Page 37

“Yes. I thought you would be more comfortable that way.” He brought his lips to her ear. “Sian, I?—”

“No, please. Don’t say anything. We know you shouldn’t be here.”

And she should ask him to leave. But she could not. Even after her wedding to another man, he was at the center of her world, he was the heart of her soul, the light of her life.

She still wanted him, would never stop loving him.

Hadn’t she run to him the day he’d been hurt at the joust? Hadn’t she gone to Throckmorton Castle to confront Lord Ashton over what he’d done the first chance she’d gotten? Didn’t that prove she couldn’t let it go?

“I still want you too,” he groaned, echoing her thoughts.

Yes. She could tell. He didn’t want only her body even if she could feel his hardness pressing against her stomach. He wanted all of her. It was audible in the timbre of his voice, obvious from the way he was looking at her; it flowed from every inch of his body.

And she wanted him too.

“I am married now,” she reminded him—and herself. Dear, oh, dear, how many times would she have to remind herself of it? How long before she succumbed to the temptation of forgetting it? “We cannot be together in … that way. I will not betray my husband thus. He doesn’t deserve it.”

This was torture, testing her inner resolve to the limit. Sian had once thought that not knowing whether Christopher returned her feelings or not was the worst torture she could endure. It was not.

Hearing, seeing, feeling that he did return her feelings all the while knowing they could not act on them was a thousand times harder.

“I know you won’t betray your husband.” His mouth was still at her ear.

What was it doing there? She wanted it on her cheek, on her lips.

She was dying to taste him. They had kissed only once; it was not enough, nowhere near enough.

“I would like to say that I care not, that you don’t owe anything to him, but I won’t.

Because as much as it pains me, I admire you for your moral rectitude.

In your place, I would be incapable of it. ”

“Does that mean you will respect my wishes?”

That surprised her. Why had he come to her bed if not to make love to her?

“Yes, if it kills me. I hurt you once. I won’t do it again.”

Christopher could barely speak. The pulsing in his veins was agony, the heat of Sian’s body against him torture, the smell invading his nostrils temptation itself.

And yet he could not surrender to it. Had he damned only his own soul by taking her, he would have gladly sent everything to hell.

Sian would even now be writhing under him, begging for more, crying out his name again and again.

But he would not do that to her. She did not deserve the burden he would place on her shoulders because then she would have to live with the consequences of his loss of control.

She was the married one, not him. She would have to face her husband knowing she had lain in another man’s arms. She would have to worry about birthing a child whose paternity she could not be certain of because this time, he would not be able to stop himself from taking his pleasure to the full.

If he ever got inside her heat, he would not withdraw until he’d emptied every drop of his seed inside her. It would be more than sex, more than lovemaking even; it would be a claiming. A claiming he had no right to. In the eyes of the world, she belonged to Lord Cantle.

He, of course, knew differently, and she did as well.

They belonged together, and nothing could change that, not a piece of parchment with names on it, not words pronounced by a man who did not even know them.

The marriage certificate meant nothing to him.

The priest who had conducted her wedding ceremony meant nothing to him.

But Sian did.

Her dignity, her ability to keep her self-esteem, and her future peace of mind were his priorities. His desire, his needs, didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

“You won’t take me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in it. It brought a smile to his lips. The little lamb was hoping the wolf within him would give her no choice and force her to take what she secretly wanted.

“No, I won’t take you. Because I know it’s not what you want.

In here.” He tapped the side of her head lightly with his finger.

“Even if you ache for me here.” The finger landed on her breast, over the place where he guessed her heart was drumming in unison with his.

Somehow, he found the strength not to squeeze. “And even if you burn for me here.”

Christopher stilled before his fingers could touch the place between her thighs. She was wearing only her shift. If he felt her heat, her soft, intimate hairs through the thin fabric, he would not be accountable for his actions. He bunched his fist.

“I do,” she moaned, as loudly as if he had actually slid his finger inside her. His blood started to sizzle. “I ache for you. I burn for you.”

“And I for you.”

“Kiss me,” Sian begged. “My body may belong to my husband, but my every breath is yours. Take what’s yours. No one can object to that.”

Before he could protest or say anything, she fell on him, coming to straddle his hips, trapping his diamond-hard cock between their two bodies. Did she have any idea how alluring she was in that position? How close he was to lifting her and impaling her onto the hardness giving him no rest?

“Sian, please,” he rasped. “You’re killing me.

” She bit her bottom lip and straightened back up, as if understanding she was asking too much of him.

He caught her by the waist and drew her back to him before she could slide off him.

Having her sitting over him was torture, but having her leave would be death.

His whole body slackened in surrender. “Oh God, kill me, then. I’ll die anyway if I don’t kiss you. ”

This kiss was the most intense one he had ever experienced in his life. It was not a kiss; it was so much more. Christopher made love to Sian with his mouth, did all he could not do to other parts of her body, took each of the breaths she offered.

All the while, he kept his arms by his side and she her hands by his head.

There was no touching. Yes, perhaps it was just a kiss, after all.

Surely, even the sternest, dried-up souls would agree he had earned the right to let Sian know how he felt about her.

So he let her know, over and over again, using his lips, his tongue, his soul.

Then Sian started to undulate over him. He did nothing to stop her. He had promised he would not take her, and he would honor that promise, but he was a man, not a saint.

Let the demon from hell make what he would of his victim’s actions.

Christopher would let Sian get the friction she needed.

Married or not, she was allowed to pleasure herself.

That she chose to do it by grinding her folds against his cock rather than rubbing her own fingers against her flesh was neither here nor there, in his opinion.

Knowing that by using him, she could still reach the release he was not allowed to give her was all that mattered.

“Christopher.” One word tinged with panic. She was afraid of the sensations building in her body. He was not afraid. This was no betrayal; it was what she was owed, the least he could offer her for all he had made her endure.

“Yes, sweetheart, I know,” he breathed against her lips.

Her impossibly soft lips, swollen from their earlier kiss.

His were tingling, as was the lower part of his body.

He arched against her, increasing the pressure against her folds.

He had never been so hard, so desperate.

But he was desperate on her behalf. He needed to know he would not leave her unsatisfied.

“I’m here. Take the pleasure you need. My body is yours. Use it. Use me. I’m here.”

It was as if his words had pushed her over the edge. She cried into his mouth, a delicious, lust-filled moan that was his undoing. His seed shot out of him, pooling between them, soaking his clothes, scalding his skin, stealing his sanity. Sian whimpered and collapsed against his chest.

He did touch her then, to stop her from sliding off the mattress in a tangle of limbs and injuring herself.

She was as limp and soft as a kitten. Kitten.

Mm, yes, maybe she would like that better than lamb.

He would have asked her what she thought if he could talk, but he could not.

He couldn’t move. He could barely lift his eyelids.

After a long moment, he deposited Sian next to him. He’d thought her half asleep, but she bolted upright as soon as he made to leave the bed.

“No! Don’t leave!” she cried out. “Stay with me. This is the only night we’ll ever have. You won’t take me, and I understand why. But please, let me have this at least. A moment in your arms.”

He stroked her cheek in a soothing gesture. Of course he would let her—and himself—have this night. “I’m not leaving. I was only going to …” He cleared his throat. With anyone else, his loss of control would have been excruciatingly embarrassing. “I was going to wash.”

Her eyes flicked over to his groin, and even in the moonlight, he saw her cheeks flush crimson.

There was a basin of water and a piece of cloth on the chest by the hearth. Christopher made quick work of discarding his clothes and wiping himself clean. Leaving everything in a pile, he walked back to the bed naked.

Sian, who’d been watching him all the while, nodded, as if to signify her approval. Then she took her shift off and lay back down on the mattress, waiting for him to take his place by her side. He slipped back under the covers and took her into his arms.

“Thank you,” she breathed in his ear.

For a long moment, they lay side by side, skin to skin, soul to soul. Then Christopher spoke.

“When I saw Thomas’s hands around your neck, I thought I would have to see you die in front of me, and I knew I would never—” He stopped, trying to control the pain slicing through his chest.

“It was the same for me at the joust. My heart almost stopped beating when I saw you tumble to the ground. For a dreadful moment, I thought you’d died, and I couldn’t bear it.” A sob escaped her lips, and she nestled closer to his chest.

“Hush, sweet. I didn’t die. It’s all right.”

“Thank God you came to the tourney,” she said, clinging to him. “If you had not, we would never have known the truth. We would still think we had betrayed one another.”

Yes. But was it better that way? They both knew they wanted to be together but they could not be. It was perhaps even crueler.

Sian seemed to realize it as well because he felt her grow still. “Just … hold me.”

Yes, always , he almost said.

But they would have only ever that one night.

Despite their intention to make the most of the moment, it was not long before they were both asleep.