in pleasure when he pinched her nipple as he had once before.
“Does it hurt?” he murmured into her ear and Elizabeth shook her head.
“It is wondrous, a sting and a tingle together. Do not halt!”
He chuckled and rolled the peak of her nipple between his finger and thumb, watching her with bright eyes as she arched her back and gasped with pleasure. He claimed her lips again, that enticing fire in his embrace, his kiss rough and possessive and demanding. That he could lose some control in his desire for her was exciting beyond compare.
When he lifted his head, Elizabeth tugged her loosened kirtle over her head, and cast it aside, then untied the lace of her chemise. He watched her avidly, smiling that roguish smile, then his hand slid beneath the hem of her chemise. His palm was warm upon her thigh, his expression dangerous as he eased his hand ever higher. Elizabeth felt herself flush. She felt the heat gather in her belly and the moisture between her thighs. She yearned for something she could not name.
Then Rafael’s fingers slid between her thighs, proving that he knew what she wanted. He touched her in that most intimate place, caressing her with a surety that made Elizabeth gasp and writhe. She felt a tempest rising beneath her skin but he was relentless, driving her ever higher. He kissed her with fervor again, then traced a line of kisses down her throat, his whiskers grazing her skin in a way she found most exciting. She locked her fingers into the thickness of his hair, then cried out when he closed his mouth over her taut nipple.
He suckled and kissed it, running his tongue and his teeth across it so that it ached from his attentions. His fingers still moved against her, teasing her to ride this storm that he conjured. Elizabeth was lost in his embrace, unable to believe the power of sensation, uncertain she would survive this sweet torment.
She felt wanton that she was nearly nude and he was yet fully dressed, and could imagine him seducing her like this in some corner of a hall or in a chamber that they shared. His fingers eased inside her and she moaned from the depths of her being at the pleasure he conjured. He did not relent but caressed her as if determined to bring her very blood to a boil. He paused and she opened her eyes, unable to catch her breath as her heart raced. She smiled back at him, knowing she was flushed and pleased, thinking this was the sum of it.
For it was fine indeed.
“It is wondrous,” she managed to whisper.
But Rafael cast her a wicked smile. “It has yet begun,” he murmured.
He lifted the hem of her chemise, baring her belly to his view, and traced another path of burning kisses ever lower. Elizabeth gasped when his mouth closed over her, then she sighed at the touch of his mischievous tongue. He gripped her buttocks and lifted her to his embrace, tormenting her with pleasure so that she knew not what to do. That storm built with savage fury and she cried out for something she could not name. She writhed like a harlot, greedy for his touch and yearning for all that he could give.
The crescendo came suddenly as if she had been cast from the cliff toward the sea far below. Elizabeth heard herself shout with pleasure as a tumult shot through her veins.
She opened her eyes long moments later, heated and panting, only to find Rafael watching her with mingled satisfaction and amusement.
“I thank you,” she said, hearing that her voice was uneven. “Why do wedded couples ever leave the solar?”
Rafael laughed. “Not all are as passionate as you.”
There was no criticism in his tone, though Elizabeth knew this could not be the sum of lovemaking. He was still fully dressed, after all. She reached for him, claiming his hand. “And that cannot be all of it,” she whispered in awe. “For you have not had your pleasure.”
“My pleasure is in witnessing yours,” Rafael said with force, then reached for her again. She understood then that he did not mean to possess her, and her heart swelled at his gallantry.
Indeed, his choice only convinced her of the merit of her own.
“But I would see you fully,” she whispered, letting her hand fall to his belt. “I would see how a man is wrought.”
He hesitated, yet another sign of his scheme, and Elizabeth knew she had not long to overwhelm his objections. She cast off her chemise, baring herself fully to his view, and took advantage of his surprise. She unfastened the buckle of his belt and laid it aside with care, then pushed him to his back. Rafael braced himself on his elbows, as if he would stop her, but Elizabeth quickly removed his boots.
“Elizabeth,” he growled in warning and though she liked the sound well, she saw that he began to sit up.
On impulse, she put her hand on his erection, feeling its size through his chausses and tightened her fingers around his strength. Rafael caught his breath and froze, his eyes glittering. “You used your mouth to grant pleasure,” she whispered. “What if I use mine?”
His eyes flashed like lightning and Elizabeth understood that her suggestion would please him well. “No lady does as much,” he began to protest, but Elizabeth’s fingers were busy on his laces. She tugged his chausses over his hips and touched him tentatively, smiling when she was rewarded by his moan of pleasure.
“Temptress,” he whispered as he fell back against the cloak, and Elizabeth knew he was hers to claim.
Rafael never could have imagined Elizabeth possessed such audacity.
All the same, he could not resist her touch, much less her delight in what she did. She learned far too quickly for him to evade her touch, and he certainly could not contain his response. He pulled her away in the last moment and spilled his seed on his own chemise. When he was gasping in the aftermath, her cursed fingers were busy, pulling the chemise over his head.
“I would see all of you,” she insisted and he did not have it in him to fight her.
When he was nude and she was nude and she cast herself across his chest, triumph sparkling in her eyes, he could not resist her. He speared his fingers into her hair, liking that she had left it loose for the night, and spread the ebony tresses over her shoulders.
She arched a brow, tracing circles on his chest with her fingertips. “I suppose that there is more pleasure than can be shared.”
He could not suppress his smile. “I suppose you know that I do not mean to show that to you.”
She bit her lip, looking so impish that he considered himself warned. “I suppose you have guessed that I do not mean to leave you a choice.”
“I cannot wed...”
“I do not care,” Elizabeth retorted and claimed his lips in a kiss as potent and commanding as the ones he had given her. Truly, she learned too quickly, for her fingers were in his hair, her hands holding him captive to her kiss, her mouth demanding and enticing. Rafael found his hands locking into her hair, holding her fast as their kiss turned incendiary. He was barely aware that she cast a leg over him, but then he felt her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Her knees locked around his waist and her softness touched his erection, sending a jolt through him. She lowered her hips and rubbed herself against him, making him moan.
He rolled her to her back then, for he could do naught else. He took command of their kiss, his hands roving ov
er her silken skin, for that was his only chance to save her chastity. He eased a hand between them, though he did not want to break the contact, and would have caressed her to grant her pleasure. He would have denied his own need, but Elizabeth gripped his buttocks and drew him closer, so that the sweet wet heat of her was right against him. Rafael bared his teeth and closed his eyes, putting his brow on her shoulder as he fought for control.
Elizabeth rolled her hips in invitation.
And he could not decline. He eased inside her, shaking at the effort of maintaining control for a little longer. She gasped and gripped his hair, nibbling at his ear as he buried himself in her sweetness. He feared it was too much for him, but Elizabeth surprised him anew.
“All of you,” she demanded with ferocity, locking her legs around his waist. “Show me all of you.”
And Rafael could only comply. He drew back, bracing his weight on his elbows so he could watch her as he claimed her. There was no fear in her expression and if she felt pain, she hid it well. Indeed, she smiled at him, as beguiling a temptress as there had ever been, and when he began to move, her eyes lit with pleasure. She gripped his shoulders, gripping his skin with her nails, which only inflamed him more.
“Do we find pleasure together?” she asked, her cheeks flushing more with every moment.
“If Fortune smiles upon us,” he said with a smile, then caressed her with a fingertip.
“That is not Fortune,” she whispered with a laugh, even as she writhed beneath his touch. “Unless you have changed your name, Rafael Rodriguez.”
“Not me,” he said, loving how responsive she was to his touch. He drove her higher and higher, her movements fueling his own passion, until they were moving together with such a smooth rhythm of mutual pleasure that they could have been meeting abed for decades. They smiled at each other, so attuned each to the other that Rafael had never known the like.
He pushed her higher and higher, waiting for her to find her pleasure first. When Elizabeth cried out, her body tightening convulsively around him and her fingers digging into his shoulders, Rafael could not hold back. He buried his face in her neck, inhaled deeply of her potent perfume, and welcomed his own release with a roar. Elizabeth laughed lightly and kissed his neck, drawing him more securely into her embrace as he dozed.
This was how it felt to be a champion.
And the sensation was wondrous indeed.
It did not, however, last.
Elizabeth was dozing when the eastern sky first began to lighten. It was yet an hour until the dawn, maybe two, but Rafael was wide awake. He was taut with the import of what he had done.
He had taken what was not his to take.
And he must make the matter come aright.
Rafael would ride out this very morning, a new objective to his days. He could not offer for Elizabeth’s hand as a man-at-arms in service to Malcolm but perhaps, like Mío Cid, he could win a holding, then return to court her in truth. Perhaps he could have a future like her past, and one with such a glorious woman at his side.
For the gift Elizabeth gave to him was hope, and it was pungent to a man who had never tasted of it before.
Rafael knew the odds were long against him. He knew it likely that he would fail. He doubted he could manage to succeed in such an endeavor before Finvarra tried to seize Elizabeth. But there was merit in the striving. He dared not give her false hope. He dared not encourage her to wait for him, for that would be too cruel should he fail and not return. He had to trust in her conviction that Finvarra would not prompt her choice and believe in his own inevitable success.
Maybe even in destiny.
For Rafael Rodriguez, for the first time in all his days, would ride to war with a purpose and a goal. And he would leave a legacy of merit, should the fates be truly on his side.
Rafael held Elizabeth against his side, unwilling to disturb her well-earned slumber even as his resolve built. Her hair was free of its braid, unfurled across the silver fur of the cloak. He stroked his fingers through the silken length of it, wanting to touch her, and had an idea. He would have a talisman of this moment, a mark of the pledge he made to himself to ensure the lady was honored.
But she could not know what he did, for she would understand the gesture’s meaning.
Rafael separated one hair from the rest and plucked it free. Elizabeth stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering. Rafael claimed a second hair and she grimaced a little, then yawned. The third hair he claimed with haste, winding them together and tucking them into his purse just before her eyes opened.
Elizabeth smiled at him, stretching languidly, nude and beautiful. She was sated, he could see, and he loved the sight of her. He yearned to remain with her, but the sooner he departed, the sooner he might return. Hope lit in her eyes when she ran a hand over his bare chest, only to be replaced by disappointment when he handed her chemise to her.
“Morning comes,” he whispered, unable to deny himself one sweet kiss. “It is time to ensure that you are found in your own chamber at first light.”
She did not suggest that they be found together.
Indeed, Elizabeth looked vulnerable and uncertain as never she had in his experience. Rafael could not resist the opportunity to reassure her. He pushed his fingers into her hair and cupped her nape, looked into her eyes, then kissed her with sweet ardor. Her lips clung to his, her hands landing on his shoulders, and he drank deeply of her sweetness.
He broke the kiss suddenly, for he would not be tempted again, then rolled away from her. Rafael stood, then seized his own chemise and drew it over his head. He was well aware of the watchful silence behind him.
“That seems a farewell embrace,” Elizabeth said, her words husky.
Rafael kept his back to her and bowed his head. “I warned you already that men of honor are most tedious.”
She caught her breath and he glanced back to see that hope had lit in her eyes once again. He held her gaze, because he could do naught else, and though he did not wish to give her false hope, Rafael hoped that this time, Elizabeth could truly read his thoughts. They stared at each other for a long potent moment, then moved as one to dress and depart.
Elizabeth had no regrets, save that something had changed in Rafael’s manner.
He seemed distant after that last kiss, and even that kiss had been tinged with a sadness that Elizabeth associated with partings. She saw a new resolve in him, but feared to ask its import.
She guessed he still meant to leave.
She did not wish to hear him say as much.
She hoped he would ask Alexander for her hand in the morning, but now that her innocence was lost, all of Rafael’s protests echoed in her thoughts, feeding her doubts.
She did not want him to feel compelled to wed her, for she wanted a life with her to be a choice made freely. She did not want him to be bound to her against his will. She ached to know his intent, but she knew he did not wish to confide it in her.
And for once, Elizabeth was afraid to provoke Rafael for more.
She curled against him as he rode to Kinfairlie, hoping this would not be the last she saw of him. His arm was tightly wrapped around her, his manner grim, and they reached the crumbled border wall all too soon for her taste. The sky was smeared pink and she could hear a woman in Kinfairlie’s village shouting at some child to see the goats milked and quickly. She feared now to be caught, for she would not see Rafael chastised by Alexander, not for what Elizabeth herself had done.
She had compelled him to claim her. She had made her choice and used her own power over Rafael to make him do as he did not wish.
She wondered only now at the price of her choice.
He halted Rayo by the twisted tree and swung out of the saddle, gripping her waist to lift her to the ground. For a poignant moment she was in the circle of his arms and could see the regret in his eyes.
“I do not regret it,” she whispered with fervor. “No matter the price.”
“Nor do I,” Rafael said, his fi
nger sliding up her cheek. “Nor can I. I hope only that the price is not too high.”
“I will pay it,” she said, feeling defiant again.
Rafael smiled. “And I would protect what is precious,” he murmured, his gaze trailing over her as if he would memorize the sight of her. She knew she looked to have been savored, that her hair was unbound and her garb askew, but his slow smile was filled with admiration. “Be well, mi piqueño ángel, for if there is no goodness left to defend, then the carnage of men has no point.” He held her gaze, then turned away.
That was the moment Elizabeth knew for certain that he meant to leave her.
She choked back a sob, determined not to beg or entreat him, then walked steadily to Kinfairlie’s portal. She heard hoof beats behind her, but did not look back.
Elizabeth had gambled her all, and she feared she had lost.
On the threshold, though, she wondered. What had Rafael meant about a man of honor?
Did he call himself one?
Elizabeth spun, but he was far up the coast, his destrier racing north in haste to be gone.
Or in haste to embark on a quest.
Elizabeth smiled then, her heart aflame with new hope, and willed Rafael to succeed.
Rafael returned to the cavern, after he had taken Elizabeth back to Kinfairlie, burning with his new purpose. He cast his saddlebags at the floor of the cavern and dug in the dirt with his bare hands. In moments, the djinn trap was revealed, its occupant as displeased at it had been earlier.
“You have a choice in this moment,” Rafael said briskly. “For I can release you before I depart, or leave you in captivity.”
The small djinn was defiant. “A price you will ask, that much is true, but I know not that I would give aught to you.”
Rafael squatted down beside the trap and spoke so that his determination would be heard clearly. “The price of your freedom is simple: you must grant three wishes to whoever sets you free.”
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 126
