There was no sign of mercy in the mocking green eyes gazing down at her.
“Do not do what, milady? Dishonor you? But ’twas you who pointed out that honor was one of my shortcomings, was it not? I merely behave as a man of my breed would do.” One hand shifted to stroke lightly over the curve of her cheek, then settled on her throat with suggested menace. “Mayhap I should reap the rewards of such a ferocious reputation. You are very fair, after all, and it has been some time since I have bedded a noblewoman.”
He deflected the blows she aimed at his head and caught her arms in a harsh grip. Deliberately, holding her gaze, he wedged a knee between her legs and thrust them wide apart. Only pride stifled a cry of protest. She knew his intent. She was no maiden and had done her wifely duty to Luc without complaint. Though her husband had been rough at times, taking his pleasure with little regard for her needs, he had rarely subjected her to force. Nor had he ever stirred in her any feelings of desire, save that it be over with quickly. Luc had not seemed to deem passion necessary.
Rolf le Draca, however, seemed determined to wrest a response from her, willing or no. He shifted his grip on her wrists to one hand, and with his other began a leisurely exploration of her body. Even through the velvet gown, she could feel the heat of his hand. Shaping her breast with his palm and fingers, he kneaded it in gentle, circular motions that sent shivering sparks through her nerve endings. She tried to bring up a knee to kick him, but he easily evaded it by gripping her leg between his thighs.
“Nay, lady,” he said softly, “you will not escape me so easily till I am done.”
Frustrated, Annice squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her muscles, willing her mind elsewhere as she had done so often with Luc. But that was not so easily managed, either. He seemed to know just where to touch to arouse the most unusual sensations. Closing his thumb and finger on her nipple, he rolled it between them. That act sparked an immediate dull, aching throb in her belly that spread lower, pulsating between her thighs. To her horror and dismay, the scalding heat of response made her moan aloud.
Her eyes snapped open to see him watching her through the bristle of his lashes. A faint smile curled his mouth.
“Cease that at once,” she managed to gasp out, and he shook his head.
“You are no maiden. You’ve played this game before. ’Twould be to your advantage to play it well, for then I might be persuaded to be lenient with you.”
How could she tell him she had no idea what he was talking about? Almost desperately she tried to twist away from him, but he held her much too easily. The iron-hardmuscles beneath his long-sleeved tunic and tight chausses were evidence enough that she waged a losing battle, but she could not yield without a struggle. It was not in her nature to surrender so easily.
“Do not force me, my lord,” she said between angry breaths. “ ’Twill go hardly with you when the king and my overlord learn what you have done.”
“I had thought to hear more convincing arguments from such a fierce adversary,” he mocked without releasing his grip the slightest bit. “Do you not have a better reasoning than that?”
“Aye!” She glared up at him. “If you take that which I do not willingly yield, I will see you spitted for it like a wild boar.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark, bearded face. “Ah, ’tis a violent nature you possess, sweet vixen. Like the fox, you bare your teeth and snarl a threat that you cannot sustain.” One hand shifted to tangle in the loose twist of her hair. He lifted it slowly, letting it slide over his palm. “I am not a hare,” he murmured, “that will fear the red fox.”
Lifting his gaze to her face, he said softly, “And I can make you yield all to me willingly enough, milady.…”
Her breath came more quickly in lungs starved for air, and she shuddered. Then her
“Do not do what, milady? Dishonor you? But ’twas you who pointed out that honor was one of my shortcomings, was it not? I merely behave as a man of my breed would do.” One hand shifted to stroke lightly over the curve of her cheek, then settled on her throat with suggested menace. “Mayhap I should reap the rewards of such a ferocious reputation. You are very fair, after all, and it has been some time since I have bedded a noblewoman.”
He deflected the blows she aimed at his head and caught her arms in a harsh grip. Deliberately, holding her gaze, he wedged a knee between her legs and thrust them wide apart. Only pride stifled a cry of protest. She knew his intent. She was no maiden and had done her wifely duty to Luc without complaint. Though her husband had been rough at times, taking his pleasure with little regard for her needs, he had rarely subjected her to force. Nor had he ever stirred in her any feelings of desire, save that it be over with quickly. Luc had not seemed to deem passion necessary.
Rolf le Draca, however, seemed determined to wrest a response from her, willing or no. He shifted his grip on her wrists to one hand, and with his other began a leisurely exploration of her body. Even through the velvet gown, she could feel the heat of his hand. Shaping her breast with his palm and fingers, he kneaded it in gentle, circular motions that sent shivering sparks through her nerve endings. She tried to bring up a knee to kick him, but he easily evaded it by gripping her leg between his thighs.
“Nay, lady,” he said softly, “you will not escape me so easily till I am done.”
Frustrated, Annice squeezed her eyes shut and tensed her muscles, willing her mind elsewhere as she had done so often with Luc. But that was not so easily managed, either. He seemed to know just where to touch to arouse the most unusual sensations. Closing his thumb and finger on her nipple, he rolled it between them. That act sparked an immediate dull, aching throb in her belly that spread lower, pulsating between her thighs. To her horror and dismay, the scalding heat of response made her moan aloud.
Her eyes snapped open to see him watching her through the bristle of his lashes. A faint smile curled his mouth.
“Cease that at once,” she managed to gasp out, and he shook his head.
“You are no maiden. You’ve played this game before. ’Twould be to your advantage to play it well, for then I might be persuaded to be lenient with you.”
How could she tell him she had no idea what he was talking about? Almost desperately she tried to twist away from him, but he held her much too easily. The iron-hardmuscles beneath his long-sleeved tunic and tight chausses were evidence enough that she waged a losing battle, but she could not yield without a struggle. It was not in her nature to surrender so easily.
“Do not force me, my lord,” she said between angry breaths. “ ’Twill go hardly with you when the king and my overlord learn what you have done.”
“I had thought to hear more convincing arguments from such a fierce adversary,” he mocked without releasing his grip the slightest bit. “Do you not have a better reasoning than that?”
“Aye!” She glared up at him. “If you take that which I do not willingly yield, I will see you spitted for it like a wild boar.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark, bearded face. “Ah, ’tis a violent nature you possess, sweet vixen. Like the fox, you bare your teeth and snarl a threat that you cannot sustain.” One hand shifted to tangle in the loose twist of her hair. He lifted it slowly, letting it slide over his palm. “I am not a hare,” he murmured, “that will fear the red fox.”
Lifting his gaze to her face, he said softly, “And I can make you yield all to me willingly enough, milady.…”
Her breath came more quickly in lungs starved for air, and she shuddered. Then her
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