Teresa Medeiros (23 page)

“If I weren’t such an untutored barbarian and I wanted to drive you wild with desire, I might just touch you here.” The flick of his fingertip against that sensitive nubbin of flesh made her gasp with delight. “Or here.” His clever fingers dipped lower still, gently probing as if he were parting the petals of some delicate flower to seek the teardrops of nectar within.

Tabitha’s whimper deepened to a moan. Through a haze of bliss, she felt Colin’s hands stroking her thighs, easing them apart. She tensed, bracing herself for a foreign invasion, only to realize with a shock that it wasn’t his sex pressed against her, but—oh, wonder of wonders—his mouth. She arched off the mattress, utterly beguiled by the hot, moist sweetness of his lips, the swirling magic of his tongue.

Colin might not have succumbed to the wiles of those decadent women, but he must have memorized their whispered enticements. He proved himself a master of
devilish invention, holding her in bondage to the darkness and her need until molten pleasure was dripping from the very core of her. When she was poised on the brink of madness, he filled that aching hollow with his thickest finger. She cried out his name as waves of rapture racked her entire body.

Then he was on top of her as he’d been in that meadow the first day they met, kissing her sweat-dampened throat and whispering in her ear. “That, my lady, is what I would do were I a learned enough man to drive you wild with desire.”

No longer content to be passive, Tabitha fisted her hands in his hair and dragged his lips to hers. It was his turn to moan with delight as their tongues entwined in sweet communion. Her trepidation had been replaced by a primitive compulsion to drive
him
wild with desire, to make him cry out
her
name as if it were a magical incantation. Her sex was throbbing for his attention and she knew from the feel of him, hot and heavy against her belly, that he was more than willing and able to provide it.

She opened her thighs in invitation, but there was no need to guide him into her. He found the heart of her with unerring instinct, grunting into her mouth as he thrust deep and hard, filling her to the brim.

Tabitha had braced herself for a twinge of discomfort; she had not expected this searing pain as her body struggled valiantly to welcome him. She bit her lip, but not before a sharp cry could escape.

Colin froze. He was so still she could feel her sheath pulsing around him with each of her shuddering heartbeats. She opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her with a perplexing mix of awe and shock. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d betrayed him for a second time.

Longing only to erase that inexplicable expression, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gave her hips an amateur wiggle.

Colin threw back his head with a guttural groan, then shook it as if to ward off a spell. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, something both fierce and reverent in his touch. As his body began to move within her in a tender, deliberate cadence, her pain slowly melted to a different kind of ache—an ache that craved the sweet friction of the man she loved riding deep inside of her, an ache that demanded to be satisfied. Satisfy her he did, stroking her mouth with his tongue and her body with his sex until she was meeting his every thrust with one of her own.

Only then did he liberate himself from six years of brutal self-denial. Only then did he roar her name and allow his ecstasy to come spilling out of him in a white-hot torrent. Tabitha cried out her own delight as he buried himself as deep within her as he could go, shuddering to miraculous completion.

They lay entwined in each other’s arms, their breath mingled, their sated bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating in perfect accord, as if they were still one flesh.

Until Colin lifted his head to glower at her. “You didn’t …?”

Tabitha nodded smugly. “Oh, yes, I did. Before.”

“But not when I …”

“Of course not. Women aren’t designed for that. Mutual orgasms are nothing but a myth like Bigfoot and unicorns and knights”—her voice trailed to a whisper as she blinked up at him—“in shining armor.”

A slow, dangerous grin curved his lips. “Is that so, my lady?”

Tabitha squeaked in surprise as Colin gently guided her over on her stomach. “It gives you great pleasure to prove me wrong, doesn’t it?” she asked breathlessly.

He brushed his lips across her nape, making her shiver with anticipation. “Not nearly as much pleasure as it will give you.”

CHAPTER
19

S
unshine draped Tabitha’s naked body like a warm, fuzzy blanket. She stretched without opening her eyes, exulting in the delicious languor melting through her muscles. For the first time, she truly understood why Scarlett O’Hara had awakened with such a feline smile on her lips the morning after Rhett had carried her up those curving stairs. Summoning barely enough energy to lift her hand, she gave the mattress beside her a seeking pat. It was empty and cold.

Her eyes flew open.

A shirtless Colin sat on the edge of the hearth, dragging on his second boot. His brooding glower had returned, darker than ever before.

“Good morning,” she murmured, hoping he would find the husky edge of sleep in her voice irresistibly sexy.

“Good day, my lady.”

His clipped words snapped her fully awake. She fumbled for the threadbare quilt, drawing it up to her chin. He probably found her shyness ridiculous, given the nature and shameless variety of the intimacies they’d shared during the night. But this surly stranger seemed like an evil twin of the man who had given her pleasure
so intense it had made her sob aloud, then dried her tears with his kisses.

Oh, God, she thought, what if he was the kind of man who lost interest in a woman after he’d slept with her? Not that they’d done much sleeping.

Colin donned his tunic, his motions as curt as his expression. Leaning over a tarnished basin, he splashed his face and hair with water he must have fetched from a nearby stream while she was sleeping. He was without a doubt the cleanest barbarian she’d ever met.

With his unruly mop of hair slicked back from his unshaven face, he looked younger and more vulnerable, giving Tabitha the courage to confront him.

She sat up and forced herself to relinquish her death grip on the quilt, letting it catch on the swell of her breasts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a wife waiting at home.”

His hands froze in the motion of securing his silver belt around his lean hips. He slowly lifted his head, his stricken stare betraying the last emotion she’d expected to see on his face.

Guilt.

She was suddenly afraid.

Then his expression was masked, and she wondered if she’d imagined it. “I should be getting back to the castle. I’ve tarried here long enough.”

Tabitha sniffed. “That’s odd. You didn’t seem to be in any hurry last night.”

He strode toward the door without answering. For one heartbreaking moment, she thought he was actually going to leave her there—naked and alone, the provocative musk of their lovemaking still clinging to her skin.

But then he wheeled around and paced the length of the cottage. His hand shot through his hair, ruffling the
damp tendrils until they were once again as wild as his eyes.

Coming to an abrupt halt, he pointed at the mattress. “I might have taken even less haste with you had you warned me about
that.”

Tabitha studied the brownish stains on the faded fabric, then coolly met Colin’s accusing gaze. She refused to cringe in Victorian horror. “You didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would faint at the sight of blood.”

“But ’tis
your
blood, lass.” His voice faded to an anguished whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d never before lain with a man?”

She shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Sing a couple of choruses of ‘The Simple Joys of Maidenhood’? Swoon into your arms and whimper, ‘Be gentle with me, kind sirrah’?” Overcome by shyness, she said softly, “You were already being gentle with me.” She reached for his hand, but he drew out of her reach, making her frown. “That’s odd. Your conscience didn’t seem to be bothering you the second time we made love. Or the third. Or the—”

“Enough!” He cast her a sheepish look from beneath his lashes. “ ’Twas too late then. The damage had been done.”

Tabitha sighed, growing more exasperated by the second. “So if I’d have told you I was a virgin, you wouldn’t have spent the night making mad, passionate love to me?”

“Yes!” he snapped, then just as vehemently, “No!” His shoulders slumped. “I do not know.” His helpless gaze searched her face. “How was I to guess you were a maiden? You made no protest when I took you to my bed. You spoke frankly about carnal matters. You traveled with a troupe of mummers. And you’re a witch,”
he added, throwing out his arms as if that explained everything.

For several seconds after he spoke, Tabitha could hear nothing but the low-pitched roaring in her ears.

When she finally replied, her voice was deceptively soft. “Ah, and witches are notoriously easy, aren’t they?”

He stabbed a finger at her. “Oh, no, my lady, you are most certainly not easy. You are one of the most difficult women I have ever encountered.” He rubbed the shadow of beard on his jaw, realizing he wasn’t making much headway in his attempt to reason with her. “ ’Tis a well-known fact that witches delight in enslaving mortal men with their carnal wiles.” His gaze was almost pitying. “You cannot help it, lass. ’Tis your nature.”

Tossing a corner of the quilt over her shoulder so it enveloped her like a queen’s mantle, Tabitha rose to her full height. She remained standing on the mattress purely for the pleasure of sneering down her nose at him. “You’re absolutely right, Colin. I’m just another one of Satan’s sluts. Now that you’ve introduced me to the delights of fornication, I’m looking forward to spending most of my dateless evenings dancing naked around a bonfire, copulating with demons who have cloven hooves and enormous forked—”

“Tabitha!”

“—tails,” she finished, stepping off the mattress. She began to back him toward the hearth, her voice rising with each word. “Or maybe I’ll just skip the demons and tumble into bed with the next holier-than-thou, self-righteous prig of a knight who tries to burn me at the stake!”

Colin tilted his head to the side and blinked at her. “Have I offended you?”

Her shriek was one of pure frustration. Flattening her
palm on his chest, she gave him a hard shove. He sat down abruptly on the hearth behind him.

Tabitha whirled around, no longer able to bear the sight of his smug face. The sweeping maneuver might have been more impressive if she hadn’t stumbled over the hem of the quilt and had to clutch the window shutter to keep from falling flat on her face.

She tried, but it was impossible to hide the bitterness in her voice. “If I had known you were going to be so disappointed in my lack of experience, I’d have taken dozens of lovers. I’d have purchased a charter membership in a harem and lost my virginity to an entire tribe of sweaty, grunting infidels.” Unshed tears clogged her throat as she leaned her cheek against the shutter and whispered, “I’m sorry you were the first.”

“I’m not.” The words were spoken so softly they might have been conjured out of thin air. Colin’s hands came to rest gently on her shoulders, squeezing them through the quilt. “Oh, I wanted to be. A virgin witch was the last thing I needed in my life at the moment. But all I could feel in that moment you surrendered your innocence to me was joy and a ridiculous pride, as if someone had given me a gift I would never deserve.”

Tabitha turned in his arms, torn between disbelief and wonder. Colin cupped her cheek in his hand, a wry half smile curving his lips, his golden eyes unguarded. “My lady,” he murmured, and for the first time, Tabitha sensed the words came from his heart.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Without its anchor, the quilt slid down to pool at their feet, but Tabitha was too lost in Colin’s tender kiss to notice.

Nor did she notice the man leaning against the doorjamb with arms crossed until his honeyed Gallic voice
poured over them. “My, my, this certainly gives new meaning to being burned at the stake.”

Colin sprang in front of her and snatched up the quilt, tossing it over her head in his haste to shield her. Disoriented by shock, it took Tabitha several muffled curses to battle her way out. Clutching the blanket around her like an oversized bath towel, she peeped over Colin’s shoulder to find Arjon smirking at her. He softened his leer with a mischievous wink.

“You might have knocked,” Colin said, his scowl returning.

“You might have closed the door,” Arjon retorted. “ ’Tis fortunate I left Chauncey outside to mind the horses. His mother begged me to accept him as my squire, but I don’t think this was quite the education the dear woman had in mind.”

Colin snorted. “If the lad’s to travel more than a league with you as his master, he’ll lose his blush soon enough.”

“Ah, but I can see the
bewitching
Lady Tabitha hasn’t lost hers.” Arjon cast the mattress a knowing glance. “Her blush, that is.”