Knight of Desire (15 page)

She touched her headdress to be sure it was in place as she returned to the hall for supper. At least William did not chastise
her in front of his men, as Rayburn would have. She smiled to herself, recalling the warmth in William’s eyes when he kissed
her hand. Perhaps he was not too angry with her.

At supper, she listened with half an ear to the men’s talk of their fruitless search for rebels. Edmund’s harsh words plagued
her. What if he was right? Was it possible William was unhappy with what took place between them in the bedchamber?

What could be wrong? She had every reason to hope he would get her with child soon. William was able to perform each time.
And he wanted to do it. Over and over.

He did seem to dawdle. Perhaps that was a sign of trouble. It made it harder and harder for her to keep her mind on something
else. She sighed, at a loss.

The platters were not yet cleared from the table when William stood and announced he was tired and would retire. The men exchanged
glances, and one or two smothered a laugh. They stopped when she looked at them sharply, trying to discern the source of their
amusement.

When her gaze met Edmund’s, he tapped his finger next to his eye as if to remind her he was watching her. Hateful, hateful
man. Then he dropped his gaze to her chest and lifted his eyebrow, just to annoy her. She put her hand over her chest and
glared at him.

“Catherine?” William was holding his hand out to her.

She took it, glad to leave. She’d rather be lectured about having her hair uncovered than remain in the same room with Edmund.

She had trouble keeping up with William’s pace. He was not as tired as he claimed. As soon as they reached their rooms, he
shouted at the maid to leave and pulled her into his bedchamber.

Belatedly, she realized he did not bring her upstairs to lecture her about headdresses.

He barred the door, which made her feel anxious and trapped. Though he made no move to touch her, her heart was racing.

“You looked so beautiful up on the wall, with your hair flying in the wind,” he said in a wistful voice. “It was just like
when—”

He stopped himself and did not finish the thought aloud. After a moment, he said, “ ’Twas nice to have a wife to greet me
when I came home. It is new to me.”

His kind words and soft voice calmed her a bit. He stepped closer but still did not touch her. She had the disconcerting feeling
that he was waiting for her, that he wanted her to do something.

“I want to be a good wife to you,” she stammered. “I beg your pardon. I should not have been outside with my hair down like
a young girl.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. His breath was warm on her ear as he leaned down to whisper, “Take it down for me now.”

She swallowed. “Unless you want me to call my maid, you will have to help me with the pins in the back.”

He spun her around. With a deftness that showed experience she did not want to think about, he had the headdress off in no
time. He shook her hair loose with his fingers; it felt good to have it down again. As he massaged her scalp, she closed her
eyes. A small sigh escaped her.

She was helpless to unfasten the long row of buttons at the back of her close-fitting gown, so he did that, too. Though she
assured him she could manage the rest alone, he continued to help her undress. When the last garment came off, she sidestepped
out of his reach and slipped under the bedclothes.

She watched surreptitiously as he removed his own clothes. Except for his arousal—which she tried not to look at—he was quite
beautiful. She liked the strong planes of his face; the long lines of his lean, muscled body; his large, capable hands. In
the lamplight, the hair on his head and chest glinted gold and red.

As he slid into bed, she wondered if it was possible to ever get used to the feel of a naked man beside her, the tingly feeling
of skin touching skin from head to foot. He pulled her into his arms and let her rest there, her head against his chest. She
loved this part. She could lie with him like this forever.

She sighed—and immediately wished she had not. William took it as a sign he should begin what they were here for.

Damn that Edmund. It was so confusing! She let William touch her in all the ways he wanted. She refused him nothing. Yet,
tonight she felt a tension, an expectation. William wanted something from her, but she did not know what it was.

William rolled on top of her, his weight on his elbows, and began kissing her face and neck. The warmth of his mouth and breath
felt good on her skin. Should she tell him? But she remembered Rayburn slapping her so hard she saw stars when she had interrupted
his efforts. And so she kept quiet.

“I cannot do it!” William said, pounding his fists against the mattress. Abruptly, he rolled off her.

Her shock was so great that at first she could do nothing. After a few moments of tense silence, she raised herself onto her
elbow to look at him. He lay with his arms crossed over his face, as if warding off an attacker.

“William?” She touched his arm with her fingertip.

He rolled away from her and pounded his fist against the mattress again.

God help her, what could she have done to cause him to behave like this?

Sitting up, she gripped his shoulder and shook him. “William, what is it? What have I done?”

When he still did not answer, she used all her weight to pull him onto his back to face her.

“You must tell me, please,” she pleaded, but he kept his arms over his face, unable or unwilling to speak to her. “Whatever
it is, I am sorry with all my heart.”

She ran her fingers over the side of his face, but he rolled away from her again. Pressing herself against his back, she rubbed
her hands up and down his sides and kissed his neck and shoulders, attempting to comfort him. Still, he made no response.
Desperate, she crawled over him and wriggled under his arm until she was burrowed against his chest.

She put her arm around his waist and patted his back. “It is all right. I am here,” she murmured, just as she would with Jamie.

He took a long shuddering breath. She felt the tension of his muscles ease beneath her hands.

“I do not know why I displease you so much,” she said against his chest. “You must tell me what I can do to remedy it.”

William put his hand to her cheek and gave her a small smile that eased her heart. “I have wanted you to put your arms around
me, and it feels as good as I imagined.”

She blinked at him. “Is that all you require?”

“Nay, ’tis not all, but it is a start.” His smile was slightly wider now.

“What else?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

This, too, seemed a fairly simple task. She touched her lips to his, then looked at him expectantly.

“That is nice, but not quite what I want. Will you let me teach you how lovers kiss?” His smile had reached his eyes and was
positively wicked now.

Her confidence faltered. She felt out of her depth, but she nodded. She wanted to please him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kept them on hers for a long time. When she thought he was finally finished, he ran his
tongue across her bottom lip. It was hard to breathe, and she opened her mouth. When he slipped his tongue inside, she gasped.

The next time, she knew what to expect and opened her mouth to him. She had trouble thinking of anything except the kiss this
time, though it went on even longer.

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me this time.”

She swallowed back the surge of hurt rising from her chest. Why would he bring that up now? She dropped her gaze to his chest
and said, “I promised you I would not run away again.”

“That is not what I mean.” With a sigh, he pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “When I take you to bed, you let me
have your body, but your mind and spirit are elsewhere.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “I do not want to have you like that anymore, Kate. I want you with me. All of you.”

Her breath caught as she finally understood what he wanted. She was not at all sure she could do what he asked.

“I had to, with Rayburn,” she protested. “I had to. There would have been nothing left of me.” A tear slipped from the corner
of her eye, and he rubbed it away with his thumb.

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But you have no need to protect yourself from me. You can trust me.”

He believed he told her the truth. Resolving to believe it, too, she nodded.

He looked at her thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he rolled onto his back. Was he giving up on her so soon?

“Sit up, sweetheart.”

Feeling uneasy, she did as he asked. She felt embarrassed and exposed—until she saw that his eyes were closed.

“Give me your hand,” he said, waving his arm blindly.

Curiosity vied with uncertainty as she gave him her hand. She felt his hot breath on her palm as he pressed it to his lips.
Then he took her wrist and laid the flat of her hand on his chest.

“I want you to touch me.”

He guided her hand in a slow circular motion over his chest. The feel of the rough hair under her palm sent an unexpected
sensation up her arm, right to her stomach. He released his hold and let his arm fall to his side. With his eyes still closed,
he lay still, waiting.

Hesitantly, she skimmed her fingertips over his chest. The corners of his mouth turned up. Encouraged, she shifted her weight
so that she could use both hands. His breathing grew shallow as she ran her fingers in increasingly wider circles. She explored
the textures of his skin, sliding her fingers over the dip below his collarbone, the coarse hair of his chest, the smooth
skin at his sides.

Because he relinquished control to her, the urge to escape did not overtake her. In fact, she was surprised to discover she
liked touching him. He seemed all golden muscle beneath her hands.

After assuring herself his eyes were still closed, she allowed herself a good look at his member. It was, after all, sticking
out right in front of her. She kept her eyes on it as she drew her fingernails from his sides to the center of his belly.
His sharp intake of breath startled her, and she looked up at his face.

“Feels good,” he said on a long breath.

Feeling more confident, she trailed her fingers over his hip bones, on either side of his shaft. She smiled when he shivered,
enjoying the power of her touch.

Leaning over him, she rubbed firm hands up over his chest and shoulders and sent featherlight strokes down his arms. His whispered,
“God in heaven,” told her what she needed to know.

She kissed his shoulder and was rewarded with a sigh. Pleased, she trailed kisses along his throat and rubbed her cheek against
his chest. This time, it was she who sighed. Letting her hair drag over him, she inched her way down toward the flat of his
stomach, dropping kisses along the way.

She felt William’s hand rest lightly on her head, touching her for the first time since the start. As he ran his fingers through
her hair, she rested her head against his hip, enjoying the sensation. Tentatively, she slid her finger over his shaft. He
jolted half upright, jostling her head.

She sat up straight and stared at him.

“Sorry,” he said, touching her cheek. “I was not expecting it.”

Her face hot with embarrassment, she averted her eyes.

“Catherine, please,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “I would not have you feel shamed about what we do in bed,
not ever. And certainly not for something that felt so good.”

He gathered her into his arms and pulled her down to lay beside him. His breath was hot against her skin as he kissed her
forehead, the side of her face, her hair. When he sucked on her earlobe and breathed in her ear, she pressed closer against
him.

“Here, touch me again,” he said, taking her hand.

Before she could pull away, her hand was on his shaft again. Gingerly, she explored the surprisingly silky skin over the firmness
underneath. His breathing changed as she ran her hand up and down its length. Breathing a little hard herself, she did it
again. And again.

He groaned and pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking against her skin. Her head fell back. Of its own accord, her body moved
against his in rhythm with the movement of her hand.

He grabbed her wrist. “No more. I cannot—” He broke off, apparently unable to form more words.

She understood it was not displeasure that made him ask her to stop. If she had had any doubt, the deep kiss he gave her next
removed it. She felt herself merging into him as she focused with every part of her being on that kiss, on his tongue sliding
in and out of her mouth.

She held on to him as he rolled her on top of him. When she lifted her head to smile at him, her hair fell in a curtain around
his face. He kissed the tip of her nose. The feel of his chest against her breasts and the hardness of his shaft against her
belly made it difficult to breathe.

She closed her eyes as he stroked his hands up and down her back. When he moved them along the sides of her breasts, she felt
it all the way to her center. She let him draw her into another long kiss before she forced herself to pull away.

Rising to her hands and knees above him, she said with mock severity, “I thought I was to do the touching.”

Obligingly, he dropped his hands. “Do what you will with me.”

She leaned down to run her tongue along his collarbone and gasped when the tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest. It
felt so good she did it again. Slowly this time.

She forgot to reprimand him when large, warm hands covered her breasts. When he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, the sensation
that gripped her was so strong she had to rest her forehead on his chest.

She moaned in complaint when he stopped to lift her higher on the bed. Forgiveness came quickly as she felt the wetness of
his tongue circle her nipple. At the same time, he took the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips swayed
as she was drawn into a swirl of sensation. When he took her breast in his mouth and sucked, she squeezed her eyes shut against
the jolt it sent through her. Nothing, nothing, nothing felt as good as this.