Page 70 of My Warrior
A small smile touched the corners of her lips. “I swear, my lord,” she complied, but then the light of mischief danced in her eyes. “However, if the king shouldcommandme to—“
“Cambria,” he warned her, “don’t attempt to make me completely mad. I’m halfway there already.”
She grinned, instantly enchanting him out of his ire. God’s bones, it was a cruel jest of fate that Cambria should cause him as much trouble as she did joy. But how could he stay angry with her when she looked him like that?
His fears soothed for the moment, Holden saw his wife now as if for the first time. Her threadbare shift did little to hide her soft, sweet curves, particularly where the muted gold sunlight pierced the sheer linen. She was lovely. Her skin glowed from the morning’s duel, and her cheeks wore the flush of health. Her eyes sparkled like a bubbling spring, and when she blushed at his forthright appraisal, her gaze softened receptively. Best of all, she was his. He felt a powerful surge of need arise in him, his body remembering well last night’s coupling.
Cambria felt the breath quicken in her breast as Holden’s warm gaze slowly raked down her body. His thoughts were as transparent as rainwater. He wanted her. Now.
She should resist him, she knew. It was mid-morn, bright daylight. Outside, the encampment was fully awake. Maids hurried to and fro, knights barked out commands, servants grumbled at their duties. Anyone could walk in upon them. Anyone could overhear the sounds of their lovemaking. It wasn’t decent.
Still, the intensity of his vibrant stare sent a shiver of delight up her spine, reminding her of the unspeakable pleasures he could bring her. Her knees quivered, her lips parted, and an aching need blossomed between her thighs.
Without a word, he came to her. Their lips met first, caressing slowly, their lingering pace denying the urgency of their desire. Holden’s fingers filtered through her hair as if touching it for the first time. Cambria’s hands fluttered over each rippling muscle through his linen shirt with complete fascination. They sampled each other as if savoring a rare dessert of spun sugar.
Holden knew from the first taste that he was ensnared. Never had he been so besotted with one woman. It was dangerous, this obsession. But his mind didn’t dwell long on such fears. When her hands slipped beneath his tunic to seek their pleasure, all rational thought left him. Her fingers burned fire as they traced the line of his collarbone and grazed his ribs. When her hands dared to creep lower, he groaned and took her by the wrists, shaking his head.
Cambria was thoroughly intoxicated by the feel of him. She wanted to touch him all over. Each plane of his body had a different, wonderful texture. His cheek was rough with stubble, his chest wide and firm, his stomach flat and softly furred.
Giving no more thought to the time of day and the possibility of discovery, they separated long enough to undress, their eyes never breaking contact. Wool garments fell away, and linen soughed to the carpet like cherry blossoms in summer. At last, they stood naked together in the pale light of morning, an arm’s length away, regarding each other with limpid eyes of desire.
Holden thought he’d never beheld such a beautifully sculpted body, supple and strong, yet still so womanly, every inch of flesh made for his embrace. Already he longed to kiss the spot where her shoulder curved into the hollow above her breast, to pillow his head against the soft cushion of her bosom.
Cambria felt a strange lethargy creep over her. Her eyelids grew heavy, her movements slow, as if she’d taken a draught of opium wine. Her breath dropped deep in her chest, and her knees grew weak as she saw that the Wolf was quite ready for her.
They approached with almost painful stealth. Holden felt as if he’d burst. Cambria was near faint with longing. The air rippled with current, and when their bodies finally touched, they became irrevocably joined by the forces of nature.
Cambria was overcome by the warmth of Holden’s skin as his massive arms enfolded her with quiet strength. She licked and bit tenderly at his chest, fascinated by the taste of him.
Holden was astonished by his own instinctive gentleness as her nipples brushed his ribs and her soft woman’s curls tickled his thigh. He kneaded the muscles of her buttocks, reveling in her sleek curves. He clasped her behind the thighs, and then effortlessly lifted her and laid her back onto his pallet.
Cambria trembled beneath him in expectation. Pure lust burned in his gaze, and she knew that emerald fire was reflected in her own eyes as she regarded him shamelessly.
Suddenly, with delicious savagery, Holden’s mouth swooped down upon hers in a kiss that claimed her. When she embraced him with all the strength of her need, he made a low growl in his throat, lifted her knees back against her chest, and pushed deeply into her.
She gasped in pleased surprise as he filled her completely. She wrapped her legs possessively around him and pressed her heels into his back, beckoning him ever closer.
Their mating was silent then, except for their labored breathing and the rustling of the bed linen. It was as if they were afraid to speak, afraid to rend the fragile fabric of their new love with careless words. They only stared at each other, watching a wondrous palette of emotions color their eyes—lust, hope, fear, surrender—as their bodies became caught up in the restless rhythm of desire.
When Cambria thought she could bear no more, that she must turn away from his searing gaze, Holden’s breath caught and his face glowed with the glory of release. Shudders racked his body with the power of a galloping steed as he cried out his triumph. The sweet agony in his eyes was so moving that her own body swelled with vibrant warmth, and she moved toward and found her own victorious relief. Waves of pleasure sluiced over her again and again until passion’s tide slowly ebbed into a lulling wash, cleansing her soul.
Long afterward, when her pulse had evened and her breath had slowed, he slid deliciously against her with his wet, warm skin, licking her shoulder, tickling her neck with his hair.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured.
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile, but she had no strength to reply. She sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into his arms, into the slumber of the replete, into the land of dreams.
In that ethereal world, the golden monarch visited her again, wielding his jeweled sword. Again they battled, but together this time, he in royal robes, she in her Gavin tabard. And she was leading the charge.
She awoke with a luxurious yawn in Holden’s embrace. The dream must be her destiny, she decided. It was the reason fate had brought her here—to this husband, to this battle, to this king. She would be the instrument of peace. There was no doubt in her mind now.
It was her destiny to make Edward see his folly.
Owen looked up at the impressive, impenetrable castle wall. He felt it again—that secure knowledge that Blackhaugh would shortly be his. The dozen ragged Scotsmen behind him had less confidence, of course. They kept their hooded cloaks well around them and their hands close to their weapons as their eyes flitted nervously about. But then they knew nothing about the determination of a desperate man.
Even now, Owen knew that the sentry he’d spotted on the parapet would be scurrying through the passages to alert Holden’s brother of their presence. Owen grinned. His leg pained him, but he paid it little heed, so excited was he about the chess move he was about to make.
They approached the oak portal, and it slowly creaked open, as if he’d willed it so. That pleased him greatly.
