wcEND.rtf (18 page)

Vexed!
Isabel couldn't believe she'd thought
t
hat word. She was being unduly influenced by her medieval surroundings.

Good God! She had to get out of here.

She left the bench to stand before the other table against the wall. "I realize this has been a very trying time for you," she said conciliatorily. "But it has been very trying for me as well."

His stance softened, anger disappearing, though a shadow still covered his eyes. He strolled to stand before her. Almost tentatively he brought her into his welcoming embrace and Isabel allowed her head to rest on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat thrumming against her ears while he kissed the top of her head.

Sensing his need for comfort, a need that mirrored her own, her arms encircled his waist and Isabel hugged him, as much offering as taking comfort from that embrace.

Hunter lifted her face to his and his gaze settled on her mouth. Isabel wanted to kiss him so badly her lips trembled. His fine body hardened against hers, unleashing her own desire.

She knew if she gave in to her desire for him, she'd never be able to forget him. And forget him she must. She stepped back, though still within the confines of his arms.

"Hunter." Her raspy, foreign voice surprised her again, reminding her of whose body she was in. "I want you," she said, deciding to be at least this honest with him. "I want you, but I cannot make love with you. Not now, not yet." She knew she was putting herself in harm's way by denying him yet again, but if she could only keep him at bay a day or so more, she still could find the chalice and leave him before her heart had been completely stolen from her. Before he had anything to regret.

"What difference can a few days make?" he asked, his own voice so husky it melted her insides.

"All the difference in the world." Détra should be back in her own body by then. "I want it to be perfect between
us when we finally come together." They would never be together.

"It shall be perfect," he whispered, pulling her closer.

"Not if I feel I am making love to a stranger."

"I shall not be a stranger for long," he vowed. His hand caressed her naked neck, drawing goose bumps over her entire body.

Isabel didn't know how, but every time they were together they ended up in each other's arms. And every time she pulled back she hurt Hunter anew. Perhaps it was time to give in a little.

"Perhaps you are right," she said. "But we should take this slowly. One step at a time." She inched her way closer to him. "One touch at a time." She threaded her fingers through his tousled dark hair, surprised at how soft it was. Then she kissed him softly.

But Hunter would have none of that. He gathered her in his arm and deepened the kiss with undisguised hunger.

And she kissed him back in kind.

Kissed him because his mouth begged for kisses, his body tempted her touch, and his heart deserved to be loved. Kissed him in hello, kissed him in good-bye, and God help her, kissed him because she didn't know when or if she would ever feel this way again about a man.

And as she kissed him she lowered her hand to that part of him that throbbed against her.

AT
Détra
's unexpected touch, Hunter staggered back against the table. The strong legs that had supported him and his hauberk in many a battle now quavered like badly mended sticks as she rubbed her palm against his arousal.

She had come willingly to him! Would she also be ready to surrender her heart?

Through the cloth of his breeches, Détra's fingers curled around his engorged member, squeezing it, rubbing it in rhythmic moves, scattering his wits.

He had suffered such unfulfilled desire for Détra since their wedding night that the promise in her passionate touch dazzled him. Halfheartedly he pulled away, but she refused to relinquish her power over him. His mind commanded him to stop her torturing touch before he lost control and spilled his seed l
i
ke an untried boy. His body demanded he relish the pleasure of her rare touch.

Just a moment longer, he told himself, unconsciously allowing the moment to stretch indefinitely while her hand kept him captive and her tongue explored his mouth.

His heartbeat pounded so loud and fast in his throat he feared he would loose his heart in Détra'
s
kiss, and when her hand buried underneath his breeches, searing his skin with her bare touch, unbridling long-sought pleasure, Hunter knew he had waited too long.

The urgent need that refused to be denied overrode his wi
l
l and turned him into a mindless heap of sensation. His head fell back with the force of his release as his growl echoed in the four walls of the chamber like thunder caught in a cave.

Moments later, when he finally caught his breath, Hunter opened his eyes. He found Détra beyond his reach.

"You should have stopped," he chided mildly, aware he was the one who lost control.

"I wanted to bring you release." Her throaty voice was raspier than usual.

"That you did." His grin was a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. He would give himself a few moments more, then, when able again, he would return the boon to her. Meanwhile, he needed to hold her close. He pushed away from the table and opened his arms to her. "Come," he invited.

But Détra didn't move. .

"I shall not leave you dissatisfied," he insisted.

Détra stepped farther away from his grasp. "There is no need," she said. "It was enough for me to give you pleasure."

Hunter froze in place, awareness slowly replacing his momentary elation. It took him a moment to realize what her words signified, but when it finally dawned on him he staggered back as if she had slapped him in the face.

Had she shared such a
n intimacy with him only to con
tinue to deny him? Fresh suspicion joined the nagging doubts he already entertained about Détra. Doubts about her lack of memory. Doubts about her apparent change. Doubts she would honor her vow to surrender to him once this sennight was over.

Hunter's smile disappeared, shame replacing embarrassment. Shame for his weakness and gullibility. Shame for allowing his lady wife to manipulate him to her own will.

Shame that Détra had rejected him yet again.

Feeling unmanned, Hunter rearranged his clothing. A man could take just so much humbling, and God was witness he had suffered his fair share in his life. These past days alone should last him a lifetime.

"Well, my lady wife," he said, forcing the pain from his voice.
"
That was truly edifying."

He turned his back on her and strolled to the table in the middle of the room, where he refilled his cup with
wine. He took a good swallow, trying to put his thoughts in place.

"
These past few days have been very trying for both of us," Détra said. "I just wanted to give you some joy, to let you know that I care, even though it might not look like it."

Hunter spun around. The little wine left in his cup spilled out with the force of his spin. Joy? Care? Was she trying to justify the unseemly way she handled him? To make excuses for her constant rejection of him? Mortification burned his face. "Should I be grateful for the scrap of intimacy you have just thrown my way?" he shouted.

She jerked back at his outburst. "That was not what that was."

Not bothering to hide his frustration Hunter cast the cup across the room. It hit the wall with a loud clink that somehow seemed distant and detached. With two long
strides he reached her. He stood before her, towering above her, glaring down at her as he struggled to control his rising anger as desire swiftly fled away. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. Wanted to push her down on the table and take her here and now, ending once and for all this game she played.

"Pray tell me," he hissed between gritted teeth. "What was that then?"

Détra withstood his glare with impossible composure. Hunter was torn between contempt for her coldness and admiration for her mettle.

"That was all I could give you at this time," she said.

Contempt won out. All she chose to give him, he silently corrected her.

"Indeed," he said. "But I expect more than a whore's trick from my lady wife."

She paled, her eyes narrowing in pain, and then anger. How dare she be angry with him? She had made a foo
!
of him for the last time.

Hunter gripped her shoulders, ignoring the sting on his wounded hand. It was his God-given right to take her here and now. No one would dare interfere. No one would gainsay him. No one would berate him for forcing an unwilling wife to do her duty by her husband.

"There shall be no more waiting for us," Hunter said, tightening his grip on her.

Détra stiffened in his arms. Her breath came in small gasps and her eyes burned with anger, then shadowed with fear. Her hands curled around his forearms but she said naught.

Her silence made Hunter realize that though no one would condemn his deeds, his wife would. If he took her now when his heart was so full of anger and shame there would be naught but anger and shame between them. He had waited too long, bargained too much, and co
m
pro
m
ised his future to have her love and acceptance.

The chalice had given him a chance to right the wrongs of his marriage to Détra. He could not forget that.

He would give Détra one last chance. He would give his heart wish one last chance. But he would wait no more.

He let go of her. "This night I expect your full surrender," he said. "And God is my witness, do you reject me again, I shall not respond for my deeds."

Tearing his gaze away from her he marched to the door. As he opened it he made a show of rearranging his garments. There would be no doubt in anyone's mind that he and Détra had just enjoyed a tryst in the middle of the day
.

And after this night there would be no doubt in his wife's mind that her control over him had ceased to exist.

******************

ISABEL STARED IN BEWILDERMENT AT THE RETREATING Hunter. What had gone wrong? How could her attempt to mollify him have gone so awry? Instead of mellowing, the man had been furious with her, behaving as if she had committed a mortal sin when he seemed to have enjoyed her touch very much.

He had even called her a whore, the self-righteous bastard!

Indignity filled Isabel with rage. She swore she would be out of Détra'
s
body before the sun set on the horizon this day. She still had a few places to look. And if she didn't find it and Hunter decided to behave like a Neanderthal tonight, she would fight him all the way.

Isabel blinked back tears of frustration and, with trembling hands, filled a cup with wine, then took a big swallow of the red liquid. The almost-tart taste burned her throat, but after a few more gulps her insides calmed.

She was through feeling guilty over this whole mess. Her one stupid, unintentional mistake had snowballed into a vortex of consequences totally out of her control. She'd hoped she'd find the chalice immediately after she first realized what her wish had provoked, thus reversing the travesty and avoiding having to take another woman's place in her husband's arms. She had even tried her damnedest to do the right thing for everyone's sake, though it was naï
v
e of her to think she could keep Hunter at bay without consequences. She shou
l
d've been worrying primarily about her survival and safety, and not whose feelings would be hurt, hers included.