Page 54 of My Warrior
“Then it will be my pleasure to initiate you in the rites of passion,” he said.
“But I don’t wish—“
“Shh,” he soothed, “I’m your lord. You’re my vassal. I didn’t ask what you wished. I would bed a woman tonight, and I’ve chosen you.”
Cambria swallowed hard. He certainly was matter-of-fact about the whole ordeal, and he wasn’t wasting much time. She felt as if she were poised at the edge of a waterfall, about to be pushed over. A torrent of emotions coursed through her—fear, anticipation, indignation, resentment—so rapidly she hardly had time to think.
Holden set his cup down on the chest. Then he leaned aside and blew out the candle, leaving the pavilion in deep shadow disturbed by only the vague glow of the moon.
Cambria resisted the urge to slip out the pavilion flap at once into the anonymity of the night. Then she scolded herself for her cowardice. She was on the battlefield now. Running away with no explanation would only postpone the confrontation.
She stood tall. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the meager light when she heard him circling close about her. She couldn’t see him, but she could sense his eyes burning into her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to be devoured.
He came up behind her, his breath in her ear so sudden she gasped in surprise and dropped her cup. The red wine spilled onto the carpet and was absorbed like a smothered scream. He pulled the hood slowly from her head, twining the fingers of one hand in her hair. The other arm he draped possessively across her collarbone and shoulders. His voice was deceptively gentle.
“Do you know what is to come?”
She remained silent, in spite of the alarm ringing in her head. Without warning, he subtly tightened his hold and clenched his fist in her hair. He wasn’t hurting her, merely keeping her prisoner in his grasp. Nonetheless she struggled against the confinement, her fingers pulling at the taut muscles of his forearm.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. “You’ve been kissed before, haven’t you?”
She gave no answer. Her heart thrummed in her throat.
“And I’m going to touch you—your lips, your neck, your breasts—in ways no one has ever touched you before.”
With that promise, he forced her to endure that touch as he slowly ran the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck. A hot streak of lightning coursed through her body, as if a blade had done the deed. She shuddered, and a wounded moan issued from her lips unbidden.
He placed delicate kisses against her throat, and she fought against the dizzying sensation. He breathed against her temple and massaged the back of her head.
“You’re so warm…and soft…” He punctuated each of her attributes with a brush of his tongue against the various hollows of her ear. “Supple…and sweet…and beautiful.”
She writhed in sensual torment against him. Then he ceased, and she shivered involuntarily.
“Don’t…do that,” she gasped, fighting for a coherent thought.
She should be outraged. After all, her husband was being unfaithful to her with another. Yet that other was none other than herself. It was all too confusing, particularly when he was driving her half-mad with that nuzzling beneath her ear.
“Give me your lips,” he murmured against her cheek. “I would have a kiss.”
Her heart plunged fearfully—he might recognize her kiss. But before she could duck away, he turned her head to his and ran his broad tongue boldly across her lips. When she opened her mouth in surprise, he closed his lips over hers.
Never had she been kissed like this. The timid bussing she’d given him was nothing compared to this. He sucked gently on each lip, nipped at them as if tasting her. Then he deepened the kiss, drank her very soul from her and poured it back into her again. Even the passion of their wedding kiss paled against the purely erotic mating of their mouths now as his tongue tickled across, then moved languorously between her lips, parting them easily.
She felt as if she were under an enchantment. Her limbs remained rigid in their posture of resistance, but her mouth acted with a will of its own. His kiss demanded an answer, and she gave it as her lips sought his with an age-old hunger.
“Easy, my little nymph,” he coaxed, though there was strain in his voice. “We have all night. There will be more pleasure for you if we take our time.”
With great dexterity, no doubt from practice, he parted her cloak and quickly loosened the laced front of her kirtle. The cool night air filtering over her bared skin startled her for a moment. Then, before she could guess his intent, he slid a hand beneath her gown and traced the outline of the top of her breast with schooled fingers. She gulped.
Holden groaned. Her skin felt like silk beneath the pads of his fingers. What a fool he’d been to agree to that damned marriage document. He brushed a thumb across the fabric still covering her taut nipple, and she drew in a sharp breath. He tried, but couldn’t ignore the yearnings of his own flesh.
“Stop. You mustn’t…” Cambria began in a curiously thick voice, attempting to sound authoritative and failing miserably.
“Shh.” He stroked her again, absorbing her shiver with his own body. He could feel her resolve beginning to melt. Soon she’d be like molten iron on the forge, compliant to his will. That was if his own resistance held out, he thought wryly as a wave of desire flooded his loins.
When he moved his hand to seek her other breast, she moaned softly against his cheek. He placed tiny kisses along the line of her jaw, continuing to caress and tease her with his fingers. Then, sensing her imminent surrender, he gently dragged her back against his body, gritting his teeth as her buttocks pressed against the throbbing column of his manhood. Taking a step backwards, he pulled her down with him onto his chair, settling her across his knees.
“Now,” he told her in a voice he fought to keep steady as he twisted the wedding ring on her finger aright, “you will tell me, wife, why you’re here.”
