Knight of Pleasure (26 page)

“From what I hear, Stephen Carleton, you give such ‘promises’ to women all the time.”

“Those women were different.”

“How?” she demanded, giving him a hard look.

Why did he need to explain this to her? “Those women took me to their beds for pleasure only. It was understood between us.
I misled none of them. Most were not even free to marry.”

“Then I am no different,” she said. “I took you for pleasure, and I am not free to marry.”

Her words were like a knife to his heart. Had she really used him like that? Had he been so mistaken in believing what happened
between them meant as much to her as it did to him?

At least he knew how to play it now. This was a game he was good at. He would take his own advice. In a fight for your life,
you must use the advantage you have, not the one you wished you had.

He pulled her roughly against him and slowly, deliberately, ran his thumb over her full bottom lip.

“De Roche would disappoint you.”

She looked up at him with wide green eyes and blinked once, twice. Already, her breathing changed.

“I want you naked.” He held her gaze and let her see how much he meant it. He did want her that way, he just wanted her heart
more.

Her lips parted, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I… I…” She tried to speak, but her words drifted off as he ran his finger
along the side of her neck and down her throat.

When he reached the top of her gown, her breath hitched. He could almost hear her thoughts, they were so plain on her face.
She was telling herself she should back away, but she wanted his touch too much to listen.

He would make sure of it.

He brushed his finger ever so slowly along the delicate skin at the edge of her bodice, across the rise and fall of her breasts.
Like warm beeswax, she melted against him.

“You want to be kissed?” He tried to hang on to his cool calculation, but it was hard with her looking at him like that.

When she rose onto her tiptoes to meet him, his heart leapt in his chest. What kind of fool was he? Who was seducing whom?
Who would be vanquished? He feared it would be him again.

Stephen never suffered from a lack of courage. Truth be told, he threw himself into danger with nary a thought. But his knees
trembled as he leaned down to take this gamble.

As soon as his lips touched hers, there was fire. As there was every time they kissed. He let it envelop him, lap all around
him, as he sank into her. He wanted to touch all the places he loved: her face, the enticing curve of her back, the long line
of her thigh. Her hair, he had to have his hands in it. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he began pulling the pins that
held her headdress.

“Let me,” she gasped, breaking the kiss.

While her hands were busy with pins and coils, he moved down her body. He pressed his lips to the soft skin above her bodice,
then dropped to his knees to kiss her breasts through the cloth of her gown. When her hair fell over his hands, he sighed
with pleasure and rested his head against her.

But he could not afford to let her catch her breath and reconsider. He rose to his feet and spun her around to unfasten her
gown.

“We should not…,” she began, but her voice trailed off as he reached around and cupped her breasts. Soft and full, they fit
perfectly in his hands. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, making little sighs and moans.

He kissed her neck, then whispered into her ear, “I want to feel your skin against mine again.”

This time, she made no pretense of objecting. As soon as he unfastened her gown, she pushed it off her shoulders and let it
fall in a pool at her feet. As she turned around to face him, he pulled his tunic and shirt over his head. He drew in a sharp
breath when she put her arms around his waist and he felt her breasts against his chest.

She looked up at him, eyes dark and serious. “I know it is wrong, but I cannot help myself.”

“There is no wrong in it, if we are to marry.”

“I would rather sin than suffer every day—” Her voice broke in a sob.

He could not begin to understand her. What could she mean? “We would have joy between us, can you not see that?”

She shook her head violently from side to side. With the passion broken, he could feel her slipping away from him. Before
she could change her mind, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

This was no time for fighting fair.

He began by kissing her senseless.

When she slipped a hand under the top of his leggings, he grabbed her wrist. Holding both her hands over her head, he nipped
at her ear and ran his tongue along her collarbone. By the time he reached her breasts, she was squirming and arching her
back.

Slowly, he circled her nipples with his tongue. Round and round, then flicking with his tongue until she slammed her fist
against the bed.

Good. He ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, inch by inch, as he continued teasing her nipple with his tongue. When
he reached her center, she was hot and wet and he wanted her so badly he nearly forgot his purpose.

With renewed determination to control himself, he drew her breast into his mouth and pleasured her with his hand. Every sigh
and moan made him want her more.

When he stopped to run his hand along the inside of her thigh again, she opened her eyes.

“Good things come to her who waits,” he said, grinning down at her. He set to teasing her, moving his fingers in circles ever
closer to her center until he brushed it with each turn with a feather touch.

The saints preserve him, she had beautiful breasts! He kissed the one closest to him. She made a little high-pitched sound
when he took the nipple between his teeth. As he increased the pressure between her legs, her breathing grew ragged.

“Stephen, don’t stop,” she said, her voice urgent as she tried to pull him down to her.

When she cried out, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her neck. He felt overpowered by emotions so strong
he did not know what to do with them.

He squeezed his eyes shut as she ran her fingers along the side of his face. He was tight as a bowstring. When she turned
in to him to kiss him, the tips of her breasts touched his chest. This was the way to ruin. He let himself enjoy a painfully
languid kiss before he broke away.

“On your stomach,” he told her and sat up.

Giving him an uncertain look, she turned. He gathered her mass of dark hair and swept it to the side. As he kissed her neck,
her lips curved up. He leaned back and let his eyes travel down the graceful line of her spine. To let her know how much he
wanted her, he rubbed his cock against her buttocks.

In truth, that was just for him.

It did get her attention. She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes wide and lips parted. She looked so beautiful he had to
fight the urge to part her legs and enter her right then.

Whoa! He shook his head.

He gave her buttocks little bites that made her laugh, even while they aroused her. Then he turned her over to kiss her breasts
again. How did she smell so good?

He played with her nipples as he worked his way down. He paused to stick his tongue in her belly button. As he moved lower,
he felt her tense. He rose up to kiss her for a long while, his hand between her legs.

“You will like this, I promise,” he said next to her ear before he moved back down to show her.

She did. Her release was so exciting he thought he would have his own against the bedclothes. Sweet Jesus, she was going to
kill him.

Sometime later, he once again had her on the edge, just where he wanted her. She was clinging to him like warm honey. He hovered
over her, teasing her—and torturing himself. It took all his strength of mind not to plunge into her.

“Now.” She wrapped her legs more tightly around him, her voice was urgent. “I want you inside me. Now.”

“Say you will marry me first.”

She made an indecipherable sound.

“You must say it, Isobel,” he insisted. “I will not again risk giving you a child unless I have your word.”

“I cannot!” she half moaned, half cried. “Do not make me, Stephen. Please. Please. Do not make me.”

Even in the midst of passion, she would not give in to him.

A man can take only so much. When she lifted her hips to him, he let his shaft slide over her. He closed his eyes and moved
against her, again and again, until he spurted his seed over her belly.

He rolled off her and lay on his back, arms crossed over his face. He’d never felt worse in his life. The humiliation alone
might kill him. But it was nothing to this aching hole in his chest where his heart had been. He wanted to crawl off into
a corner like a wounded animal. But he could not move with this heavy sadness lying over him like a great weight.

Though they did not touch, he felt the heat of her body next to him and heard each shallow breath she took. There was one
demand he had to make. Though she won all else, he was determined to have his way in this one thing. He gathered his strength
and what little pride he had left, and said it.

“I will not allow another man to raise my child.”

He let the silence linger to give her time to absorb this before he told her how it would be.

“ ’Tis unlikely,” she said in a bare whisper. “I have never conceived. I—I may not be able to.”

He was resolved in this, and he would have her know it. Fixing his eyes on the ceiling, he let the coldness he felt show in
his voice.

“You will find a way to delay your marriage to de Roche until you know for certain,” he said. “If you are with child, I will
give you two choices. You can marry me, or you can have the child in secret and give it to me to raise.”

He got up from the bed. As he pulled on his clothes, his hurt and disappointment turned into something cold and hard within
his chest. The silence was thick between them as he sat and methodically put on one boot and then the other.

He was not going to slink out of Isobel’s bedchamber half dressed. He was not that kind of man anymore. He had tried to do
the right thing. He still wanted to.

Gritting his teeth, he strapped on his belt and sword. Only then did he look at her. She was sitting with the bedclothes clutched
to her chest, her hollow eyes fixed on him.

“Understand me. I will not allow you to pass my child off as de Roche’s,” he told her. “I would kill him with my bare hands
before I let that unworthy piece of shit have a child of mine.”

She nodded.

It was enough. He turned and left her.

S
tephen waved aside the guards’ cautions and rode out the gate. Brigands and renegades be damned.

Lightning liked galloping in the dark. Stephen gave the horse his head, though it risked both their necks. The cold helped
clear Stephen’s mind. When Lightning slowed to a walk, he looked up at the star-filled sky and tried to draw hope from it.

After he left Isobel, he was in such a tangle he awakened Catherine for advice. She showed no surprise at his intention to
marry Isobel. Good God, was he so obvious?

Catherine demanded he tell her all. He was not about to confess he’d just tried to seduce Isobel into agreeing to the marriage.
Tried
and failed.
As it turned out, all Catherine wished to know was what he
said
to Isobel.

“You told her you ‘must’ marry?” Catherine said in her most exasperated tone. “Not that you
wanted
to marry her? That you love her? That you cannot live without her? For God’s sake, Stephen, what were you thinking!”

Obviously, he had not broached the subject in the best possible way. He should have mentioned how much he cared for her. But
how could Isobel not know it?

Those ugly remarks she made about other women were insulting. He’d not gone to bed with another woman since he met her, for
God’s sake. And it was not as if he had no offers.

The simple truth was he did not want any woman but Isobel. He’d told her he was done with other women… or had he? Surely his
determination to marry her said as much?

Stephen and Lightning rode through most of the night. He did not turn around until he was sure he could speak with Isobel
without getting angry again—no matter what foolishness she might say. A storm rolled in with the dawn, soaking him to the
skin before he reached the castle gate.

He rode straight for the keep, hoping to find the king at breakfast in the hall. This time, he meant to talk with the king
first. Then, when he spoke with Isobel, he could assure her the king was willing to release her from her promise.

The king would not like it, but he would approve the marriage. Being a pious man, what else could he do when Stephen told
him what they’d done?

Last night, Linnet had found Isobel naked and weeping on the floor. The girl wrapped her in blankets and frantically pressed
her with questions. Distraught as she was, Isobel made the mistake of telling her Stephen wanted to marry her.

Linnet was still furious with her this morning for her “utter, utter foolishness” in refusing him.