Page 122 of Laird of Flint
Whatever Hew thought of her, his body at least was delighted. He squeezed her buttocks as he thrust inside her over and over, and she rode him like a galloping steed, ascending that hill of desire once again.
When she reached the top, he stiffened at the same time. As waves of release crashed down upon her, he pulled out of her, pulsing and spilling his seed over his own belly.
Hew felt ashamed. And villainous. And spineless.
It had always been up to him to make sure he never harmed Carenza.
After all, she wasn’t experienced. And he was.
Now he’d violated her trust. Compromised her virtue. Taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness.
There was no excuse for it. No apology that would suffice for what he’d stolen. No amends that would restore her virginity.
Still, he was a man of honor. He had to make the attempt.
Unable to look her in the eye, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, my lady. I ne’er meant to hurt you. I know better. I shouldn’t have begun this. I should have had more patience. ’Tis all my fault. Will you e’er forgive me?”
“What?”
The odd tone of her voice drew his eye.
Carenza wasn’t hurt. Or sad. Or distressed.
She was confused. “What is all your fault?”
He spread his hands to indicate their situation. “This.”
She scoffed. “This isyourfault?”
“Of course.” These things were always the man’s fault. Husbands never came after their wives when they were cuckolded. They came after the other man.
“But…I invited ye to this chamber, aye?”
“Aye.”
“And I asked ye to lie naked with me?”
“You did.”
“And who is loomin’ o’er ye right now like a bloody conquerin’ hero?”
He smirked. He could see her point. But he didn’t have to agree with it.
“’Tis a matter of honor,” he explained. “I should have prevented you. A man can’t expect a woman to control her sexual impulses. ’Tis up to the man to…” He stopped, because she was giving him the most curious smile. “What?”
“It seems to me ye’re the one lyin’ in a pool o’,” she said, glancing down at the mess he’d made, “sexual impulses.”
That was a bit unfair. Indeed, he’d managed to curtail his sexual impulses at the last moment and pulled out before he could risk planting a bairn in her. Not all men would be so careful.
“Nonetheless,” he said, “I apologize for neglecting my responsibilities. I can’t undo what’s been done. But I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
“It had better happen again,” she said with a frown, “because there’s somethin’ ye should know.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, which only made them look plumper and more tempting. “This was my idea.Allmy idea. Iwantedthis to happen. Imeantfor it to happen.” She lifted her chin proudly. “I’m weary o’ waitin’ for criminals and kings and monks to steer my fate.” She shrugged. “So did I seize the reins and ride away on a wild horse? Aye. Maybe. But ’twas my choice. And I’d do it again. Iwilldo it again. Many, many…many times.”
Hew couldn’t help but be moved. Carenza looked like a goddess, sitting astride him as if she rode into battle. Brave and beautiful and determined. Full of righteousness and rebellion. She might not be a warrior maid. But in this moment, he believed she had the strength of ten men.
Still, he wasn’t convinced. No matter how tempting the thought of making love to her “many, many, many times” was, in their world it would brand her a wanton. That he wouldn’t abide. He scowled and opened his mouth to counter her.
But she wasn’t finished with her diatribe. And she wouldn’t let him get a word in.
