His Captive Princess by Sandra Jones Page B

tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he was nearly lost. “I should be honest, my lord. I may be a widow, but I’m not very familiar…that is to say, I’m not as practiced as you might—”
    “Shhh.” He put a finger to her mouth when her gaze avoided his. He smiled. “I suspect I’ll enjoy creating new experiences with you. Let’s leave the past outside your door. In here, there’s only you and me, n’est-ce pas ?”
    She nodded, lifting her chin a notch higher as she met his gaze. His chest tightened with respect.
    Mayhap Stephen had thought he’d been playing a terrible trick on his cousin and rival for the throne by sending him here to claim his so-called willing bride, but in fact, there was surely no other woman who could arouse Warren with such fervor as the fiery shield maiden.
    “Put down your blanket, Eleri, and remove your clothing,” he said, his voice gone hoarse. “I want to see you.”
    After another nod, she tossed the blanket on the bed. Her hands made fists in the sides of her gown, then she pulled it over her head to drop on the ground between them.
    Her flesh was pure alabaster with the exception of her chest, which was a rosy shade of pink beneath his scrutiny. Her breasts were as perfect as he’d imagined when he’d explored them with his hands earlier. Heavy yet pert. The nipples stood in hardened buds, ripe berries he wished to lick and suckle. Every inch of her was extraordinary.
    With light fingertips, he traced the sway of her narrow waist down the feminine curve of her hip—smooth, supple skin that converged in a triangle at the juncture of her thighs where a small vee of gilt-red curls brought life to his fantasies.
    How could he put into words how much he appreciated her beauty when his brain had relocated to his groin? He managed to murmur, “ Ma cœur. ”
    Her hip cocked, and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, which pushed them closer beneath his view. “Should you not disrobe as well, milord?”
    Eleri scowled at herself, hurrying to the sanctuary of the bed while Warren removed his tunic. He probably didn’t like what he saw, the same as Owain hadn’t.
    Merlin’s beard! You said you wouldn’t think of anyone else!
    She really must keep her word and think only about the two of them.
    Diving under the blankets, she quickly covered her nakedness in case her looks disappointed him. Yet when Warren removed his boots and slid his trousers off, revealing long, chiseled legs and his thick staff, she immediately forgot everyone except Warren.
    Her throat tightened as he drew near, his imposing, naked form looming before her. Broad shouldered, narrow hipped and carved into hard angles with corded muscles, he made her pine for more of his kisses and tender caresses that always seemed to put her at ease. In his arms she’d finally found the enjoyment and passion she’d been missing.
    Reaching her, Warren knelt and offered her his open hand. She clutched the blanket to her breasts and lightly put her fingertips against his callused palm. Locked in his smoldering stare, she watched as he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss against them.
    “Your Highness, your beauty is beyond compare.”
    Eleri rolled her eyes while flushing to her roots. “Must you tease me? I trow well enough that I look nothing like your women from England or Normandy.”
    His eyes crinkled at the corners as he rubbed his cheek against the back of her hand. “’Tis my good fortune you do not. You are unique, rare and utterly irresistible. But what about me, ma belle fée rouge? Would you sayI look nothing like your countrymen either?” Still holding her hand, he spread his arms wide for her scrutiny.
    Eleri laughed, barely catching her blanket as it dipped in the movement. “You know you do, thanks to me! At least for now.”
    A line appeared between his brows. “You prefer me this way? Mayhap my form isn’t to your liking.”
    She tugged teasingly on his hand when he looked