her mouth and kissing him back with a passion he hadn’t expected. He felt a tiny shiver race through her body and knew it was not the cold. Nevertheless, he slipped his mantle over her shoulders, pulling her closer and into his arms. She was small and delicate and he sighed, sliding his hands down her waist and over her hips.
At last—though it seemed like hours, it was a mere few seconds—Dirick regained his senses and pulled away quite suddenly. His breath was coming in faster, whiter puffs now and he forced himself to set her away from him. He was heavy and hard with arousal, and when she looked up at him with glazed hazel eyes and swollen pink lips, he nearly reached for her again.
Instead, he pulled away from the temptation, resting his hand against the smooth bark of a birch tree as if to keep it from doing any further damage. “My lady,” he said, trying to speak coherently when all he wanted to do was pull her to him again, “that was unforgivable. I hope you will find it in your heart to allow my escort back to the keep. I’ll return you to your father’s care and you need not be bothered by my presence again.”
“ Nay, Sir Dirick,” she said, struggling to her feet with a dazed look on her face. “Have no worries that I’ll bring tales to my papa,” she said, brushing two fingers lightly over her full mouth. “I allowed you leave to kiss me only to have some questions of my own answered.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, ignoring the throbbing between his legs and trying to act as cool as she. “And did you have your questions answered?” he replied.
“ Aye,” she breathed, still touching her mouth unconsciously, “aye, that I did.”
CHAPTER SIX
At dinner that evening, Maris avoided looking at Sir Dirick.
He sat on the far side of Merle, sharing a trencher with Lady Allegra. The two men, seated next to each other, were engrossed in conversation regarding the latest news that had come in from Westminster—the king’s call to arms for his battle to subdue Geoffrey of Anjou.
Though he sat away from her, and she couldn’t see him unless she leaned around her father, Maris was as aware of Dirick’s presence as if he’d brushed against her. His hands, serving Allegra and himself, moved in and out of her view, and she found herself watching them, noticing their tanness, the short, clean fingernails, the molding of muscle and tendon and sprinkling of dark hair, the way the sleeve of his tunic fell back to expose a narrow, tanned wrist.
She heard him laugh—a low, masculine, husky laugh that heightened her awareness of him. His conversation carried over the noise of the meal, collecting in her consciousness, as close to her as if he whispered in her ear. The cadence of his voice, rising and falling as he alternately admired and charmed Allegra, and debated and argued with Merle, was soothing and exciting and haunting.
A simple kiss…a simple kiss had made her as aware of him as she’d become aware of herself.
Even now, her fingers trembled when she remembered the heat, the shock of pleasure that took her by surprise and made her body come alive. Warm, demanding lips and the hard strength of his body were enough to steal her breathing and pool desire into the center of her being.
Even now, she felt the stirring of desire, the flutter of arousal in her middle.
The memory of his lips still burned on her mouth as she sipped from her wine. She wanted to taste him again. She wanted to know if the kiss they had shared could be duplicated, if it would be the same charge of energy should it happen again.
Casting a covert look in his direction, she saw him leaning flirtatiously toward her mother, a smirk curling his mouth, and realized suddenly, with a cold shock, that he was most likely well accustomed to kissing maidens in the wood. That knowledge settled in her middle like a large chunk of bread and she turned away to sip from
At last—though it seemed like hours, it was a mere few seconds—Dirick regained his senses and pulled away quite suddenly. His breath was coming in faster, whiter puffs now and he forced himself to set her away from him. He was heavy and hard with arousal, and when she looked up at him with glazed hazel eyes and swollen pink lips, he nearly reached for her again.
Instead, he pulled away from the temptation, resting his hand against the smooth bark of a birch tree as if to keep it from doing any further damage. “My lady,” he said, trying to speak coherently when all he wanted to do was pull her to him again, “that was unforgivable. I hope you will find it in your heart to allow my escort back to the keep. I’ll return you to your father’s care and you need not be bothered by my presence again.”
“ Nay, Sir Dirick,” she said, struggling to her feet with a dazed look on her face. “Have no worries that I’ll bring tales to my papa,” she said, brushing two fingers lightly over her full mouth. “I allowed you leave to kiss me only to have some questions of my own answered.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, ignoring the throbbing between his legs and trying to act as cool as she. “And did you have your questions answered?” he replied.
“ Aye,” she breathed, still touching her mouth unconsciously, “aye, that I did.”
CHAPTER SIX
At dinner that evening, Maris avoided looking at Sir Dirick.
He sat on the far side of Merle, sharing a trencher with Lady Allegra. The two men, seated next to each other, were engrossed in conversation regarding the latest news that had come in from Westminster—the king’s call to arms for his battle to subdue Geoffrey of Anjou.
Though he sat away from her, and she couldn’t see him unless she leaned around her father, Maris was as aware of Dirick’s presence as if he’d brushed against her. His hands, serving Allegra and himself, moved in and out of her view, and she found herself watching them, noticing their tanness, the short, clean fingernails, the molding of muscle and tendon and sprinkling of dark hair, the way the sleeve of his tunic fell back to expose a narrow, tanned wrist.
She heard him laugh—a low, masculine, husky laugh that heightened her awareness of him. His conversation carried over the noise of the meal, collecting in her consciousness, as close to her as if he whispered in her ear. The cadence of his voice, rising and falling as he alternately admired and charmed Allegra, and debated and argued with Merle, was soothing and exciting and haunting.
A simple kiss…a simple kiss had made her as aware of him as she’d become aware of herself.
Even now, her fingers trembled when she remembered the heat, the shock of pleasure that took her by surprise and made her body come alive. Warm, demanding lips and the hard strength of his body were enough to steal her breathing and pool desire into the center of her being.
Even now, she felt the stirring of desire, the flutter of arousal in her middle.
The memory of his lips still burned on her mouth as she sipped from her wine. She wanted to taste him again. She wanted to know if the kiss they had shared could be duplicated, if it would be the same charge of energy should it happen again.
Casting a covert look in his direction, she saw him leaning flirtatiously toward her mother, a smirk curling his mouth, and realized suddenly, with a cold shock, that he was most likely well accustomed to kissing maidens in the wood. That knowledge settled in her middle like a large chunk of bread and she turned away to sip from
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