Read Online FLAME OF DESIRE by Katherine Vickery - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Vickery
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times, and now she was with him. He brushed his lips over her cheek, tracing the curves of her ear with his tongue, smelling the soft spice scent of her hair. He moved his mouth to her lips and gently kissed her, rolling with her to one side to draw her against him possessively, enraptured by the embrace. A violent storm of feeling shot through him, pushing away the clouds of haze from his mind, but it was not passion which shook him, but pain. It shot through him and he groaned.
“Your wound!” heather was mortified as the spell was broken and reality flooded over her. She had forgotten all in the wonder of his arms, and now she had caused him pain.
“Wound?” He tried to get up but instead lay back down.
“Be careful!” she cautioned, touching his shoulder with gentle hands.
“The letter. Where is it?” he mumbled.
“I have it. All is well,” she assured him, her eyes moving to that hidden alcove where it rested securely.
Again he tried to get up, but was overcome by his weakness and in despair lay once again back down upon the hard straw bed. “Must get it to council. Mary.” His eyes closed tightly as he relaxed against her, all strength completely drained. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you,” she promised. “I’ll stay right here by your side.” She lay back down beside him, her hair spread out like a satin cloak over them both. He slept now as peacefully as a babe, and she too closed her eyes to return to that blissful mist of slumber.
Chapter Nine
Heather awoke as the first pale pink streaks of the dawn’s light filtered through the tiny window of the stable. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting full well to be within the familiar confines of her bedchamber, but instead saw before her stark brown wooden walls. Her heart quickened as she stiffened, eyes opening wide to take in her surroundings. She could hear the steady breathing of the man who lay beside her and she turned her head in that direction to stare into his sleeping face.
“I was not dreaming,” she breathed, assailed by the memory of being held close in this man’s arms, of the hard planes of his chest teasing her breasts, his strong thighs touching hers. Flushing, she turned away, only to return her gaze to him.
His face was etched with pain, yet still such a handsome face. His dark eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheekbones, and his full lips were parted as he drew in a shallow breath. She was tempted to reach out and touch that soft mouth which had tasted of hers with such passion, but she did not.
“There is such a strength about him, even in his wounded state,” she whispered. This time she could not resist the urge to caress him, and let her fingers touch the prickle of his beard. He stirred in his sleep and Heather, not wishing to awaken him, molded her body once again to his.
The heat of his body was arousing as they lay curled up together, his uninjured arm flung across her stomach, his leg resting between hers in a position of intimacy. They seemed to fit together with perfect unity as if made each for the other. She spread her hand over his chest and felt the light furring of hair there, heard the beat of his heart, and closed her eyes in contentment.
The sound of neighing horses, chirping birds, and Harold Perriwincle’s hammering awoke Heather anew. Easing herself onto her elbow, slowly so as not to waken the man beside her, she let her eyes drift down his body. The wound did not appear to be infected, nor was there any sign of bleeding. Her gaze moved lower, lingering on his chest and hips in a manner unmaidenly and quite bold. Having slept alone all her life, she now wondered what it would be like to awaken to this man beside her, his arms about her possessively, his hands tangled in the long strands of her hair, for all the mornings of her life.
“Am I still dreaming?” A husky voice startled her and she looked up to find the penetrating blue depths of his eyes staring at
“Your wound!” heather was mortified as the spell was broken and reality flooded over her. She had forgotten all in the wonder of his arms, and now she had caused him pain.
“Wound?” He tried to get up but instead lay back down.
“Be careful!” she cautioned, touching his shoulder with gentle hands.
“The letter. Where is it?” he mumbled.
“I have it. All is well,” she assured him, her eyes moving to that hidden alcove where it rested securely.
Again he tried to get up, but was overcome by his weakness and in despair lay once again back down upon the hard straw bed. “Must get it to council. Mary.” His eyes closed tightly as he relaxed against her, all strength completely drained. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t leave you,” she promised. “I’ll stay right here by your side.” She lay back down beside him, her hair spread out like a satin cloak over them both. He slept now as peacefully as a babe, and she too closed her eyes to return to that blissful mist of slumber.
Chapter Nine
Heather awoke as the first pale pink streaks of the dawn’s light filtered through the tiny window of the stable. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting full well to be within the familiar confines of her bedchamber, but instead saw before her stark brown wooden walls. Her heart quickened as she stiffened, eyes opening wide to take in her surroundings. She could hear the steady breathing of the man who lay beside her and she turned her head in that direction to stare into his sleeping face.
“I was not dreaming,” she breathed, assailed by the memory of being held close in this man’s arms, of the hard planes of his chest teasing her breasts, his strong thighs touching hers. Flushing, she turned away, only to return her gaze to him.
His face was etched with pain, yet still such a handsome face. His dark eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheekbones, and his full lips were parted as he drew in a shallow breath. She was tempted to reach out and touch that soft mouth which had tasted of hers with such passion, but she did not.
“There is such a strength about him, even in his wounded state,” she whispered. This time she could not resist the urge to caress him, and let her fingers touch the prickle of his beard. He stirred in his sleep and Heather, not wishing to awaken him, molded her body once again to his.
The heat of his body was arousing as they lay curled up together, his uninjured arm flung across her stomach, his leg resting between hers in a position of intimacy. They seemed to fit together with perfect unity as if made each for the other. She spread her hand over his chest and felt the light furring of hair there, heard the beat of his heart, and closed her eyes in contentment.
The sound of neighing horses, chirping birds, and Harold Perriwincle’s hammering awoke Heather anew. Easing herself onto her elbow, slowly so as not to waken the man beside her, she let her eyes drift down his body. The wound did not appear to be infected, nor was there any sign of bleeding. Her gaze moved lower, lingering on his chest and hips in a manner unmaidenly and quite bold. Having slept alone all her life, she now wondered what it would be like to awaken to this man beside her, his arms about her possessively, his hands tangled in the long strands of her hair, for all the mornings of her life.
“Am I still dreaming?” A husky voice startled her and she looked up to find the penetrating blue depths of his eyes staring at
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