His Captive Princess (13 page)

“Lew? And Claire?”

“A gesture of amity between England and the Deheubarth principality.” His words were clipped and angry.

“But your sister…she’s a child!”

“Ten years. Old enough, or so says my king,” he muttered, failing to disguise his true feelings on the subject. His brows drew together as he stared back at her, emotions warring behind his serious eyes.

Despite the ambush and his grudge against her, she would abandon every shred of pride she had to wrap her arms around him at that moment and reassure him that everything would be all right. She prayed it would. “Warren, I can’t believe Lew would agree. He told my father his allegiance was with Cymru.”

He shook his head. “I don’t trust the truce either. That’s what you’re here for. I’m completing what I was sent to do by bringing you back…and hopefully saving Claire, too.”

“I want to aid you. But what can I do against your king’s decree? How can I possibly help?”

His gaze drifted over her, reminding her of how vulnerable she must look, how exposed in her thin gown, limbs spread for him on the bed. His glittering eyes took in every inch, burning her from the inside out. He smirked. “We’ll sort that out soon,
mademoiselle
. All you need remember for now is that you’re my captive…my slave…and you’ll do as I tell you.”

Chapter Thirteen

After a stomach full of Gwen’s broth and a cup of beer tinted with mugwort, Eleri awoke from a deep nap, which may or may not have been induced by more of Warren’s draught. This time, however, she snapped to her senses.

Oh, she should not have slept! Her eyes were covered again. How many hours had passed? Daylight seeped through the fabric.

Too late, she realized she’d let her guard down and now she felt another presence in the room. How long had they been watching?

She wriggled her nose. The covering on her face was soft and loose. Still, who did Warren think he was, trussing her this way?

“Get this off of me!” she seethed.

“Oh, I intend to,” he said softly from the corner of the room. “Eventually.”

A thread of suspense tightened within, yet she was surprisingly thrilled he’d been the one waiting on her, rather than Gwen.

He moved soundlessly as he came closer, and she deduced he was no longer wearing his armor. Soon he filled the space on the bed beside her. His hands worked at the knot on her left wrist.

“’Tis about time,” she huffed.

Was he tying or untying?

“You think so? I disagree, Your Highness.” He stopped abruptly.

Any disappointment she felt evaporated when his breath brushed against her ear as he reclined beside her, and his hand rested comfortably just beneath the curve of her breast. “I rather like admiring you thusly.”

She envisioned herself turning into him, putting her mouth to his, convincing him to let her free with a deep, lasting kiss.

Aye, she had one weapon left—her body—if she could persuade him to release her for what they could do together.

“That’s unfair of you, my lord, to have such an advantage. I’m unable to admire you.” She smiled.

“
Oui
. But this way you have no idea what I’m doing or what I’m about to do to you.” His voice curled an octave lower, holding a timbre of threat as well as desire. “When one engages an opponent, one hopes to have at least one advantage.”

She swallowed. Heady excitement ran wild through her.

He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, and she caught a whiff of spice and smoke on his arm. “I don’t consider us opponents anymore, Warren.”

“But of course we are. I am vassal to King Stephen. You’ve sided with the rebellion. You used me until you had no more need of me, and now I will do the same.” His hand cupped her jaw as his mouth pressed against the side of her neck in a soft kiss.

Aye!
Her flesh tingled from the contact.

He whispered, “I could never forget the feel of your skin, like satin against mine. Don’t you remember this? Your sigh tells me you do.”

Indeed, she’d made the sound, though she’d tried to keep from it. She should not feel the warmth low in her stomach, should not want his hands and lips on her. But oh, how she did!

“Um, yes,” she purred. “I remember how you like
my
hands on you. All over you. To stroke and feel…but I cannot do any of that unless you release me.”

He made a half-strangled laugh, then eased a long leg between hers, forcing her thighs apart to make room for his body. His hand took her breast through the gauzy fabric, and she gasped. Moisture rushed inside her. If she did not do something soon, she’d beg him to enter her, and that wouldn’t do at all.

“I’ll give you a release,
ma cœur.
You know what I really want, what I’ve brought you here for. ” He nibbled her neck gently, making her quivering knees bend as if drawn by a string. She sucked in air through her teeth, fighting against her lust.
Do something!

“Are you afraid I’ll escape? That I’ll fight you?” she croaked in as seductive a voice as she could manage.

“
Non
,” he murmured against her ear, making her shiver. “You’re the one who’s afraid because you fear you want me too much to resist.” He carefully avoided her bruise as he kissed her cheek.

Stung to hear her worries repeated, she turned her face away. Her true concern was what their lovemaking would do to her heart.

She felt his jerky movements beside her, and his hands closed over her right wrist, working out the knot, to her surprise. The fabric cord fell away, and she brought her numb limb to her chest. Flexing her fingers, tiny prickles spread under her skin. After he untied her left arm, she reached for her blindfold, but Warren snatched her hand.

“Not so fast.”

She licked her lips. She longed to free her eyes, but the incongruity of his authoritative tone and caring actions had her wondering what he was about. The last time he’d kept her from seeing, he’d surprised her with the sight of that darling lamb. She prayed for the return of more of that kindness—some sign he’d forgiven her.

He pulled her hand toward him, and his lips touched the back of her wrist, then the tip of his tongue, following the line of her restraint with velvet heat.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and it took all she had to keep from sighing with desire again.

He kissed her palm, pressed his cheek against it, then returned it to her chest. “I like a fair fight, too, but when you relinquished me in bonds as a failure to my country, you denied me that. I think it’s only fair I do the same.”

He moved over her, his arousal heavy and straining against her leg. He took her nipple into his mouth through the fabric, swirling his tongue around the charged bud. Her freed hands sank into his hair as she bucked with want. “Warren, I had to do it,” she panted.
Oh, sweet pleasure!
“I had no choice.”

He snorted, his hands tightening on her sides. “You’re not sorry at all for what you’ve done. Ah, but did you miss me? I think you did. Let’s see how much.”

Before she could answer, his mouth claimed her other breast. He tugged her gown up until air splashed over her exposed lower half, making her yearn for him to cover her with his large warm body. Then he cupped her mound, and his fingers slipped over the slick folds. With a husky laugh of satisfaction, his breath rushed out across her as if what he found pleased him greatly. She tilted her hips, giving him further access.

“
Oui
, Eleri. Your beautiful body cannot lie. You’re mine.”

She grabbed his arms, meaning to push him away, but her rebellious core welcomed the inner stroke of his strong fingers. Round and round, he formed a skillful pattern, building pressure in her center. She ached for relief, clenching reflexively against him. His skin was hot to touch, his muscles like stony ridges. But his hand was gentle as he continued the sweet rhythm.

She bit her lip as her hands moved higher, finding him bare-chested. Beneath her palms lay a warrior’s wall of sinew.

She longed to see him. He was impossibly harder than she remembered. Her hands explored him, causing his nipples to pebble. He sucked air through his gritted teeth. Her touch recalled the smooth skin and coarse hair, each curve and angle, though it was like she’d never known him before. Every time was the first time with Warren.

His flat stomach caved slightly just before her fingers met the waist of his breeches, and lower, she discovered the effect her exploration had on him.

He gathered her hands in his and pulled her upright. She reached for him, pining for the return of his touch, but he slid a supporting arm around her shoulders. “Time for my captive to pay her penance.”

He kissed her mouth, hard and demanding, taking her by storm, penetrating her defenses. His tongue swept inside her, seeking, then swirled around her—a dance of triumph, both arrogant and seductive. She responded greedily, taking each stroke as she opened for all he had to give. His palm cupped her head, his fingers moving in her hair, kissing her as if she alone could quench his thirst.

After several moments, he broke away, allowing them both time to catch their breaths.

Dizzy with need, her muddled thoughts finally comprehended his words.

She shoved his shoulders with new anger, realizing his attentions weren’t out of caring, but an attempt to gain vengeance. He wanted to prove a point. To humiliate her the way she’d humiliated him. “I may be your captive, but I’ll never be your slave! I’ll not bend to your wishes.”

He sighed raggedly. After a moment’s pause, he pulled the fabric from her eyes.

She blinked, focusing in the brilliant afternoon light. Sitting before her on the bed, Warren turned away from her, but not before she saw the frustration and longing in his eyes. He sat utterly still, taut as a drawn bow—hers for the taking.

The golden skin of his broad shoulders drew her perusal. Always a guilty pleasure, she allowed herself to appreciate him while he wasn’t looking, her gaze roaming over his sculpted chest until she caught the trace of his old arrow wound. It had healed so well, she only found it when she searched for the thin crooked scar.

She then looked lower, making out the red track of a new wound still healing across his side. Her fingers touched the scar.

“A close call. One of your Gwynedd warriors at Kidwelly.” His upper lip curled with contempt.

She frowned, suddenly overcome with regret. He’d risked so much.

He rolled off the bed abruptly. His hands slid under his waistline, slipping the garment off. The sight of his glorious, battle-hewn form made her mouth water, and when she tore her eyes off his physique, she found him watching her with rekindled fire. Her lustful gaze offered him all the invitation he needed.

Glorious!

She wriggled backward across the wide mattress, shaky with need as well as apprehension, her anger fading away. He was so agitated, so full of righteous venom, and yet tremendously aroused. No matter his mood or what he said, she did not fear him. Not for a moment. However, when he returned, he moved over her body, looking every bit the intimidating invader she’d been raised to elude. Her back hit the post of the bed frame. His strong arms braced the wall at her sides, blocking her escape. But at the moment she wouldn’t leave for any reason. She wanted this more than life—to have him in her arms again!

Passion’s heat radiated from his flesh, making her want to join with him, though it reminded her of his burning temper.

“You’ve always done as you pleased, Princess. I can’t change you, nor do I want to. You’re strong, a fighter. And I’ve never wanted another woman as I want you.” He took hold of her gown and pulled it over her head. Then his gaze feasted on her nakedness with savage hunger.

She swallowed a whimper as his dark head descended. His tongue swept out across her peaked nipple, and she ran her hands through his lush hair. Aching, she wrapped her legs around him—so ready to join with him again. His fingers returned to dip between her legs, spreading her, probing the moisture, making her writhe against his touch.
Oh, how she’d missed him!

He lifted his head, staring into her eyes as if searching for something. Voice ragged, he said, “I told you I’m a possessive man, Eleri. I want to keep you, mount you, fill you, but even as I hold you like this…I am still your captive. Have mercy and tell me you’ll have me.”

Excitement spread through her. “Aye, Warren.”

His hands slid under her thighs as he dragged her beneath him, closing the space between their bodies. Then his mouth met hers again. He entered her, and her groan of satisfaction vibrated harmoniously with his in her chest.

His thick cock went deeper as her body accepted him, quaking with the final appeasement of her cravings. Her fingers dug into his muscles as she pulled him into her. Their joining stirred her pulse to a frenzied tempo in her ears as they thrust. Evenly matched, they rocked together, taking and giving, higher and higher. His hand skimmed down her neck, across her chest, kneading her breasts as he kissed her mouth. Their bodies slowed and moved as one, fluid and graceful. He wrapped her in his embrace, cradling her against him as he buried himself inside her.

He arched his back, becoming solid steel atop her as he gazed down at her with eyes full of unabashed need. Consumed with emotion for this man, she felt her insides quicken, yielding her entire spirit to their union until she shattered with a cry. His lips curved with a saucy gleam of victory in his gaze, and he came, groaning his release.

When his seed was spent, he touched his forehead against hers, carefully cupping her face. Her eyes burned with tears from the rising feelings in her heart. Feelings that were new to her. She’d been married to a prince, a respected and powerful leader, but she knew nothing of love before Warren. And that was what this was, no matter what his feelings for her.

He kissed her, the sweetest kiss she’d ever known, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Let me lie with you for a while,
ma cœur.
I don’t want to let go of you just yet.”

She nodded, fearing her voice would break if she spoke.

Neither of them slept, though they were still enough. She was content listening to the sound of his breathing while he held her close against his side. Her hand rested over his heart, as his fingertips swirled a pattern across her stomach.

Their future together seemed cursed with impossibility—from the portents she’d heard, to his precarious position with his king—but the fact that he didn’t seem to hate her eased her troubles.

Gong, gong.
A bell rang somewhere outside her chamber window far below the lord’s keep.

Warren froze, listening.

There were men’s voices, too, but she couldn’t distinguish their words.

He exhaled, scowling. “
Bon sang.
” Muttering, he eased up, sliding his arm from underneath her with care.

“What is it?”

“Just a moment.” He sauntered to the window with casual grace, and she admired his bare backside through languid eyes. Standing behind the window casing, he braced an arm over his head, staring out. “My brother has returned.”

She glanced around their lovemaking nest. At least her prisoner’s bonds were forgotten for the moment. Determined to make the most of whatever freedom he offered, she dragged her sheet up around her and joined him to share the view.