The Bargain (11 page)

Velvety soft, and tasting of mint, her tongue danced with his. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling a little. He felt her desperation to the very depths of his soul.

Lifting her in his arms, he strode toward the bed, where he gently laid her down on the covers and stared at her for a long moment. He would never forget the image for as long as he lived. The desire in her green eyes. Aye, she was perfect in every way, this little enemy of his.

She lifted her arms, and he joined her on the bed, crawling between her thighs. His fingers returned to her heated core. He swallowed a groan as he slipped one finger within her, then another. She was already so wet, so hot, her honeyed walls gripping his fingers tight.

Moaning, she bit into his lower lip as his thumb brushed against the sensitive knot of flesh nestled between her folds. She arched her hips against his hand, and when he rubbed the pleasure spot inside her inner walls, he was pleased when she moaned again, the contractions squeezing his fingers.

Reaching between them, her fingers slid down his rigid cock and up again. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so hard, or his need so great, and he feared he would spend himself if she did not stop.

Her fingers curled around his cock, making a tight fist, moving in a frantic rhythm. In truth, her awkward strokes excited him more than had she known exactly what to do. His balls tightened and with a low-throated moan he grabbed her wrist, halting her. She reared back, her brow furrowed. "You do not like my touch?"

How wounded she looked and sounded. He smiled to ease her mind. "I like it too much."

Comprehension came over her slowly, along with a relieved smile, before she kissed him once more. With hand on his chest, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, surprising him yet again with her boldness.

Her long hair tickled his thighs and belly. How beautiful she was, her full breasts, the nipples erect, begging to be suckled. His gaze lowered to her flat stomach and the patch of pale curls at her damp womanhood. Her musky scent aroused him even more. She was a vixen who was fast learning her power.

Her gaze shifted to his chest, where she splayed her hands and touched him. Her fingers grazed his nipples before moving down over his stomach, which tightened at her touch. His cock rested against his navel, and she bit her bottom lip as she stroked him, her fingers teasing the plum-sized head. How determined she looked. When her gaze met his, he was shocked and pleased at the heat he saw in their light-green depths.

"Ride me, Aleysia," he coaxed.

She went up on her knees, and sank down on his cock, taking him slowly into her. Though he yearned to thrust and bury himself in her womb, he refrained and let her take control, even if it tested his strength of will like never before.

Once she settled on him fully, he clenched his jaw as her sheath gripped him like a hot glove. Buried to the hilt, she rotated her hips in a small circle. He reached for her, cupping her breasts with each palm. She arched her back, giving him better access.

Sitting up, he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it lightly. Her arms encircled his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair, pulling him tighter to her breast. She moved slowly, up and down his length, finding her own rhythm.

Sweat beaded his brow, and he forced himself to contain his climax, keep it at bay until she was ready to come. He tried to think of other things—anything but being buried within her sweet body, but failed time and again. Then he felt it at the same time Aleysia gasped and bit into his shoulder—the tiny contractions grew stronger, her sheath pulsing around his length as she came.

His mouth left one nipple to service the other; his fingers stroked the one he'd just suckled, pulling it lightly, pinching it softly over and over again. His other hand moved down her back, over the high arc of her buttocks, slipping between the cleft there.

Her breath hitched a little and he smiled, cupping her ass, pulling her tighter against him.

Her pace increased as he suckled harder. Nails raked across his shoulders as she came again, her sheath tightened around him, squeezing and coating his cock with her honey.

He fell back onto the mattress, grabbed her waist, and lifted his hips.

With her faint tremors still pulsing around him, he took control and rolled her onto her back, his thrusts long and fluid. The bed rocked, pounding against the wall with the force of his strokes. The slap of skin against skin reverberated in the room.

Sweat poured off him, but he refrained from coming until he brought her to climax again. He wanted her crying his name. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and he spread her thighs wider, tucking his hips to go as deep in her as possible.

Her fingers slid around the headboard above her head. She opened her eyes, and the need he saw there made him even harder. "Renaud," she said on a moan.

Her inner walls clenched his cock like a vise, drawing out his seed. He came with a loud, satisfied groan.

He rolled until she lay fully on him. She smiled against his lips, her breathing labored, her heart pounding hard against his. Lord, he would never be able to release her. It would be impossible. His fingers slid up and down along her spine, loving the silky-soft feel of her skin against his rough hands.

The pounding of her heart eased as the minutes ticked by, and still she lay on him, not moving. With his free hand, he brushed her hair back from her face, caressing a silky strand between his finger and thumb.

He could get used to times like these, lying about with a beautiful woman. A novelty for him, a man whose mind always seemed to be on other matters that required his attention. Yet now, even wild horses couldn't drag him away from this woman, who lay so still and content in his arms.

Just the thought of being separated from her made him uneasy. It was too new, these emotions he felt, not to mention confusing. How could he feel them so quickly, especially for a woman he had not even known existed a fortnight ago?

Lust, plain and simple,
his better judgment said, nothing less, nothing more.

Whatever the case, this brave woman had worked her way into his soul. She had lost so much in her tender years. In truth, she would lose the one man who meant most to her by month's end. Then she would have no one.

But she would have him.

Yet would it be enough?

"My lord, would you like a glass of warm wine?" she asked, rolling off him.

Surprised by the request, since she had never brought wine into the chamber before, he nodded and watched as she slid from the bed and walked over to a table where a tray with two goblets sat.

He liked that she made no effort to cover herself. Her long legs were sheer perfection, her ass high and tight. The softly curved hips and slender waist.

Already his cock stirred.

She spilled some of the wine and smiled sheepishly. "I am so clumsy."

"It matters not, Aleysia," he replied, thinking how much he would like to lick the wine from her body. Mayhap she would not mind such an exercise after they rested awhile.

She returned to the bed, and handed him a goblet, her long blonde hair falling about her, a pink nipple visible behind the pale strands.

He reached up and stroked the small bud with his fingers and she sucked in a breath. "My lord, have you not had enough sport for one night?"

"I cannot help it. You are so beautiful. Already I want you again." She glanced at his growing erection and grinned before she sipped the wine.

He lifted the goblet to his lips and stopped, smelling the faintest hint of a strange, bitter scent. Disbelief rushed over him, along with a sick feeling. She had tainted the wine, but with what—poison?

She watched him intently—almost expectantly? He pretended to take a long swallow, and then set the goblet on the side table. She looked over at the goblet, instantly wary. "You did not drink very much, my lord. Do you not like the wine?"

"Would you like some?" he asked, reaching for the goblet.

"Nay," she said, her cheeks turning pink as he stared. "I have my own."

And he knew in that moment that she had done exactly what he had feared. She had seduced him into bed. Coaxed him to drink the poisoned wine, so she could escape with her brother. No wonder she had been so agreeable these past days, not asking to see Adelstan. He had thought it odd, but dismissed it, thinking mayhap she might be coming around now that she knew her brother's fate had been decided. Instead, it was clear she meant to leave him by way of killing him or drugging him.

How innocent she looked, her eyes wide, her smile soft and angelic. Had the entire night been an act then, he wondered, remembering her coyness during supper, or the way she had let her inhibitions go tonight while they made love. If it had been pretend, she had become quite an actress.

He forced a smile. "I have nearly drank the entire cup, my lady. I was thirsty after such sport."

She looked relieved then, and set her goblet aside as she snuggled up against him. "I am so tired," she said, yawning and stretching at his side, before settling down and closing her eyes. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, Aleysia," he replied, glancing over to where her dress lay draped over a chair, and beside it her boots and stockings.

Aye, she was leaving. Clever, devious woman.

His father had been right.

He should never trust a woman.

CHAPTER 10

Aleysia's heart thudded hard against her breastbone. Renaud's breathing had been even for over an hour. After drinking the wine he had fallen right to sleep, and she had lain in his arms, too afraid to move for fear he would wake.

Ironically, she felt guilty. Tonight she had planned to seduce him, and instead he had seduced her, making love to her, bringing her such pleasure she had nearly wept with joy. Each climax had been stronger than the one before it, leaving her sated and content. Any woman would desire such a lover in her bed.

Sadly, she would never know such pleasure again. She stole a glance toward her gown, draped over the chair, her boots and cloak nearby. Everything was ready, and she must leave now if she hoped to rescue Adelstan from the tower and escape the castle before dawn. Hopefully, the healer's grandson had left earlier today with the message for Duncan.

If the young man made good time, then Duncan should be able to catch up with them soon enough, since Aleysia and Adelstan would be on foot. They could break for the border and never look back.

Ignoring the deep ache in her heart, she looked at the door. She had no time to lose. Slowly she eased away from Renaud's side, moving only inches at a time, waiting, praying he did not wake. The fire had died down and the room was so cold, her breath formed fog in the air. She glanced at Renaud in the warm bed she'd just left, wishing to be back there, safe and warm in his arms. If only things could have been different for them. They could have married, had children, and raised their family on the same land where she had grown up.

Pushing the thought aside, she ran her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. She'd best get used to the cold, for there would be many cold nights before they reached Duncan's village.

On the tips of her toes, she made her way across the chamber and dressed quickly, checking over her shoulder to make sure Renaud did not stir. If he woke and saw her dressing, he would know the truth and all her efforts would be for naught.

But he had drunk the wine and she trusted the healer. Nay, Renaud
would
sleep for hours. God willing, by the time he woke, she and Adelstan would be well on their way for the border.

Tying her cloak tight about her shoulders, she grabbed the canvas bag filled with enough provisions to get them through the days ahead. Aleysia spared one more glance toward the bed.

Renaud's chest lifted with each breath, his head turned toward the other side of the chamber.

She ignored the pain in her chest at leaving, confused at her feelings about this man who had turned her life upside down in such a short time. This man who had taken her virginity by way of a bargain. A bargain he had reneged on.

Stop it, Aleysia!

She should hate him and be rejoicing that finally she was escaping, never to return.

Focusing on her anger served her better. Without a backward glance, she pushed open the door, relieved to find no guards present. She quietly shut it behind her, and started up the stairwell. Her heart pounded so hard, it was a roar in her ears. Calming herself, she started up the dark stairwell, praying that when she got to the top she would find the guards sound asleep.

The flame of the torches fluttered as she passed by, and in the wavering light she imagined someone right behind her, which hurried her along. Hopefully, Adelstan's shackles had been removed since her last visit. If the healer had been called in, then chances were they were still off—unless Renaud had requested otherwise. She would know soon enough, for she had reached the tower, and heard the soft snores of the guards.

Relief rushed over her at the sight of the guards' limp forms slumped over. She went down on her haunches beside one of the armed men who lay sprawled near the door, the keys slightly under him, a dagger in hand. One false move and he could kill her.

Heart in her throat, Aleysia gently nudged the big man aside. He smacked his lips loudly, and for a heart-stopping moment she feared he would open his eyes and find her hunched down beside him. However, luck was on her side, for he rolled into the other guard, leaning just enough for her to get hold of the keys.

Aleysia stood and tried to fit one of the keys into the lock, but it was not a match. One of the guards muttered under his breath, and she fumbled with the heavy ring, nearly dropping it in her haste, but caught the ring just before it hit the floor.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she glanced at the guards, relieved to find them both still asleep. Trembling, she tried another key in the lock. She winced as it clicked loudly, and waited a moment before pushing on the heavy door.