Why, Katherine, does he do this?”
She lifted her eyes to his, her declaration not one many would believe of any other man than this King of theirs.
He focused on her with gimlet eyes. “Tell me.”
She owed him the awful truth. “John came on a progression through the South West last year as he has come nearly every time he has inspected the fortifications of the Welsh Marches. He had been tracking William de Braose and his wife Maud to no avail. He was wild, raving and always in his cups. I fed him and his men, and politely asked him to move on. He laughed at me.” She wrung her hands.
“Aye. And?”
She winced at the memory of John barging into her bedchamber, uninvited, full of wine and brash words. “I was a new widow.”
Geoffrey stilled.
She stiffened her lower lip. “Over the years, he had hoped to lure me to his bed. Last year, with no husband to deter him, he assumed he could pursue me more freely. He has the habits of a rabid dog.”
Not even a breath passed through Geoffrey’s frame. He narrowed his eyes on her, but saw, she was certain, only red.
“I refused.”
“As well any right-minded woman would.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. “I did not think he was so mad as to want a woman who would not have him. He has a wife. A comely one. An eager one!”
“And mistresses.”
She nodded, forlorn.
Geoffrey sent one hand over her back as the other drifted to her nape. Pressing her into his warm strength, he held her close and dear. She could feel him flex his jaw and tense his shoulders. “He takes as he wishes and expects us all to look the other way.”
She stroked her fingers up his throat. He was stronger, more tender and noble than she had credited. She cupped his cheek. “I fear for you.”
“Do you, my darling?” Geoffrey grinned at her. “Good to know. But you do no good to fret. I have made my choice in this matter.”
“I must free you from the service, Geoffrey.”
“You cannot.”
“I declare it.”
He caught her chin, his features rigid. “Katherine, I have taken you from John. His greed. His lust. And I will not give you back. My friends out there on that field believe with me that I am right. And more arrive by the day. Come let me love you while we wait.”
His tender declaration was more than she could bear. She worked at words.
He had no more. Only a sorrowing look into her eyes, a low moan of despair, then with a stark curse, he hauled her up into his arms and kissed her.
His lips crushed her own. The force of his possession knocked all else from her mind save his claim upon her. He broke the force of it and took her again, this time with a tenderness that took her breath. She flung her arms around his wide shoulders, sank her fingers into his long silken curls and gasped with the pleasure he so liberally dispensed. He anchored her neck and drove his tongue inside her mouth to sweep and seize and devastate. Willing and wanton, she gave as good as she got, plunging her own tongue into his sweet mouth, duelling with her desire to end this or surrender.
He kneaded her spine, rucked up her gown and stroked her naked derrière. Teasing the cleft, he growled and angled her so that he could insinuate his hand between them and sink his fingers into her cunny hair. She undulated, urging him on, and for her reward, she felt him find the crease of her swollen wet cunt and stroke her sweetly, softly there. She hung in his arms and let him have her. She let him caress her and possess her clit. She let him use her and persuade her as he uttered nonsense while he kissed her once more and again. She mewled and he pulled away, swept the garment away and dropped it to the floor, only to catch her up in his arms and carry her to her bed.
He sat her down, hovering over her as his gaze took in her nakedness. Sinking to his knees, he took one of her breasts into each hand and thumbed the nipples. They pebbled and she thrust forward.
“Nibble me.
She lifted her eyes to his, her declaration not one many would believe of any other man than this King of theirs.
He focused on her with gimlet eyes. “Tell me.”
She owed him the awful truth. “John came on a progression through the South West last year as he has come nearly every time he has inspected the fortifications of the Welsh Marches. He had been tracking William de Braose and his wife Maud to no avail. He was wild, raving and always in his cups. I fed him and his men, and politely asked him to move on. He laughed at me.” She wrung her hands.
“Aye. And?”
She winced at the memory of John barging into her bedchamber, uninvited, full of wine and brash words. “I was a new widow.”
Geoffrey stilled.
She stiffened her lower lip. “Over the years, he had hoped to lure me to his bed. Last year, with no husband to deter him, he assumed he could pursue me more freely. He has the habits of a rabid dog.”
Not even a breath passed through Geoffrey’s frame. He narrowed his eyes on her, but saw, she was certain, only red.
“I refused.”
“As well any right-minded woman would.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. “I did not think he was so mad as to want a woman who would not have him. He has a wife. A comely one. An eager one!”
“And mistresses.”
She nodded, forlorn.
Geoffrey sent one hand over her back as the other drifted to her nape. Pressing her into his warm strength, he held her close and dear. She could feel him flex his jaw and tense his shoulders. “He takes as he wishes and expects us all to look the other way.”
She stroked her fingers up his throat. He was stronger, more tender and noble than she had credited. She cupped his cheek. “I fear for you.”
“Do you, my darling?” Geoffrey grinned at her. “Good to know. But you do no good to fret. I have made my choice in this matter.”
“I must free you from the service, Geoffrey.”
“You cannot.”
“I declare it.”
He caught her chin, his features rigid. “Katherine, I have taken you from John. His greed. His lust. And I will not give you back. My friends out there on that field believe with me that I am right. And more arrive by the day. Come let me love you while we wait.”
His tender declaration was more than she could bear. She worked at words.
He had no more. Only a sorrowing look into her eyes, a low moan of despair, then with a stark curse, he hauled her up into his arms and kissed her.
His lips crushed her own. The force of his possession knocked all else from her mind save his claim upon her. He broke the force of it and took her again, this time with a tenderness that took her breath. She flung her arms around his wide shoulders, sank her fingers into his long silken curls and gasped with the pleasure he so liberally dispensed. He anchored her neck and drove his tongue inside her mouth to sweep and seize and devastate. Willing and wanton, she gave as good as she got, plunging her own tongue into his sweet mouth, duelling with her desire to end this or surrender.
He kneaded her spine, rucked up her gown and stroked her naked derrière. Teasing the cleft, he growled and angled her so that he could insinuate his hand between them and sink his fingers into her cunny hair. She undulated, urging him on, and for her reward, she felt him find the crease of her swollen wet cunt and stroke her sweetly, softly there. She hung in his arms and let him have her. She let him caress her and possess her clit. She let him use her and persuade her as he uttered nonsense while he kissed her once more and again. She mewled and he pulled away, swept the garment away and dropped it to the floor, only to catch her up in his arms and carry her to her bed.
He sat her down, hovering over her as his gaze took in her nakedness. Sinking to his knees, he took one of her breasts into each hand and thumbed the nipples. They pebbled and she thrust forward.
“Nibble me.
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