Page 58 of Enchanted Warrior

She gave a slight smile, regaining her footing. “Perhaps you’ll go warm up the sheets for me?”

“Oh, yes.” Gawain laughed, the sound low and deep. “I’ll play lady’s maid, as well, and help you with your garments.”

He scooped her up so quickly she had no time to waver. Instinctively, she clutched at his shoulders, bringing herself yet closer into his embrace. She searched again for a snappy comeback, but none came. They were past banter and into far less predictable waters. “Gawain?”

He kissed her forehead—a soft, light benediction. “There is nothing to worry about here. This is my fortress.”

“How do you know we’re safe?” She’d set wards around the castle’s perimeter, but they were no more than alarms. They would warn, not defend.

Gawain didn’t reply at once. Instead, he carried her to the bed and set her down on the soft, luxurious mound of furs. Then he drew his sword with a long rasp of steel and set the naked blade on the floor beside them. “This is my world, and I know my business here.”

Tamsin’s mouth went dry. “I’m sure you do.”

His smile said that he’d intended every innuendo. “Are you still convinced you’ll be cold this far from the fire?”

Her heart pounded as he leaned down, the waves of his dark hair glinting auburn in the firelight. He picked up one of her feet. He drew the boot off slowly and let it fall to the floor with a soft thump. His hand closed over her stockinged foot, gently kneading her toes. Even through the fabric, she could feel the heat of his hands. She hadn’t realized how tired her feet were until that moment, and she fell back with a blissful groan. The other boot came off the next moment.

“That feels wonderful.” She surrendered her other foot. “You have a future as a love slave. Or maybe a cabana boy.”

The bed shifted with his weight as he knelt beside her. “A true knight knows many weapons beyond a simple blade.”

His fingers dove beneath her skirts and found the top of her right stocking. He’d given her undergarments, as well as the dress, and now she wondered why he had bothered, since they were coming off so soon. He undid the bow of the garter and began sliding it down, fingers trailing against her skin. As he uncovered her ankle, he bent to kiss its hollow, his hair brushing like silk along her calf. Tamsin flinched, heat flaring from her core.

Gawain looked up, a glint in his eye. “Do you like that?”

“I never realized ankles could feel so good.”

“Every inch of a woman’s skin deserves respect.” He eased down the other stocking. “Dare I say worship?”

“You dare,” Tamsin murmured. “There isn’t much you wouldn’t dare.”

“It seems you’re coming to know me well.”

So it went on, one article of clothing after another. Eventually, she wore no more than her shift while Gawain still had his shirt and leggings. “That’s not fair,” she complained.

He closed his mouth over hers, stopping her complaint as he cupped her breasts through the fine linen. His thumbs circled her nipples, bringing them to aching points. When he finally broke the kiss, he left behind the taste of wine and spice. Tamsin sucked in a ragged breath of air, her concentration splintering. “Not fair.”

He nipped her ear, making her gasp. “If I touched you skin to skin, my control would not last.”

“And mine?”

His teeth brushed her neck. “You will surrender yours to me, over and over.”

“Is your control so weak you need to steal?”

Gawain pushed her back on the furs. “Then have it your way, Mistress Greene.”

He shed his leggings, his shirt barely veiling the jutting length of his erection. Tamsin’s skin heated in a delicious flush of anticipation—and then it flared to electric life when the shirt came off in one impatient tug. The firelight loved him, showing the strength in his limbs with unabashed celebration, as if he was art come to life. She rose up on her elbows, meeting him halfway as he rejoined her. Their lips touched, his forward movement slowing so that their collapse into the soft sea of fur was gradual and luxuriant. They rolled so that Tamsin was on top. She stroked the silky length of him, bending down to taste the salt of his smooth skin. Every cell of her wanted him inside her, but she needed to anchor this moment of sensuality in her memory. That meant taking her time to experience everything.

“If a woman deserves careful admiration,” she whispered, “so does a man.”

His eyes drooped with lazy pleasure, reminding her of some huge cat. His hands crept under the hem of the chemise and glided up her thighs, kneading her flesh. She leaned forward to grant him better access, and his rough, strong palms curved over her buttocks. Bracing her hands on either side of Gawain’s head, Tamsin bent to taste his lips. He took the opportunity to slide the chemise upward until she caught it and slipped it over her head. With her arms raised, she was fully displayed for his pleasure.

She caught the flare of his eyes, the parting of his lips. His hands immediately caressed her breasts, a possessive, greedy gesture that told her far more than any words. Tamsin pressed her hands over his, holding him close, feeling her heartbeat and his pulse in the same moment. Feeling their magic rise and twine together for an instant, as intimate a communion as a kiss.

They were so different, sprung from two utterly different times and cultures. And yet—something more important ran beneath all those divisions. Something that made their hearts beat as one.

Tamsin bent over her knight, her hair pooling around them like a golden curtain as she pressed her lips to his. The taste of wine and spice had faded, and all that was left was heat, desire and man. It was more than enough.

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