By Design (8 page)

At least he had given her fair warning, but then, in all honesty, that look when she had emerged from the house had, too. She began to rise. “I must go now. The day is old and I have tarried too long.”

His fingers closed on her wrist, stopping her. “You do not have to run like a rabbit from a wolf.”

She nodded down at his grasp meaningfully. “Don't I?”

“I spoke of nothing we did not know already. Nor does this only come from me.”

“You are certainly a boldly confident man.”

“Confident enough. And not so bold, just experienced enough to know when I waste my time, and when I do not. Now sit. The day is half gone, and you are still sore. The tile yard will be there on the morrow.”

He held her until she sat, then released her. She picked
at the remnants of the cheese, and decided to be as frank as he. “Are you saying that I should stay until the morrow?”

“Aye.”

She nodded in resignation. “You expect repayment, then. So, Master Rhys, what price do you put on a bath and a bed and some ale and cheese?”

“I do not know. How much coin do you have?”

“None, and you know it.”

He smiled thoughtfully. “Ah. Then we must find another way.”

“Not the way that you want, trust me on that.”

“I was teasing you, Joan. You are a very suspicious woman.”

“Not too suspicious. Just not green.”

“You know in your heart that I expect nothing as payment. If I did, I would have tried to claim it by now. Last night when you did not leave my bed, or this morning while you lay naked in my arms.”

Speaking bluntly of that again provoked an alarming reaction in her. A little streak of physical warmth spiraled down from her heart. It felt a lot like the usual caution, but enticingly exciting.

“I was hoping that you would be good enough not to speak of that.”

“That would mean pretending it had not happened. I am not so good as that.”

“I did not seek your bed. Nor did I expect to share it with you.”

“You knew that I was there. You woke, and saw me.”

“I do not remember that. I must not have fully woken.” She lied baldly, not daring to admit she had permitted such a thing.

“Fully enough, but it is of no account. We both know that I want you, but I would not take you in payment even if you offered.”

She should have felt more relief, but the wanting sat between them now, like a ghost given substance by his honesty. Her heart beat rapidly in response to its presence. “What, then?”

He stroked his fingers into her hair until he held her head. He looked at her with a man's warmth. Not bold, but confident and experienced.

“I ask only for a kiss, and not in payment at all.”

C
HAPTER
5

“N
AY
?”
HE ASKED SOFTLY
.

She almost stopped him, because it would ruin everything. The memories of his kindness would die.

Maybe that would be for the best. It should destroy this stupid, girlish fluttering that filled her now. And it
would
be a payment of sorts. She could leave, not feeling that she owed him anything for his help.

“Aye. But only a small, short kiss.”

“We will stop whenever you like.”

She braced her whole being for the assault. And so the gentleness confused her even more. Just a warm touching of lips. A careful caress of his mouth on hers.

To her bewilderment, it didn't disgust her. It awoke a quivering tingling in her cheeks. He kept doing it, making that one kiss into a dozen touches and nips, and the sensation spread through her face and down her neck and began to descend further. He might have been teasing her lips with a feather.

He stopped. She glanced up at him, afraid of what she
would see in his eyes. Their expression astonished her. A brittle desire showed, but not feral hunger. Deep warmth softened his male interest, turning it to something that did not insult, but flattered.

They still sat apart, their angled bodies meeting over the space. He kissed her again.

Firmer. Harder. Not a request but a demand. The quivering sensation lowered like an inner flush, sliding down all of her. A flood of tingles swam inside her. Everywhere. In her head and her legs and her breasts. They pulsed quickly. Her utter astonishment left her helpless.

It was not supposed to be this way.

Rhys leaned back against the wall and eased her toward him. The pitched angle made her unsteady. Lightheadedness did, too. Her balance tottered. She fumbled to catch herself, and her palms landed on his chest.

Delicious heat flowed into her hands. Just enough to sooth, and make her skin sensitive to his skin and taut muscles. He was hard and soft and warm, all at the same time.

He kept her there, merely holding the back of her head. Only his outstretched arm supported her leaning body as she braced against his chest. He stopped the kiss and looked in her eyes. His deep gaze made her tremble even more than that kiss had.

“Don't you kiss back, Joan?”

She felt her face burn. “Nay.”

“Never?”

“Nay.” Her gaze lowered to where her browned hands splayed over his bronzed chest. Bits of moving sunlight danced over their skin. “I have never wanted to.”

His fingers gently snaked through the hair of her scalp. He lifted her chin with his other hand so that she had to look at his face again. His expression took her breath
away. Intense and knowing. Hard and soft and warm, just like his body. “That is not true. You want to now.”

Gentle pressure on her head. A strong arm guiding her. Not to his mouth. Lower, until her lips rested on his chest, above her palms.

The slight taste, the scent, made her thoughts blur. All of her senses filled with him. She did not really decide, it just happened. She kissed, and moved her lips and kissed again. A rich pleasure began beating through her like a rapid breath. She moved her hand and kissed again. His arm lowered to embrace her and his mouth pressed her hair. She sensed a tenseness rise in him, but it did not seem threatening. Her misgivings had been defeated, vanquished by the delicious physicality enlivening her body.

She impulsively kissed up the indentation in the center of his chest, to his collar, and then his neck. He held her to him, encouraging her. When she turned her face up, he was waiting.

Not gentle. She did not mind the passionate expression of his arousal. It only increased her own reactions to where they almost overwhelmed her. Something mad and yearning boiled in her. She had never been so aware of her own body, and its involuntary responses kept startling her.

Rhys moved her. It happened so neatly, so naturally, that she barely noticed until she was inclined across his lap, looking up at him, with her hips pressed against his thigh. Raising her shoulders with his arm, he kissed again. His calloused palm caressed her face, then wandered lower to her neck and arm.

Her body shrieked at his touch. Fear and visceral desire mixed together chaotically. She almost stopped him, as she should have long ago. But his mouth moved in nuzzling, biting ways on her neck and ear. A new intensity blocked everything from her mind except how good it felt.

His firm caress kept moving. Down her side, brushing
the side of her breast. Along her waist. Edging her hip and leg. The parts of her body near his hand stirred with shameless anticipation. She grasped his shoulder to steady her reeling senses. When he claimed her mouth again, she kissed back gladly, welcoming a way to release the craving that grew and grew.

He lifted her higher, until she almost sat. The kissing turned fevered and insistent—for her, too. Her own willingness, her wanting, mystified her. A physical compulsion had taken over, and it insisted on having its way. He controlled it with his arms and his kisses and the astonishing arousal of his hand.

He touched her face and thumbed her lips gently. “Open to me, Joan. If you do not, I will go mad here.”

Despite the dizzy sensuality, she hesitated. But a tantalizing caress along her hip and thigh, and the luring breath exciting her cheek, sent her spinning again. Trusting it would not be too horrible, she complied.

It wasn't horrible at all. It created a deep, startling intimacy. The connection left her shaking, and emotionally exposed.

Something changed in him, too, as though he sensed her vulnerability and had been waiting for it. He pressed her closer, until her breasts crushed his chest. He encompassed her hips with his other arm. The possessive embrace contained her with a gentle domination.

He deepened the kiss, pulling her higher. His embrace turned into caresses that moved freely, now claiming instead of seeking. Down her body, then up, teasing at the anticipation and making the desire anxious. His hand brushed her breast. His palm and fingers closed on her.

Incredible pleasure. Insistent and alive. It submerged any thoughts of refusal. He touched in ways that only made her want more. And more. And more. She could
barely think because of the power of that wanting. It took possession of her.

His fingers sought the gown's lacing. “I almost did not leave this morning when I woke to find you naked in my arms. I must have gazed at you an hour. I want to see you again now, awake and aware of me.” The loose neckline gaped, wide enough for him to slide it down her shoulder and expose her breast. The breeze tickled, and then his rough palm made the wanting still worse.

She hung around his neck, afraid to let go. He played at the tip of her breast until a frantic madness unhinged. She gasped again and again as it only got stronger.

He stopped their constant, hungry kissing and looked at her while he made the craving intense and aching. His expression made her heart skip, and then race.

“You have never wanted this before, either, have you? You are surprised. Not by my touch, but by the pleasure.”

She pressed her eyes against his shoulder to hide her embarrassment. Rhys already knew this part of her better than she did.

His head dipped. “Let us see how surprised I can make you.” His tongue flicked at her breast, tantalizing her with new excitements. She closed her eyes and tried to contain the delirium.

He would not let her. He used his mouth and teeth to push her beyond all control.

It almost happened. She almost drowned in it. Her body wanted to, and the rest of her had no voice. He beckoned her toward recklessness. The strong comfort of his arms and the knowing touch of his hands promised that the rest would be as wonderful as this.

She believed it. For awhile longer she abandoned herself to it. To him.

That caress again. Firm and possessive. Along her body, her stomach, her thighs. Reaching low and warming up
her bare leg. Higher, creating pulsing trembles that made her ache. Higher. Warm and confident and knowing. Higher, until her whole body rocked with yearning.

A touch. A gentle, masterful touch.

One heavenly moment of incredible pleasure absorbed her, and then the ecstasy crumbled. Her body and soul recoiled from the sensation in horror. The pleasure turned dangerous. Instantly, with devastating clarity, she knew that she had gone too far. He had lured her in deeper than her past would let her go.

She grasped his wrist and moved his hand away.

He froze, still holding her to him.

He touched her chin and made her look at him. “Why?”

“You said that we would stop whenever I wanted to.”

“I would have sworn that you did not want to.”

“You know a woman's mind so well?” She disentangled herself and scooted away. She felt ridiculous. She hastened to relace her gown. “I offered one kiss only.”

His gaze pierced her. “You offered more than that, pretty dove.”

“Not what you sought.”

He smiled and raised his hands in surrender. “I apologize for misunderstanding. The fault was mine.”

She looked away and sighed. “Nay. It was mine.”

The passion's memory still drenched them both, making things tremendously uncomfortable. She couldn't face him.

One kiss. It was supposed to sever the connections born of last night's bath and bed. Instead it had intensified them, and woven new, stronger ones. She had traveled farther with Rhys in less than one day than she had thought herself capable of going with anyone, ever. That bewildered her.

“I must go now.”

He rose. “Nay. You offered me a kiss and I offered you a good meal. I will be back with it soon. It is the least I can do after you have been so generous.”

She suspected that he mocked her. She couldn't really blame him. They were neither of them children, even if she had acted like a frightened one.

“Are you saying that you still want me to stay for dinner?”

He gave her a thoughtful look, as if he debated his response. “I find that I want you to stay as long as you choose to, Joan.”

He walked to the house, leaving her alone. She was grateful he had left.

She fought to shake off the confusion their lovemaking had evoked. She should leave before he returned. This house and garden were seductive. So, it turned out, was he. She hadn't expected that.