The Ranger (37 page)

He held her gaze the entire time, giving her silent encouragement, as he sank a little deeper. Inch by excruciating inch.

The sensation of her body wrapped tightly around his cock was nearly too much. He had to fight against the urge to thrust, knowing how good it would feel. The tight, wet heat gripping him. Milking him. Every muscle in his body was rigid with tension as he tried to hold back, as he tried to go slow. It felt so good.

But he would make it perfect for her, damn it.

Almost ...

There
. The point of no return. Looking deep into her eyes, he felt his chest contract and gave the final push.

She gasped, and her eyes widened with pain, but she didn’t cry out. The stoic look on her face gave him the perverse urge to smile. “It will get better, my love, I promise. Try to relax.”

She shot him a look as if he were crazy. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

But then he kissed her and proved that she was wrong.

Anna felt a sharp pinch as he entered her and wanted to cry out in pain. But she could see him struggling and bit it back, knowing how badly he was trying not to hurt her. It wasn’t his fault God had made him so ... oversized. It must make things terribly uncomfortable—

Wait
. He was distracting her with his kiss, but she thought she’d felt ...

There it was again. A twinge. A twinge that felt nice.
Very
nice. In fact, it felt amazing. Her body had softened around him and the pain had subsided. Now she could feel him. Hot and hard, filling her in a way that she’d never imagined.

And then he started to move. Slowly at first. Sinking in and out in long, smooth strokes.

She gasped as each thrust reverberated through her body. It felt as though he were claiming her. Possessing her in the most primitive way possible.

It felt incredible. She had to move with him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper. Harder. Then faster.

She clutched his shoulders, drawing him closer. Wanting to feel his weight on top of her. Their bodies seemed fused together. Skin to skin. It was so hot. Her body so achingly heavy.

Passion gripped her in its shimmery hold. Sensations fired inside her. Building. Coiling. Concentrating in that most feminine part of her. He felt it, too. He was like steel under her fingertips, his muscles tense and flared, ready to explode.

But it was the look in his eyes that sent her over the edge. Intense. Penetrating. Dark with not just desire but also with emotion. Reflected in those golden-amber depths, she saw the love that burned in her own heart.

He loved her. He might not realize it yet, but she did.

He held her to him, not letting her turn away as he thrust into her again, burying himself as deep as he could go, and held her there.

Something powerful and magical passed between them. A connection unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

Her breath caught high in her chest as sensation took hold. For one moment everything seemed to stop. Her body held at the very peak of ecstasy, balanced on the heavenly precipice.

She let out a sharp cry as the first spasm of release sent her careening over, shattering into mindless oblivion.

“That’s it, love, come for me.” He started to move again, pounding into her with fierce abandon. “Oh God. You feel so good. I can’t ...”

With a deep groan of satisfaction that seemed ripped from his soul, he drove into her one last time. His body stiffened, then shuddered as his release caught the tiding wave of her own. His face was fierce and beautiful, primitive in its passion.

When the last sensation had flickered to an end, he collapsed on top of her, their bodies still joined. All she could hear was the heavy sound of their breathing and the fierce pounding of their hearts.

She wished she could stay like this forever, but too soon he rolled off her, breaking the connection.

Cool air swept over her flushed, damp skin, making it prickle with gooseflesh. She was conscious of her nakedness but too spent to move. Her limbs were like jelly. But she had no cause for embarrassment; Arthur wasn’t looking at her.

He stared up at the ceiling, still breathing unevenly but ominously quiet.

Shouldn’t he be saying something?

She bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking. It had seemed wonderful to her, but what if—she felt a pang—she’d disappointed him?

At last he turned his head to the side to look at her. Lifting his hand to her face, he gently swept the hair back from her face. Seeing her uncertainty, he smiled—a lopsided, boyish smile that wrapped right around her heart and would never let go. She knew she would never forget how he looked at this moment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never ... I’ve never felt anything like that.”

She beamed back at him, unable to hide her joy. “Really? I didn’t have anything to compare it with, but I thought it was wonderful.”

“Aye, it was.” He bent down and gave her a tender kiss. But when he lifted his head to look at her again, his gaze had clouded. “I’ll never regret what just happened, Anna, but for your sake I wish it hadn’t.”

Anna felt a flicker of unease, hearing the unmistakable air of warning, but she pushed it aside, refusing to let anything cloud the moment.

Instinctively, she tucked herself against him, nestling under his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad it did,” she said.

Now they were bound together and nothing could break them apart.

Arthur gazed down at the tiny, naked woman snuggled in his arms and felt his heart catch. What they’d just shared had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d had more than his fair share of women, but swiving for him had always been about sating lust. He’d see to a woman’s pleasure and she would see to his with one goal in mind—release. Once accomplished, that was the end of it. He didn’t linger. And he sure as hell didn’t want to hold her in his arms and wish that they could stay like this forever.

Compared to what had just happened with Anna, what had come before seemed almost mechanical—as if he’d just been going through the motions to get the prize.

But with Anna, the prize had been the experience itself. The pleasure was in the exploration, in the discovery, and in the details. It was in the way she responded to his touch—the arch of her back, the press of her hips, and the little sounds that came from her lips. It was the look in her eyes when he slid into her, the flush that spread over her cheeks as she neared her release, and the way her head fell back and lips parted when she finally found it.

He hadn’t been able to look away. He usually avoided eye contact, but with Anna he’d sought the connection. He wanted the closeness.

He rested his cheek on the top of her head, savoring the silky softness of her hair. She was so sweet and beautiful. And so damned trusting. A fierce swell of protectiveness rose inside him. And something else. Something warm and tender and powerful. Something he’d never thought was meant for him.

He’d thought himself different. That he didn’t need anyone. That he was happy being alone. But he’d been fooling himself. He wasn’t different at all. He needed her. Wanted her. Loved her with a ferocity that surprised him.

Maybe he could find a way to explain. To beg her forgiveness. Maybe there was hope ...

Ah hell
. A knot fisted in his gut as he pulled himself back to reality. Who was he fooling? She would never forgive him. How could she, when he was here to destroy all that she held dear?

He loved her, but it didn’t change a damned thing. It would only make what was to come more painful. When he finished what he’d come to do, there would be no chance for them.

He loved her, but his loyalty was to Bruce. He had a mission to complete, not only for the king but for his father.

In a different time—in a place uncomplicated by war and feuds—they might have a chance. But not here. Not today.

Yet he wished ...

God, how he wished it were different.

She peeked up at him from under her lashes. “I’m sure we aren’t the first betrothed couple to anticipate the wedding night.”

The stab of guilt deepened. That was the problem: There would be no wedding night. Not when she discovered the truth. He was an arse. A dishonorable arse. What could he have been thinking?

He knew exactly what he’d been thinking. That he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and that he’d do anything to hold on to her. Consciously or unconsciously, he’d wanted to bind her to him in a way that could not be undone. Not even by deceit and betrayal.

It was desperate. It was selfish. It was wrong. It would only serve to give her more cause to hate him. But it was done, and he could not change it even if he wanted to.

“Nay,” he said. “Not the first, but under the circumstances we should have waited.” He drew her against him, his voice as fierce as his hold. He was a selfish bastard, but he swore when this damned battle was over he’d give her a choice. He would fight for her—for them—if she would let him. “I will come back to you, Anna. If you want me, I will come back.”

She smiled up at him, so guileless and innocent. So trusting. “Of course I want you. Nothing will ever change that.”

He wanted to believe her. More than anything in the world, he wanted to believe her. But her words would soon be put to the test.

“What’s wrong with you, Anna? You seem unusually quiet this morning. Did you not sleep well?”

Anna gave her sister a sharp glance, wondering if Mary suspected something. It was hard to tell. Her sister wore a serene expression on her face, one befitting the morning’s sermon that they’d just heard.

Anna had no idea what it had been about. She’d been too busy playing back every second of what had happened last night. She was sure there was something horribly sinful about thinking of such things in a chapel, but Anna had so much to do penance for already, she figured the added damage to her soul was incremental.

She smiled as the memories returned. No doubt it was even more of a sin to be so happy about sinning, but she
was
happy. She loved Arthur, and he loved her. Last night had proved it.

She hadn’t returned to the chamber she shared with her sisters until very late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. She’d stayed curled up in his arms for as long as she’d dared, but eventually she’d been forced to return to her room.

The hours she’d spent in his arms had been some of the most contented of her life. In the protective bower of his embrace, the war, the chaos and the uncertainty of the world right now, didn’t exist.

In the cold light of day, however, it all came back.

Today was the twelfth day of August. Three days before the truce ended.

It was the war that was troubling her, she told herself. If Arthur had seemed unusually pensive or if his words had held the edge of warning, she told herself it must be the war. With what was to come in the next few days, the loss of her virginity before the wedding should be the least of her worries.

But why had he talked about not coming back?

She had to stop this. “There’s nothing wrong,” Anna said firmly. “I slept well.” Like the dead actually, for the four hours or so of sleep that she’d gotten.

“It must have been quite a book.”

This time there was no mistaking the dry tone in Mary’s voice.

“It was,” Anna assured her, unable to hide her blush. Though she often read late in one of the mural chambers to avoid disturbing her sisters, Mary obviously had guessed the truth.

They were following a little behind the rest of her family as they crossed the courtyard from the chapel to the Great Hall, where they would break their fast. Most of the men, however, were already out in the yard practicing. The clang of swords and cacophony of voices grew louder as they drew near. Reflexively, she scanned the mail-clad forms looking for ...

There
. Her heart lurched just to see him. Arthur stood on the other side of the stables with his back toward her. It was near the place where they had the straw buttes set up, so she figured he must be practicing with his spear.

His brother Dugald stood nearby. Unlike Arthur, however, Sir Dugald wasn’t alone. He was tossing a short spear back and forth, spinning it in the air, with three pretty young serving maids looking at him as if he were a magician, hanging on his every word.

One of the girls was standing in front of him, and he was attempting to show her how to catch the spear, but her immense breasts were getting in the way of his arms.

The two brothers couldn’t be more different. Dugald was a loud braggart, the kind of man who wasn’t happy unless he was the center of attention and surrounded by as many women as he could hold. Arthur was quieter. More solid. A man content to stay in the background.

Mary rolled her eyes at the display and turned away, climbing the stairs into the Hall. Anna raced up after her, glancing over her shoulder one more time.

Sir Dugald laughed at something one of the girls said. Anna couldn’t hear his reply, but she swore it looked as if he’d said, “Watch this.”

He lifted the spear in his hand as if to throw it, shouting to Arthur at the same time. “Arthur, catch!”

Before Anna realized what he was going to do—before the scream could rise from her throat—the spear was spinning in the air, hurled right at Arthur.

They were standing so close together, Arthur barely had time to turn at the sound of Dugald’s voice before the spear was on him. At the last second, he snatched it out of the air with one hand. In one fluid motion, he brought it down across his knee, snapped it, and tossed the pieces back at his brother, his face dark with rage.

A memory pricked.

An icy breeze washed over her skin. She’d seen something like that only once before.

The blood drained from her face. Anna covered her gasp with her hand and sank back against the wall of the entry, her heart pounding in her throat.

It was just like that night in Ayr. The night she’d been sent to fetch the silver for her father and walked into a trap. The knight who’d rescued her had done the same thing.