The Warrior's Forbidden Virgin (2 page)

Her hand moved to his tunic, which clung to his torso like a wet skin. “You should take this off.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though it meant nothing for him to bare his chest before her. But he hardly knew what he was doing here, much less what she wanted from him.

He knew exactly what he wanted from her. And nothing about it was honorable.

Right now, he wanted to peel away her wet clothing, to taste her cool flesh, kissing a path down to her breasts. His body ached to touch hers, to join with her in the most intimate of ways. Although he might not have experienced the warmth of a woman’s body, he’d heard stories from his brothers, and he’d kept the information, knowing that one day he would put it to use.

Damn it all, he wanted to lie with her, to possess her as only a husband should. And knowing that she would never choose a man like him, made it all the more difficult to keep his hands to himself.

“I shouldn’t be here with you,” Katherine said. “My father would have me beaten if he knew.”

And Nicholas of Ardennes would have the flesh flayed from Ademar’s own skin. It was worth it, he decided. Even though he’d have to let her go, he would always remember her kiss.

“I’ll leave,” he offered. “Or I can send a maid to you.”

Though he had moved toward the door, Katherine stepped in front of him, hindering his path. Her dark blue eyes studied him, as though she couldn’t quite make a decision. Her hands clasped, then unclasped before her fingers touched her lips. “I’ve never…done something like that before. Kissed a man for no reason.”

She rubbed her shoulders as if trying to ward off a chill. “I wanted you to know it. I was angry at my sister and Ewan, and I just…” Her explanation faded away.

Just what?
he wanted to ask. A thousand questions rose up, but he couldn’t speak a single word without feeling like a fool. Instead, he stood before her, the unbearable silence rising up like a shield.

She flushed. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Moving aside, Katherine gave him an open walkway to the door. She stared at the floor, as though she’d humiliated herself with the admission.

She was hurting right now. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself. He wanted to tell her that the kiss she’d bestowed had been an unexpected gift. That she was a woman worthy of being loved, even if he could never be the man she wanted.

Words. He needed words right now. But he was trapped in a maelstrom of tangled thoughts and useless phrases. If he opened his mouth, nothing would make sense.

She was leaning against the wall, gripping her arms as though despair had settled over her, and he spied a tear slipping from beneath her lashes.

Had he made her cry? Or was she dreaming of Ewan MacEgan, grieving for her loss?

Ademar moved in front of her, tilting her chin up to look at him. He slid his fingers into her hair, tossing aside the wet veil, and framing her face with his clumsy hands.

He kissed her. With his mouth, he tried to tell her that she was beautiful. He savored the taste of her lips, like sweet grapes.

She lifted her arms around him once more, and he opened his mouth, dipping his tongue into her depths the way he wanted to enter her body. She was trembling now, her skin prickling with goose flesh.

Without asking permission, he pulled her into his arms and brought her near the hearth. Turning her to face the flames, he lifted the wet gown away from her skin, trying to warm it. And her.

Katherine didn’t speak, but peeled away the wet bliaud and underdress. The layers fell away until she stood in her linen shift, barefoot. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing the outline of her neck, down her slender shoulders, to rest upon her waist. Her bottom rested against his hard length, and she deliberately pressed against him.

“This is sinful,” she whispered, holding his hands in hers. “But I don’t care. I want to be wicked right now.”

She drew his arms to cross over her breasts. He could feel the plump curves of them, and he tried to distract himself with kissing her nape.

Then she moved his palms to her nipples, and he grew even harder. He could barely breathe, he knew not what she was doing. He spread out his fingers, letting them splay over the large handful. Then he gently squeezed the flesh, and she gasped.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he didn’t know what to do. This was about her, about making her understand how much he cared. He experimented with his touch, gently caressing her as though she were made of silk. He learned the amount of pressure she liked, and when she leaned in, he rubbed his thumbs over the ridged tips, responding to her sighs of need.

But he wanted more.

Ademar turned her around and laid her down upon his bed. Gently, he lowered her shift to just beneath her breasts. Exposed to the air, he saw the lovely pink nipples, blooming beneath his touch. She tried to cover herself, but he bent low and took one into his mouth, warming it with his tongue.

Her breathing quickened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held his head to her breast, her fingers sliding into his hair. He gave the same heated kisses to her other breast, and no longer did he have a coherent thought in his head. He was driven by raw need, the desire to give her pleasure. And in her responses, in the flushed skin and throaty moans, he took his own fulfillment.

She moved her palms beneath his tunic, lifting it off until she traced the muscles of his chest. His heart was racing, but he cupped her heavy breasts, kissing her mouth again with a shaking need.

“We sh-should stop,” he muttered, hating the stammer that escaped him.

“Don’t.” While there was fear in her eyes, there was also the haze of undeniable passion. She explored him with her hands, touching his skin as though she couldn’t get enough. With her bare breasts pressed against his chest, she pulled him atop her until his erection was nestled between her thighs.

It was a prelude to something else, and the idea of breaching her virginity was unthinkable. This had gone too far already.

But then, she raised up her knees, and her shift fell away, baring her legs to him. “Make me forget about Ewan,” she pleaded.

The words stopped him cold, for he realized what this was truly about. She wanted to lose herself in a moment she would regret, come the dawn. Anger he hadn’t known he could feel suddenly raged.

What had he believed, that she would actually desire a man like him? That she could look past his speech and see the man beneath?

She was using him. It was never about wanting him or desiring him.

Was she pretending he was Ewan? Had she allowed the Irishman to touch her in this way? If he fulfilled her secret longings, would she cry out Ewan’s name?

A vicious jealousy tightened in his gut. Once, just once, he wanted a woman to desire him for himself. Not to be used as a pawn.

He almost pushed her away. But then, darkness claimed his sense of reason, for she was with him now, wasn’t she? He might not be the man she wanted, but she had turned to him during this time of hurting.

He leaned over her, stroking her damp hair with a tenderness he almost didn’t feel. “When I’ve finished with you, my lady, you won’t even remember his name.”

Katherine was well aware that she’d made him angry. There was a tension there, a sense that she’d struck an invisible wound.

When he kissed her again, there was a hard edge to the embrace. Ademar had become the man she’d seen fighting in the tournament, single-minded and ruthless. Though she’d known he was a purposeful man, she’d never felt that attention directed toward herself.

If his claim that she was the first woman he’d ever touched was true, then he possessed natural instincts. His roughened hands moved over her knees, sliding up her bared thighs. She was completely exposed to him, and second thoughts began to take apart her intentions.

When his mouth closed over her breast again, she lost the ability to breathe. He tasted her skin, swirling his tongue over her erect nipple. Blowing softly, he bit at the tip.

She cried out at the contact, and he soothed her skin with his mouth, seeming to understand that he’d been too rough. His large hands moved over her ribs, pressing kisses upon her skin until she shivered.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, dragging her gown lower until it tangled around her limbs. At last, he removed her shift until she was completely naked.

Cold reality swept over her as surely as his warm body covered hers. He was right. They needed to stop now, before she made an irrevocable mistake.

“Ademar,” she whispered, lifting his face to hers. With her thumbs, she traced the hardness of his mouth, trying to soften him.

His hand moved between her thighs, caressing the unexpected wetness. The touch was nothing she’d ever experienced before, and she forgot what she’d meant to say. While his mouth drifted downward, he explored her with his fingertips. Stroking her silken hair, sliding over her cleft, into the place where she would take a man. Physical frustration reared up, an aching need to be filled.

He slid a long finger into her depths, and her back arched with a sharp reflex. Katherine’s eyes flew open, and she stared into his intense gaze.

Ademar of Dolwyth, a knight who had never really caught her interest. Handsome, but awkward in speech, she’d hardly noticed him. He’d seemed so tentative.

There was nothing tentative about him now. He watched her as though he wanted to devour her. He caressed her until she was writhing beneath him, grasping the coverlet as though it would grant her the release she craved.

Her mind was shrieking for her to stop this madness, to force him to leave her. She had meant only for him to kiss her, not to become her lover.

But when his mouth lowered to the entrance of her body, she couldn’t stop the cries that escaped her. He licked her folds, teasing her mercilessly with bold strokes while she grasped his head. Ecstasy roared through her, so violent that tears escaped her eyes.

Ademar jerked her into his arms, holding her tight as the floodgates unleashed within her body. She hung onto him as though he was her haven in the midst of a storm.

When it was done, Ademar settled back to look at her, one hand resting upon her shoulder. He was still clothed from the waist down, damp from the rain. While she was utterly revealed to him. He shrank back from her, as though he’d crossed an invisible line.

What had she been thinking? Her anger had taken her past the brink of reason, until now she had nearly seduced a stranger. What man wanted a woman who threw herself at him?

“We have to stop,” she whispered.

He was still watching her, his hooded eyes giving away none of his thoughts.

Katherine pulled her shift back on, her cheeks flaming at her nudity. This act of rebellion had backfired, making her self-conscious about what she’d done. She had wanted to punish her sister, particularly since Honora had considered Ademar for a potential husband.

But instead, she’d flung herself into an uncertain future. Ademar was a man her father might ask her to wed. And right now, she couldn’t be certain if he was the one she wanted.

Ademar held the door open for Katherine. She was fully dressed, and from the composed expression on her face, it would seem that nothing had happened between them.

“You don’t have to escort me back,” she said, not looking at him.

As if he would allow her to walk alone, when it was long past midnight. Instead, he tightened his grip in what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. But as before, he couldn’t unravel his thoughts.

When they reached the single corridor leading to her chamber, he saw shadows ahead. He stopped her, keeping his hand poised upon his sword.

“Wait.”

Katherine obeyed, leaning up against the wall. He recognized the soldiers, and so did she.

“Those are John St. Leger’s men,” she whispered, her voice turning alarmed. “What are they doing outside my chamber at this hour?”

He didn’t like it either. John St. Leger was the new Baron of Ceredys and Honora’s older stepson. Ademar didn’t trust the man, and his dislike had only heightened during the last sennight.

“Honora fled Ceredys to get away from him,” Katherine confessed. “John wants her to return to the estate.”

“That isn’t all he wants,” Ademar said grimly. He’d seen the way the baron watched Honora, and though they were related through marriage, the man’s lust was evident.

Under the circumstances, Ademar didn’t like the thought of John’s men nearby, even if the soldiers had done nothing. He tried to gather the right words. “Do you want me to—that is, I could—if you wish it, I could guard your—”

Katherine covered his mouth with her hand, a faint smile upon her face. His posture went rigid, and he longed to cut out his stumbling tongue.

“I don’t need you to remain guard,” she murmured, so close to his face he could feel her cheek against his. “Send them away with a warning. That will be enough.”

He forced himself to slow down when he spoke. “It’s only…a few…hours until dawn. I’ll stay.”

Katherine stood upon her toes, her hands resting upon his shoulders. It tempted him to drag her forward and capture her lips once more. After the time they’d spent together this night, he felt himself standing upon unstable ground. In a matter of days, his future had been tossed like a handful of dice.

He wanted Katherine as his bride, now more than ever. But she was in love with another man, a man she couldn’t have. Even so, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Needing a distraction, he strode forward, glaring at the soldiers. He eyed each one of them, then drew his sword in a palpable threat. He spoke only a single word, but he made sure they heard the warning.

“Leave.”

“Our orders are to escort the Lady Honora—”

Ademar touched the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. Nicking the flesh, he repeated his command. The soldier backed away, his hands raised up in surrender. The rest of the men retreated without protest.

“Thank you,” Katherine said, touching her hand to the door. Ademar inclined his head, stepping back into the shadows. The flickering torchlight cast a golden glow against her skin. Although her clothes were dry and nothing appeared out of place, he saw the vulnerability on Katherine’s face. No doubt she was starting to form regrets.

“I won’t…tell anyone,” he managed.

“I know. You have too much honor.” A furtive smile edged her lips, before she added, “It was my fault. It won’t happen again.” Moments later, the door closed behind her.

Ademar positioned himself outside the chamber, wondering what he could possibly do to change her mind.

Katherine closed her eyes tightly against the morning sun. Last night she’d barely slept at all. Her thoughts had been tangled up in Ademar, in the way he’d touched her, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was in his arms. She had felt beloved.

By the Virgin, the man could kiss. She’d never known it, never expected it. Ewan had kissed her once, and although it had been unexpected and wonderful, it hadn’t shaken her world apart. Not the way Ademar’s kiss had. She hadn’t been driven to do desperate things, nor to cast aside her virtue. For truth be told, she had nearly given the stoic knight everything he’d wanted.

The very thought made her skin flush with discomfort. She shifted beneath the sheets, the fabric abrading her skin.

How could she face him later today? Though Ademar had claimed he would say nothing to anyone, she didn’t know if he would stay away from her.

Or if she would want him to.

What would it be like as his wife? He had earned his knighthood and was an earl’s son, albeit the second born. Certainly, he had land of his own and modest holdings. An accomplished fighter, he had the strength and means to protect an estate.

Blessed saints above. Why was she even thinking about Ademar in this way? She didn’t know him well enough. And…he wasn’t Ewan.

Katherine clenched the sheets, wishing she could rip out her feelings and let them go. She wanted to forget about MacEgan and her girlish infatuation. But it hurt to know that she wasn’t wanted. Her best efforts to be the perfect match for him had met with nothing but failure.

She heard Honora awaken and rise from the pallet on the floor. Though her sister had shared her room since returning to Ardennes, last night they had kept their distance from one another. Katherine had wanted to lash out at her sister, to strike her down and punish her. But it would not change the fact that Ewan loved Honora.

It would have been easier to hate her sister, if her sister had deliberately set out to take Ewan away from her. Instead, Honora had offered to give him up, to travel to Normandy to stay with their mother’s family.

“You won’t go to Normandy,” she’d told her sister. “Go with Ewan.”

“I can’t. Not after what I did to you—” Honora protested.

“This isn’t about me anymore. He told me he thinks of me like his sister.” Bitterness and rage flared up inside her. “Do you know how I felt? The man I fell in love with doesn’t want me at all.” Hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. “If I can’t have him, at least I can be sure that he’s happy without me.”

Katherine dried her tears, trying to gather up the shreds of her pride. “Go with him, Honora. And don’t return here again. I’ve no wish to see you.”

But that had been a lie. She’d always been close to her sister. As young girls, they had spent many nights talking long past midnight, sharing secrets in the dark. Honora had been her dearest friend. And while the betrayal had sliced her heart open, she didn’t truly want her sister to suffer.

The bleakness she felt wasn’t only from the loss of Ewan. It was from the loss of her sister.

With a brief glance, Katherine saw that Honora was red-eyed, her shoulders slumped forward in misery as she packed her belongings.

“I am sorry,” Honora whispered.

Katherine kept her eyes closed, not responding. Her sister’s apology was weighted with guilt. And though she wanted to say something, she couldn’t quite bring herself to bridge the distance. When she thought of Ewan and the way Honora had embraced him, silent tears burned her cheeks.

She was going to let herself grieve, and then she would let Ewan go. She would find her own happiness, somehow.

She thought of Ademar’s strong arms and the way she had felt safe within them. Right now, she wanted to rest her cheek against his chest, to breathe in his masculine scent and know that at least someone cared about her. It consoled her to think of him. He wouldn’t let her be alone.

Honora left their chamber, and Katherine sat up, needing to say something. She wanted to tell her sister that she hadn’t really meant the angry words. She didn’t want Honora to leave without at least trying to mend things between them.

Katherine pushed the coverlet aside and drew near to the door, fumbling to find the right words. An apology was the best start, she decided. And then…she would bid Honora a safe journey and happiness. It was the right thing to do, though she had no doubt the words would taste bitter upon her tongue.

The sounds of muffled voices caught her attention. Men’s voices, mingled with her sister’s. The arguing grew louder, and abruptly, her sister cried out for help, “Katherine!”

Her heart fearing the worst, Katherine threw open the door. Two men were dragging her sister away, while Sir Ademar fought off a third.

She tore down the hallway, racing after her sister. A moment later, Ademar ran toward John’s chamber with his sword drawn, but it was too late. The door closed in their faces, and she heard the unmistakable sound of someone lowering the heavy wooden bolt.

“You have to help Honora,” Katherine insisted, raising her fist to strike out at the door.

Ademar caught her wrist and gently pressed her up against the wall. “Go back, Katherine.”

“No. I won’t let John hurt her.”

“And neither will I. But look.” He stepped back, and Katherine realized she was still wearing her shift and nothing else. “You cannot confront him h-half clothed.”

He removed his cloak and gave it to her. Katherine wrapped herself in the garment, feeling the heat of his body through the wool.

“I’ll get your sister out. I promise you.”