stomach gave an unfamiliar lurch when he bent his head to place his lips where his hand had been. She felt the damp heat of his tongue against her breast, wetting the material of her cotte as he drew her nipple into his mouth. A flash of heat ignited in her belly and lower, making her ache most strangely. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a peculiar, hot writhing inside that made her breath shorten and her face feel flushed.
“My … my lord,” she said in a strangled gasp, “please.…”
His head lifted. The lamplight behind emblazoned his hair with bright gold yet left his face shadowed. He gazed down at her for a long moment. A thoughtful smile curled his lips. With his knee still between her thighs, he settled his body closer, so that she could feel the thrust of his arousal against her belly. That evidence of his resolve shook her more than she had thought possible. She could not stillthe sudden tremors that made her quake like an untried maiden.
“Nay,” she said in a broken plea, “do not …” She bit her lower lip to still a spate of words that would surely shame her yet still not sway this grim knight from his purpose. There was determination in the touch of his hand and the burning light in his eyes.
“Let us see,” he murmured, “what you hide beneath your gown, lady fair.”
Annice closed her eyes as his fingers caught in the neck of her gown and gave a sharp jerk. The velvet parted with a ripping sound of thread and fabric. She wore nothing beneath her gown but a sleeveless tunic of loose-woven linen and white stockings tied at the knees with silk garters.
It took him only a moment to divest her of the outer garment, tossing the shreds carelessly to the floor. She lay shivering in her knee-length tunic, eyes tightly shut. The air was cool on her bared flesh. She felt helpless and exposed, completely at the mercy of this angry baron.
“Yea,” he muttered thickly, “you are most fair indeed. P’raps I shall delay sending a message to my lord of Seabrook.”
Still shivering, she opened her eyes to look up at him. There was an intense expression on his face as he gazed down at her. Thick, long lashes hid his eyes, but when he finally looked up, she recognized the hot glitter in his gaze. Just so had Luc looked at times, the same narrowed, intent light in his eyes that would precede his most amorous efforts. Yet this knight cared naught for her yea or nay in the matter, but did what he was wont to do without regard for her agreement.
“Nay,” she whispered, hating the way her voice sounded more pleading than defiant. “Do not delay my release.…”
Sitting back on his heels, he lifted a brow. His weight was still heavy on her legs, pinning her to the mattress. A mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth. “What do I hear, my lady? Do you wish to sign the letter I would send, then? Is that what you signify?”
Annice swallowed a too-hasty reply. If she agreed, she was well and truly defeated. He would know the best wayto force her to his ends, whatever they might be. And would her signing of the letter save her from him? Nay, she knew better than that. It would be only the first step up the scaffold of her destruction.
Drawing in a deep breath, she said simply, “Nay, ’tis not what I meant at all.”
For a moment he just stared at her, then gave a light shrug of his broad shoulders. The movement made the gilt dragon on his tunic appear alive, with gold and green-gilt scales shimmering in the faint light. Releasing her wrists, le Draca’s hands went to the belt at his waist.
Instinctively, Annice threw up her hands. She had received too many beatings with Luc’s belt not to know what came next, and she would protect her face if possible.
To her surprise le Draca’s hands stilled. He scowled. “I do not mean to beat you, Lady Annice, so do not cower like a whipped cur.”
Not quite believing him, she kept her arms up over her face. Then her heart gave a
“My … my lord,” she said in a strangled gasp, “please.…”
His head lifted. The lamplight behind emblazoned his hair with bright gold yet left his face shadowed. He gazed down at her for a long moment. A thoughtful smile curled his lips. With his knee still between her thighs, he settled his body closer, so that she could feel the thrust of his arousal against her belly. That evidence of his resolve shook her more than she had thought possible. She could not stillthe sudden tremors that made her quake like an untried maiden.
“Nay,” she said in a broken plea, “do not …” She bit her lower lip to still a spate of words that would surely shame her yet still not sway this grim knight from his purpose. There was determination in the touch of his hand and the burning light in his eyes.
“Let us see,” he murmured, “what you hide beneath your gown, lady fair.”
Annice closed her eyes as his fingers caught in the neck of her gown and gave a sharp jerk. The velvet parted with a ripping sound of thread and fabric. She wore nothing beneath her gown but a sleeveless tunic of loose-woven linen and white stockings tied at the knees with silk garters.
It took him only a moment to divest her of the outer garment, tossing the shreds carelessly to the floor. She lay shivering in her knee-length tunic, eyes tightly shut. The air was cool on her bared flesh. She felt helpless and exposed, completely at the mercy of this angry baron.
“Yea,” he muttered thickly, “you are most fair indeed. P’raps I shall delay sending a message to my lord of Seabrook.”
Still shivering, she opened her eyes to look up at him. There was an intense expression on his face as he gazed down at her. Thick, long lashes hid his eyes, but when he finally looked up, she recognized the hot glitter in his gaze. Just so had Luc looked at times, the same narrowed, intent light in his eyes that would precede his most amorous efforts. Yet this knight cared naught for her yea or nay in the matter, but did what he was wont to do without regard for her agreement.
“Nay,” she whispered, hating the way her voice sounded more pleading than defiant. “Do not delay my release.…”
Sitting back on his heels, he lifted a brow. His weight was still heavy on her legs, pinning her to the mattress. A mocking smile touched the corners of his mouth. “What do I hear, my lady? Do you wish to sign the letter I would send, then? Is that what you signify?”
Annice swallowed a too-hasty reply. If she agreed, she was well and truly defeated. He would know the best wayto force her to his ends, whatever they might be. And would her signing of the letter save her from him? Nay, she knew better than that. It would be only the first step up the scaffold of her destruction.
Drawing in a deep breath, she said simply, “Nay, ’tis not what I meant at all.”
For a moment he just stared at her, then gave a light shrug of his broad shoulders. The movement made the gilt dragon on his tunic appear alive, with gold and green-gilt scales shimmering in the faint light. Releasing her wrists, le Draca’s hands went to the belt at his waist.
Instinctively, Annice threw up her hands. She had received too many beatings with Luc’s belt not to know what came next, and she would protect her face if possible.
To her surprise le Draca’s hands stilled. He scowled. “I do not mean to beat you, Lady Annice, so do not cower like a whipped cur.”
Not quite believing him, she kept her arms up over her face. Then her heart gave a
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