Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) Page 13

  Her steps across the hall toward him were more confident and purposeful than

  normal. Was the sway to her womanly hips slightly exaggerated?

  His blood heated as he noted the neckline of her gown was cut lower than usual. It revealed the creamy skin of her décolletage offering pure temptation. It drew his attention to the full, ripe swell of her breasts against the fabric and he thickened between his legs as he recalled the sweetness of her flesh in his mouth.

  “Lord Romsey,” she greeted him with a pretty smile and curtsey.

  “Countess,” he returned formally, with a twitch of his lips. She was always polite, always friendly and positive, but there was something different in her greeting. Something less apologetic and more seductive.

  Blue eyes glanced up at him under the veil of long lashes as she straightened from the curtsey.

  By the rood! The look she gave him was an attempt at a flirtation.

  Had his wife decided to try to seduce him? The thought both charmed him and made him wary. Lisette was no virgin but his instincts told him he could believe her story that she was no harlot either. Every instinct told him she approached him with one thing on her mind.

  Ultimate pleasure.

  The slight fluttering of her eyelids almost made him laugh aloud at her attempt to use the feminine wile to attract his attention. For one who’d impressed him the last few days as being without guile, the ploy was hilariously false in the extreme. He had to work hard to keep his expression neutral.

  He believed he knew exactly what she was up to. The question was, how far would she go to achieve her goal?

  “Your day has been long, my lord. May I offer to pour the ale for you to quench your thirst?”

  The overriding thirst he had would not be quenched with ale. The lust she stirred within him was not inflamed by her attempting to play the seductress, but merely by being within touching distance.

  “Ale would be welcome. I have just come in from training in search of refreshment.”

  Again she shot him a brief look from beneath her lashes before she filled a tankard.

  Little vixen. She was flirting with him. This was unexpected and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. The brush of her fingers against his hand as she passed the tankard to him also appeared to be deliberate.

  He prevented a laugh escaping by taking a long draft of the ale. She didn’t know that he had already decided to bed her that eve. ’Twould be entertaining to see just what other tactics she might employ to achieve her aim.

  “You and your women have done well restoring cleanliness and order to this hall,” he told her in formal tones, pretending to be more interested in the surrounds than he was in her.

  “I promised you I would be a good chatelaine, my lord. A good wife.”

  He looked at her then as he noted the slight emphasis on the word wife, and saw the blush staining her cheeks. Her decision to try to capture his interest was costing her. That pleased him. ’Twas preferable that she was embarrassed by her attempts to seduce him, than that she was truly brazen. In truth, she was most charming.

  “You have done something different with your hair,” he observed casually.

  “A slightly different style, my lord. I hope it will gather fewer knots.’ She raised a hand to her hair. “My hair takes an age to brush out each night.”

  God’s teeth! The mere thought of her brushing out the silky soft length of her long, blonde hair made him throb. The image of her sprawled naked on his bed wearing nothing but that long hair, had him shifting uncomfortably on his feet as his swollen rod jerked between his thighs.

  His words were a little husky as he suggested, “Mayhap it would not take so long this eve if I assisted you?”

  Blue eyes widened with undisguised pleasure and she reached out to him in a gesture that was all nervous excitement. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  He took her outstretched hands in his and pulled her a little closer. Turning each over to press a kiss against her palms, he smiled. “I think I can find some way to make you happier.”

  Her pupils dilated a fraction and she took an audible breath.

  For better or worse, ’twas decided. Tonight he would go to her and claim his bride.

  Bending his head forward, he murmured against her ear, “A truce between us, Lisette?”

  Her pulse beat rapidly in her wrist. It reminded him of the frantic fluttering of a bird’s wings. But this was a bird he would never seek to cage. Tonight he would teach her body how it could fly to the heavens and beyond.

  “A truce and a new beginning, my lord.” Her words were a sincere vow and he began to hope they could find some accord in their marriage.

  Her lips clung to his as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was full of sweet promise. The taste of ripe berries filled his mouth. The feel of the fullness of her lips opening and moving willingly under his own dominated his senses. He clamoured for more. Unthinking of where they were he pulled her tight against him. Her head tilted back to give him greater access to her mouth. Arms raised up around his neck. Fingers buried themselves in his hair, massaging his scalp as she let out a series of soft little sighs. All but the need to possess her body in full was erased from his mind. He was caught up in the most heightened sensory pleasure he’d known.

  ‘Twas only the voices of his knights as they entered the great hall which made him break off the kiss and steer her toward the stairs which led to her bower.

  At the base of the stairs he stopped and angled his broad body to shield her from sight. Her eyes were glazed, her expression dreamy.

  “Retire to your bower, my lady, for you appear well and truly ravished and far more desirable than I wish any of my men to witness.”

  Rowan not only wanted her to be out of the sight of his men, he needed time away from her. He needed to give his raging erection time to subside before he joined his men. About to turn away and leave the hall via another exit, he was stilled by Lisette’s hand against his chest.

  The blueness of her eyes was as deep as the ocean, and just as wet. It startled him that they swam in tears, but his concern was only momentary. She gave him a tremulous smile with lips that were swollen from their kisses and he realised hers were tears of happiness.

  “Thank you, my lord. Thank you for giving us a chance. I promise I will never disappoint you again.”

  With that she spun on her heel and ascended the stairs to the privacy of her bower.

  The image of his step-father formed in his mind. A great man. A man who had forgiven and moved forward with his life. The former baron of Baddesley had forgiven immediately. His spirit had never been shackled by bitterness and revenge.

  “I cannot change the past, Rowan,” the baron had told him once. “I only have the power to change the future through forgiveness. My father taught me that forgiveness is a virtue of the brave and a sign of strength. As your father—for you are truly my son—I want you to understand that forgiveness is vital for the health and wellbeing of the soul. Just as there can be no forgiveness without love, there can be no love without forgiveness. There is nothing more important to me in all this world than the love I have for my wife and my sons. I know no stronger wish than to see each of you happy, and I hope you will teach your own sons the importance and the power of forgiveness.”

  Wise words from a truly wise man.

  Remembering the unconditional love he’d received from both his parents made him yearn for them. They would still love him even though they may not have approved of all his actions.

  Years ago, shortly after the battle at Bramham Moor, Rowan’s rage and bitterness had overtaken all common sense. He’d forgotten the wisdom of his step-father’s words and hadn’t been the man his father wanted him to be. Rowan had been weakened by his thirst for revenge and had not possessed the strength or resolve to practise forgiveness. In what he had convinced himself was the name of justice, he had performed a heinous deed which would stain his soul forever.

  The
re was still one other against whom he sought revenge. The need to make Malin pay for the death of their mother and father still consumed Rowan. In all else he tried to be a man the baron would be proud of, but he would not rest until Malin was punished.

  In Lisette’s case, he knew he must strive to forgive her completely—just as the baron had forgiven his mother.

  In forgiving Lisette they would have some chance of happiness. She was committed to making their marriage work—and not just for the protection of her unborn babe. The physical attraction between them was stronger than he had experienced and he was certain ’twas reciprocated. He didn’t expect he would ever experience the love Baddesley had known for his mother, nor did he want it. The vow he’d made never again to leave himself vulnerable to the pain of a loved one’s betrayal still provided impenetrable armour around his heart.

  The brother he had tried so hard to love had betrayed that bond in the cruellest way. The woman he’d loved and thought to marry, Lady Eleanor, had turned against him when she’d realised he was a bastard son, with no prospects of inheriting title or property. When he had been banished from Baddesley keep to be hunted down like an animal, she’d stood in the crowd and joined in the jeering. The sounds of her scorn had been louder than any other and had haunted his sleep for years. Her contempt had cut and scarred him more profoundly than the whiplashes at his back as he’d been driven from the only home he’d ever known. The wounds she’d dealt him when she’d married Malin were like blades to his heart. The scars of her betrayal were still carried even though they were less visible than the marks on his back.

  Rowan was resolved to claim his husbandly rights this eve and consummate his marriage. Lady Lisette, would take her place in his bed. Mayhap, when his mission to destroy Malin had succeeded and he had eased his thirst for vengeance, their married life could be pleasant enough. But, he would not allow her a place in his heart.

  Chapter 8

  As the door to her chamber opened, Lisette’s hand froze in the process of brushing out her hair. The looking glass in front of her reflected Rowan’s image and she rejoiced as he entered the room.

  He had come to her!

  “Should you not have a maid to assist you?” A slight furrow appeared between his eyebrows. He closed and barred the door purposefully before he crossed the room.

  “I dismissed her,” Lisette informed him breathily. “You promised you would help me this eve and I know you to be a man who keeps his promises.”

  “Aye, I am a man of my word.”

  He would keep another promise this night, she was sure. He would show her the ultimate pleasure.

  One strong, masculine hand closed over hers and she thrilled at the physical contact. The size and power of his hand emphasised the slenderness and femininity of hers. The hairbrush was removed from her grasp with his other hand.

  Not a word was spoken for several seconds.

  In the silence that simmered between them, her heartbeat reverberated through her chest and up through her skull. The strong pulse at the base of her neck struck its own beat. Her body ached to close the distance between them completely so that she could be hard up against his frame.

  Their gazes locked in the mirror. Rowan’s deep, green eyes held hers captive.

  Releasing her hand, he gathered the heavy curtain of her hair in one hand and used his other to stroke the brush down through the strands. The brush slid through without a hitch. It created its own rhythmical, rasping music as bristles slid through natural silk.

  “Your hair is fine, like spun-gold.”

  The reverence in his tone caused her heart to surge with happiness.

  Each stroke of the hairbrush increased the tension and anticipation, energising the air between them. Need built its own frenetic tattoo at the juncture of her thighs. Breaths came in quick, shallow and irregular inhalations. Small tremors ran down the length of her spine.

  Finally, the exquisite stimulation of her scalp was over. Her warrior husband placed the brush on the ornate oak chest in front of her. His hands were on her shoulders as he lowered his face to her hair.

  Held in a magical thrall, she was motionless as he inhaled deeply.

  “You smell like an apple orchard.” Each word was satisfied. Appreciative.

  Gulping hard, she swallowed down on her nerves.

  He stroked her hair away from the nape of her neck and bent to kiss her vulnerable, exposed flesh. His lips burned a trail along the delicate skin before he nibbled at her ear in an unequivocal statement of intent. Shivers of longing raced from her neck down her arms to the tips of her fingers. A strange heaviness weighed her breasts while the mound of her womanhood throbbed. The light, teasing adoration of his lips had her trembling with longing.

  “Are you cold, my lady?”

  Looking straight ahead she met his gaze in the mirror and sought the courage to speak honestly. ’Twas imperative he know she would speak to him forevermore with only absolute truth. “Nay, my lord. ’Tis your touch that has me trembling.”

  “I will not hurt you, Lisette.” The rich timbre of his voice both soothed and thrilled.

  “I tremble not with fear, but with...a strange excitement.”

  There was a slight tightening of his hands on her shoulders. A kiss against her neck, just below her jaw line, triggered another series of quivers through her frame.

  “You welcome your husband to your bed.” There was just a hint of inflection in his words that conveyed his words were partly a question. The earnest sincerity as he looked at her once more in the mirror told her that he would welcome her affirmation that she lusted for him. He treated her with great honour and respect, for they both knew he had absolute right to claim his conjugal rights even against her will.

  “I wish to be your wife in all ways, my lord.”

  He pressed a kiss to her hair. “’Tis good that it is so.”

  When he extended his hand to her, she turned wordlessly toward him.

  Placing her hand in his, Lisette was never more aware of his strength—the tempered steel of his body and the muscled breadth of shoulders, almost twice the width of her own. Excitement surged through her at the knowledge that this handsome knight was her husband and would soon become her lover.

  She noted the tautness of his skin over high cheek bones and the slight flush to his complexion. The naked hunger blazing from him told her of his need to make her his. ’Twas so intense she nearly lost her nerve. Anticipation of his love-making tightened her womb. Her blood heated to boiling point so that she was half-afraid she would erupt in a conflagration of desire. Yet part of her was overwhelmingly shy.

  His fingers still intertwined with hers, he raised one hand and pushed a stray tendril of hair away from her forehead. The gesture was unhurried and achingly tender.

  Parting her lips she sought to banish her shyness as she rose boldly on her tiptoes to touch her mouth to his. A soft sigh escaped from her. The tentative kiss was experimental. Rowan stood utterly still as she explored the texture of his lips. They were as warm as she remembered. Firm. Sensual.

  With a half-groan, he encircled her with his arms and pulled her possessively against the raw, male power of his body. Their kiss was broken as her head fell forward against the brawny breadth and heat of his chest. He was divine and this was exactly where she wanted to be. She breathed in the faint scent of the sandalwood and citrus of his soap mixed with the essence of pure male. ’Twas an additional stimulus to her senses and filled her with hedonistic delight. She revelled in his physical strength and placed a hand over the spot where his heart beat hard and fast. Awed that she could affect him in this way, she tilted her head up so she could see his expression. He claimed her lips immediately.

  There was no gentle coaxing in this kiss. His mouth devoured hers with unconcealed hunger. The slow building of the need between them this night was over. His lips demanded her response fiercely, swept her up in a passionate inferno so that she answered his mastery with fevered eagerness as he s
tamped his possession upon her.

  His tongue tasted of sin as it glanced into her mouth and stroked slowly, tantalisingly, over hers. The erotic action caused her to press her body closer. She trembled in shocked delight as she felt the hard rigidity of his manhood pressing against her abdomen. Her husband was very aroused and she was thrilled that she could affect him this way.

  A virgin she was not, yet she’d never given herself to a man before—only taken from one. This would be different, but she wasn’t sure how. Previously she’d had to control the coupling. She wasn’t sure what was expected of her in submitting to his dominant role, but knew she would yield willingly to his mastery and follow wherever he led her.

  More than anything, she wanted to please Rowan this night and lay a foundation for their future as husband and wife.

  He broke off their kiss and both of them breathed in raggedly. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his brow.

  “Raise your arms, Lisette,” he commanded.

  She did as he bade and he whipped her chemise over her head. The cooler air whispered over her body but her blush at her exposed nakedness brought its own heat. The sharp, audible intake of his breath was the only sound in the room as she stood naked before him. ’Twas the first time a man had seen her completely naked and she trembled with nerves and uncertainty. Part of her wanted to cover herself or cringe away, but she banished that instinct when she dared to look at him and remembered the words he’d uttered to her on their wedding night when she had tried to cover her breasts. There was open admiration shining from his eyes. It gave her strength and confidence, enabling her to summon up courage and to stand tall and proud before him.

  “You are truly beautiful,” he uttered in wonderment. “You are a goddess come to life in my chamber.”

  Shaking her head, moisture gathered in her eyes as she whispered. “You, my lord, have come to my chamber, and you are like a powerful, ancient conqueror.”