maiden's look, to be sure. "My fire. My wife."
"Aye, mayhap, for now," she said, her breath warm on his hands, her eyes sliding into chilly repose.
"Now is all we have, Elsbeth. The Lord does not promise more. Our future is in His keeping. What can we do but obey in each moment of life He grants us? What more than that?"
"Nothing more," she said. "You speak the truth. There is only now."
He could read her well. Only now when she was in flux and he could not touch her. Or so she thought. There was much a man could do to a woman that would leave her maidenhead intact yet pierce and claim her heart. And he was just such a man to perform just such a claiming.
"Come then, little wife, and let us claim our now together. The bed awaits. The fire is high, the blankets deep. Let us avail ourselves of all."
She said no more, but meekly followed where he led. He led her to the bed and lifted her onto it. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and watched him with wide and careful eyes. She was wise to be careful, for her life was on the brink of change.
* * *
She had to be careful, for some change was upon him. Gone was the gentle man of easy smiles and in his place a warrior with his battle before him. She knew well that she was to be his battle plain. A man could be counted on for certain things, and claiming a woman by laying his mark upon her was the surest yet.
He would not breach her maidenhead, but he would lay hands upon her, that she knew. His eyes betrayed all. And his manhood, high and hard and pulsing with intent. Aye, she knew what he would do if God had not taken the chance away from him. But what he would do while he waited for the days to pass she did not know. She only knew she was embattled and that her foe used his beauty as a weapon.
His beauty was formidable, and she knew enough of men to understand that he realized it. All men knew their weapons and kept them well honed. Even men from Jerusalem were only men, after all. Yet had her mother not warned her of this? Had she not said that sin entered through the eyes, consuming the soul? Elsbeth kept her eyes lowered in defense.
If the fire would die or the taper flicker out, her cause would be helped, but with his aversion to cold and dark, she did not see much hope. She closed her eyes, creating her own dark world.
It did not help much. She could feel his nearness and his heat as he slid into the bed. And then she felt his hands—nay, his fingertips—trailing down the center of her chest, between her breasts.
She drew a shaky breath and kept to her private darkness, ignoring the tremors he unleashed.
"The cross looks well on you," he said, touching it with his fingertips. "You have warmed it. It carries your heat, Elsbeth, and glows in the firelight."
She said nothing. All her effort was on breathing and keeping her eyes shut against him. The firelight would show the golden glow of his skin and hair. She did not seek out such an assault on her senses. Her battle plan was prudent and one of defense, her only recourse. Still, it would serve. It must.
"You hide from me, Elsbeth," he said, his tone amused.
"I am here. I do not hide," she said, pressing her lips together in irritation.
Ever and always the laughter was at her expense. Would that, just once, a man could feel the bite of her humor when it was aimed at him. It would be a gift indeed if she were able to attack. But she was a woman; that way was not open to her, not if she wanted to win her freedom from him. He held the key to all, and so she must fight softly, inching her way free. A bold attack would serve her ill.
"Nay, you do not hide. Only your sight is hidden. Or is it the sight of me you wish to hide from?" he said, releasing the cross and touching a finger to the hollow of her throat.
"I do not hide, my lord," she said. "I am but weary. The day has been long."
"Aye, a full day we have had between us. But the night will be longer still," he murmured.
His touch was light, a whisper
"Aye, mayhap, for now," she said, her breath warm on his hands, her eyes sliding into chilly repose.
"Now is all we have, Elsbeth. The Lord does not promise more. Our future is in His keeping. What can we do but obey in each moment of life He grants us? What more than that?"
"Nothing more," she said. "You speak the truth. There is only now."
He could read her well. Only now when she was in flux and he could not touch her. Or so she thought. There was much a man could do to a woman that would leave her maidenhead intact yet pierce and claim her heart. And he was just such a man to perform just such a claiming.
"Come then, little wife, and let us claim our now together. The bed awaits. The fire is high, the blankets deep. Let us avail ourselves of all."
She said no more, but meekly followed where he led. He led her to the bed and lifted her onto it. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and watched him with wide and careful eyes. She was wise to be careful, for her life was on the brink of change.
* * *
She had to be careful, for some change was upon him. Gone was the gentle man of easy smiles and in his place a warrior with his battle before him. She knew well that she was to be his battle plain. A man could be counted on for certain things, and claiming a woman by laying his mark upon her was the surest yet.
He would not breach her maidenhead, but he would lay hands upon her, that she knew. His eyes betrayed all. And his manhood, high and hard and pulsing with intent. Aye, she knew what he would do if God had not taken the chance away from him. But what he would do while he waited for the days to pass she did not know. She only knew she was embattled and that her foe used his beauty as a weapon.
His beauty was formidable, and she knew enough of men to understand that he realized it. All men knew their weapons and kept them well honed. Even men from Jerusalem were only men, after all. Yet had her mother not warned her of this? Had she not said that sin entered through the eyes, consuming the soul? Elsbeth kept her eyes lowered in defense.
If the fire would die or the taper flicker out, her cause would be helped, but with his aversion to cold and dark, she did not see much hope. She closed her eyes, creating her own dark world.
It did not help much. She could feel his nearness and his heat as he slid into the bed. And then she felt his hands—nay, his fingertips—trailing down the center of her chest, between her breasts.
She drew a shaky breath and kept to her private darkness, ignoring the tremors he unleashed.
"The cross looks well on you," he said, touching it with his fingertips. "You have warmed it. It carries your heat, Elsbeth, and glows in the firelight."
She said nothing. All her effort was on breathing and keeping her eyes shut against him. The firelight would show the golden glow of his skin and hair. She did not seek out such an assault on her senses. Her battle plan was prudent and one of defense, her only recourse. Still, it would serve. It must.
"You hide from me, Elsbeth," he said, his tone amused.
"I am here. I do not hide," she said, pressing her lips together in irritation.
Ever and always the laughter was at her expense. Would that, just once, a man could feel the bite of her humor when it was aimed at him. It would be a gift indeed if she were able to attack. But she was a woman; that way was not open to her, not if she wanted to win her freedom from him. He held the key to all, and so she must fight softly, inching her way free. A bold attack would serve her ill.
"Nay, you do not hide. Only your sight is hidden. Or is it the sight of me you wish to hide from?" he said, releasing the cross and touching a finger to the hollow of her throat.
"I do not hide, my lord," she said. "I am but weary. The day has been long."
"Aye, a full day we have had between us. But the night will be longer still," he murmured.
His touch was light, a whisper
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