THE BODY’S PROMISE
Richard felt his blood stop as he stared at Arabella. It felt as though his whole world had just altered in an eye blink, his life changed. Did she mean it?
“Arabella,” he murmured. “No.”
How could she do this? He didn't deserve that. She was an earl's daughter and he a lieutenant in an army that threatened her security. He was an enemy, and beneath her status.
She looked into his eyes, holding his gaze.
“I am free, now,” she whispered. “No more my father's daughter, no more a prize for his wars. I am simply Arabella. And I choose you.”
He closed his eyes. It felt as if his heart had been taken out and replaced with warm honey, soft, sweet, and impossibly wonderful. He gripped her hand as the sensation flowed through him, so strong it felt like pain.
He sighed. “Milady,” he said.
He kissed her then and he felt his eyes squeeze tight shut as his tongue gently moved apart those plump lips. It pushed into the hot wetness of her mouth and he felt his whole body tense with longing as he tasted her warmth.
He held her close, her sweet curves pressed against him. His hand gently touched her hair while he drew her into his arms.
She leaned against him and it was not, after all so hard a thing to simply lean back and let them lie down together beside the warming fire.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He was shivering, and barely realized it as she moved against him, her sweet curves pressed against him. He let his hand stroke her back and marveled at the softness of her skin as it touched the top of her back, visible beneath the scooped neck of the gown. She was lying against him, her chest pressed to his, his weight pushed down on the earthen floor as she lay atop him.
“Arabella,” he said as he stroked her back.
She looked down at him, her eyes holding his gaze. His hand stroked her hair, she sighed and moved up, and he let his hand lose itself in her hair as he stroked the silky softness, drawing her mouth down to his.
As he gently sucked the sweet fullness of her lips, she moved against him and he nearly cried out with the intensity of feeling that shot from his groin to his brain. He knew she did it in innocence, but all the same, it was almost more than he could bear without biting his lip with strain.
He looked up at her, so beautiful in the firelight. He held his breath and simply stared at her, feeling complete amazement. She was easily the most beautiful creature ever. Her hair was loose round her body, the under-dress she wore hanging from one shoulder, her skin pale and shining in the firelight. He could see the round of her breasts under the gown and his whole being ached to touch it.
She smiled down at him and his heart stopped.
“You're so beautiful,” he breathed.
She smiled. Her cheeks flushed with shy warmth that made her even more ravishing. He felt his loins ache with longing.
“Oh, Richard, you talk such nonsense.”
Her voice was warm and glowing and he smiled, feeling his cheeks ache with the intensity of the grin. He held her to him, wrapping his arms around her torso that she pressed against him and she sighed with sweet contentment.
His grip loosened and he gently stroked down her back again, this time feeling for the buttons that clasped the under-dress to her body. He worked one loose and felt her tense in his arms.
He let her go and she sat up, her eyes dark and glowing in the flame's light.
“I'm sorry, milady,” he whispered.
She shook her head and instead reached for the button of his shirt, which hung woefully open. She let her fingers gently trace his chest. He gasped and tendrils of pure longing shot through his body and made him ache with need.
She smiled and lay down against him again and his hand reached up and undid the next button. Soon, it was all he could do not to rip the dress from her and he found himself unfastening button after button with an urgent haste.
The under-dress slipped down her body and he felt his hands brush against skin. He groaned as his groin ached and he slid his hands down lower, reaching for her waist.
She sighed and leaned against him. Under the shift, she was naked, he realized with wonderment as his hand slid down her back and stroked naked skin all the way to the round hardness that graced her body.
She gasped as he gently let his hand move lower, unable to resist stroking the parting of her thighs. She went tense and then relaxed against him as his fingers gently explored her there, as far as he could reach, anyway.
She moved higher and her lips met his. He felt his need grow and he held her tight, rolling over so that she was on her back beneath him. She gasped but also smiled, her eyes soft as she looked up at him.
“I'm sorry, milady,” he whispered again as he sat up, feeling a coldness in his chest at the thought that he might scare her. “I don't...” he paused. “I don't want to frighten you. If I do anything to scare you, do promise to tell me?”
She smiled. Very deliberately, she reached up and undid the next button on his shirt. He gasped with surprise and then simply gasped as he stared down at her where she lay on the hearth rug, looking up at him.
Her skin was pale in the flame light, her hair red where the light touched it. Her eyes were glowing with sweet warmth, her red lips half-parted where she smiled up at him. Her breasts, he noticed, were full and rounded, the ends tipped with pink. He felt his loins throb as he let his gaze feast on her curves, straying from her softly rounded breasts to the soft curve of her thighs and back again.
She smiled and that was all he could take. Gritting his teeth to maintain at least some restraint on his haste, he reached up and started to undo his own buttons – the three that were left. Then, wrestling the kilt off – he had never worn one before – he knelt down beside her.
He felt his face flood with color as her eyes roamed him, lingering with some alarm at his waist. He realized with some horror that he was the first naked man she'd ever seen – of course he was, he reasoned impatiently with himself. The lass was of good birth and would practically have been cloistered all her life.
“If I scare you,” he said again, “please, tell me. I'll stop.”
Again, very firmly, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Her stroking burned like fire, and he felt every impact of her fingertips, lingering long after she moved them. She held his gaze.
“You don't,” she whispered. Her voice was soft and sweet and rushed through him.
He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good.”
Then, as she rolled over onto her back, he reached out and, shuddering uncontrollably, parted her thighs.
* * *
Arabella closed her eyes as Richard strayed a hand between her thighs. She bit her lip as he stroked her, his fingers gently touching the folds between her thighs. She couldn't believe how strange it felt! Strange and impossibly wonderful.
He stroked her there and she cried out as the sensation became overwhelming. It felt as if some slow tide was building inside her, some desperate, rising urgency that would not be denied.
He smiled at her, hearing the gasp she'd made. Deliberately, he parted her legs and moved closer, so that the – whatever it was – of his body pressed against the place his fingers touched.
He closed his eyes and leaned against her and she felt something move.
Then the most incredible sensation she'd felt flowed through her like a fire. She let out a sigh of astonishment as it felt as if her whole body was bathed in a sweetness she'd never known before, each limb and joint of it melting in a wildfire that brought every part of her together and flooded it with light.
“Oh!”
He smiled and looked into her eyes and then he moved again.
The sensation grew and then diminished and then, abruptly, grew again as he pushed inside of her again.
She closed her eyes and felt the intense rising sweetness building inside her, building, and growing and...
Suddenly, something happened. It was like her heart stopped, or her whole body stopped, as the flood broke inside it. Every limb was awash with the amazing, intensifying waves of sensation that spread out from her loins and into her brain and spiraled down warmly to her toes, making her close her eyes. She lay there, numb and aching with it.
Inside her, Richard moved again. He was pushing out and pushing in, moving faster and faster as he sweated and moved and then...
He cried out as she had done and she felt him collapse on top of her. He sighed and held her close, his arms wrapped round her. She sighed too and held him close.
They lay like that before the fireplace, arms wrapped round each other, naked bodies pressed together. Gently, she let a hand stroke his back.
He sighed and moved closer and as they lay there it felt as if his body was one with hers.
She closed her eyes and felt herself start to drop off to sleep. His lips found hers, then, and they kissed. She knew that, whatever happened from this moment after, everything in her life had changed. She was in love with Richard and she knew it now.
“My darling,” he whispered, looking down at her with tenderness so profound it melted her heart.
“My dearest,” she whispered. She reached up and stroked his hair.
He reached down and gently touched her cheek. She felt her heart melt.
They reached for his plaid and, wrapped in that and a cloak, they spent the night together, sharing their warmth, beside the fire.
All was well in their world.