Page 56 of Hers To Command
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WITH A GROANthat was part desire and part surrender, Henry tugged Mathilde back into his arms and kissed her fervently.
Thrilled, delighted, she relaxed into him, giving herself over to the pleasure and excitement, liberating herself from worry and care, guilt and remorse. She might have only tonight to give herself to Henry, to live a lifetime with the man she loved, and God save her, how she would!
Eagerly her hands moved over his back, feeling the hard muscles shifting. He held her close and he began his own exploration while she slowly insinuated her hands beneath his shirt.
Her palms brushed over the uneven terrain of his warm skin, the myriad small scars that spoke of past hurts. She lifted his shirt over his head and let it fall on the floor in a puddle of white linen while she surveyed Henry’s naked chest. There were scars here, too, some red, some white, and holding his upper arms, she bent to press a kiss on each one. He moaned softly, the sound enflaming her more as she brushed her lips over his slightly salty flesh.
She drew closer to the dark circle of one of his nipples. The dark hairs surrounding it tickled her nose. She reached up to scratch, and he laughed, bending down to kiss her forehead, then her brows, and then her eyelids as she closed them. Her cheek, her jaw and finally, lightly, her lips, as his hands parted her bedrobe and glided around her waist, pulling her back against him.
She could feel his aroused shaft through her shift and his breeches. She tensed, and the panic threatened…
“If you want to stop, my love,” Henry whispered, holding her loosely, “we’ll stop.”
Determined not to surrender to the fear, she gave a little shake of her head. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me and make love with me and help me forget.”
“I will try,” Henry softly promised. “As I love you, I will try.”
He loved her.He loved her, and his touch was light, gentle, exciting, thrilling. His lips brushed across hers as soft as velvet.
Too soft, for she felt his restraint. Although she loved him for his selflessness, she sought to unleash the passion he was keeping in check. She must, or he might forever treat her as fragile, afraid to express his desire freely. Constrained. Imprisoned. She would not have him a slave to fear, as she had been.
So she tugged him close and slid her tongue between his parted lips. With new urgency, she gave her own passion free rein, and surrendered fully to the desire surging through her body.
Sensing the change in her, the need, the desperate longing, Henry finally accepted that she truly wanted him to love her tonight. That even if she could not quite subdue her fear, she trusted him enough to let him make love with her.
Free of the dread that she was asking more for his sake than her own, he stopped worrying and gave himself up to enjoy what he’d been imagining since the day he’d met her.
But even so, and although his fervor increased with every moment, he was aware that he must not be too rough, too forceful.
So he didn’t sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bed. He didn’t do anything except kiss her for a time. Only when he was sure she felt safe and fully at ease did he slide the bedrobe from her shoulders and gathered her to him, feeling her warm flesh through her thin white shift. And her taut nipples brushing against his naked chest.
He broke the kiss and took her hand to lead her to the bed. He turned to blow out the candles, but she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I want to see you. Your face. Your body.”
He smiled, relieved and delighted by the boldness of her request. “I want to see yours, if you’re willing.”
Her hands trembled as they went to the tie of her shift; nevertheless, she undid the knot and loosened the drawstring. She pushed her shift down past her perfect breasts and wiggled her narrow hips until it fell to the floor. Then she blushed, shy as any maiden, in spite of her unabashed action.
How could any man not love her, respect her, admire her and want nothing but the best for her? How could Roald have—
Roald could wait till morning, and it would be his last morning. Tonight was for Mathilde.
Henry cupped her smooth shoulders and ran his hands down her slender arms, gazing at her body. “You are perfect, Mathilde. Perfect.”
Her blush extended nearly to her nipples. “I know I’m not beautiful.”
He raised his eyes and said with all sincerity, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and you always will be. Yours is the beauty that can never fade or diminish, because it shines from within.” Then he smiled as only Henry could, making her heartbeat race and her blood throb. “And I must confess, it pleases me to think so many men are blind to it.”
Her hands stole around his waist. “I think you were blind to it when first we met.”
“Unfair, my lady! You surprised me when first we met. You had me at a disadvantage.”
“You surprised me by grabbing me and pulling me down onto your bed.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You should be glad I didn’t grab my sword.”
She kissed his chin. “You might have done yourself an injury, naked as you were.”
