Chapter 16
It took forever to get rid of Batty that night. All she wanted to do was talk about the jousting demonstration and how handsome Brom was. For the first half an hour or so, Fay was all in because she, in turn, got to talk about how handsome Sir Tristan was. While her aunt and uncle had been awesome and she never liked complaining about them, they were older when she was thrust into their lives, and they didn’t care for the noisiness of sleepover parties. So it was always fun for Fay when she got to have unlimited girl talk with both Batty and Anne. Even Marjorie was made to admit the afternoon was a good one, though it was filled with dirty savages and their hostile displays of manliness.
She twitched with impatience as Batty now slowly combed out her hair. She’d wanted to keep it styled for her rendezvous with Tristan, but there was no way she could explain that to Batty, so she was going to have to make do with wrapping it in a scarf. She reminded herself that Tristan had seen her on the brink of death and still thought she was beautiful, so unstyled hair shouldn’t bother him too much.
Yawning hugely, she stretched and shoved Batty gently out of the way at the same time. “Thank you,” she said, trying to look as sleepy as she could. “But I think I’m ready to sleep now.”
She’d already taken a nap after they returned from the jousting field, having been completely worn out after all that excitement. She hadn’t complained a bit when Gunther met her at the castle entrance and scooped her into his meaty arms. She only wished it had been Tristan, but he had to help supervise all the lads putting away their things in proper order. Before Anne dragged her away from the picnic, she’d given him one last soulful look, and he’d given another tiny nod before turning his attention away from her as if she didn’t exist. It was all so clandestine, it made her shiver.
Which made Anne think she was catching a chill, hence her having to swear she’d sleep once she was back in her room. She thought she’d be too excited to, but had passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.
She paced around to make sure Batty wouldn’t come back in to check on her. When she was finally sure she was alone for the night, she wrangled herself back into a dress. She’d picked out a pretty straw-colored one with golden ties and a cream-colored underdress. She loosely braided her hair in one long fall down her back and put a golden lace veil over the top of her head. She patted the medallion she still kept on her bedside table for good luck and slipped carefully into the hall.
A dim light flickered under Anne’s chamber door and she almost scurried back into her chamber to wait a bit longer. Anne had sonar hearing and would surely hear the soft thud of her door closing. She was too impatient, too eager to see Tristan again without having to worry about what anyone around them thought, so she merely left her door ajar the tiniest crack.
It took her almost a solid minute to reach the stairs, with her dress clutched in her hands so it wouldn’t make a sweeping sound when she walked. She paused after each step, barely breathing while she waited to be discovered sneaking out of her room. Being fully dressed, she couldn’t even pretend she was going down for a snack. She’d be busted.
She made it to the stairway and inched down the stairs until they curved out of sight from their chamber landing, then she tiptoe-ran the rest of the way, so giddy she almost burst into laughter. She prayed Tristan was in the same room as before and carefully made her way toward it, pausing to catch her breath and even out her heartbeat before she tapped at the big wooden door. Time seemed to stop while she waited, unsure if he’d heard. She was about to open it and peek in, the same as when she’d been tasked to bathe him, when he finally pulled it open.
Her breath left her in a gust. He wore a light tunic that was open halfway down his chest, revealing his muscular, bronzed skin. She wondered if he trained with his shirt off back at his own keep and almost fainted just from the thought of it. His breeches, which were more like leggings in this time, were slightly baggy from wear, but she could still make out his solid thighs and calves through the woolen fabric. His feet were bare. She’d never before in her life thought any feet were anything other than feet, but his seemed like works of art.
Was that love? Being so enamored by someone she thought their very feet were something worth gazing upon with desire? She wished she knew. Everyone she’d ever known who’d had an opinion on love had always assured her that she would know when she was in love. She felt fascinated, attracted, captivated by him. Right now, she wanted to toss herself at him and wrap all her limbs around him however she could. Perhaps that was love or the beginning of it, anyway. She didn’t know, though, and she had a curse to break that wasn’t going to take maybe for an answer.
He motioned for her to enter and she looked shyly at the floor as he led her to the table set up in his room. He had a candle in the center of it, and motioned for her to have a seat.
Damn it, she thought, feeling like a hoyden.
She didn’t want to sit and have a conversation. Should she do as he suggested and be the medieval maiden she wasn’t or launch herself at him, which is what she definitely wanted to do and show who she really was? She needed him to accept who she really was. There had to be some compromise between sitting bashfully and outright launching.
She took a few steps until she was directly in front of him, just a few inches away. She would have to look up to speak to him, to get his attention. Instead, she placed her palm on his chest and rested it there, waiting to see what he would do. Wanting more than anything for him to do something.
He placed his hand over hers and lowered his head so his chin rested on top of hers. “You mustn’t think I invited you for …” he trailed off.
She squeezed closer, just an inch between them. She felt his warmth spreading toward her. “I know,” she said.
So close, not close enough. She trembled with wanting him and he rested his other hand at her waist. Lightly dug his fingers into the fabric of her gown. Was it too soon? Should she sit at the table? She had so many questions she wanted to ask him. Perhaps he wanted to ask her some as well. How would she answer? The truth or the Lady Fay version? She couldn’t tell him the truth, but he could still know her, couldn’t he? Tears gathered in her eyes and she tipped her head back, wanting to see into those blue depths, maybe find the answer to her dilemma.
He looked searchingly at her for a moment, a breath. The barest flicker of his eyes over her face. Then he leaned down and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers with the slightest of pressures. It was a question, and this one she could answer wholeheartedly and honestly.
She stood on her toes and slid her hands behind his neck, letting every inch of her body press against his as she did. She parted her lips and sighed quietly, running her fingers through his silky mane and pulling his head down closer.
A fire ignited between them. His kisses grew in intensity, his hands roamed her back, holding her so tightly she couldn’t find a breath. Or maybe he’d taken her breath away. As long as he held her, she’d keep hanging on, never wanting this to end.
“Lady Fay,” he groaned, pulling away slightly. His eyes were wild, and she was sure hers looked as dark and ferocious.
“Just call me Fay,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to be a lady right now.”
With a slight chuckle, he resumed his kisses, tugging on her hair so he could reach her throat. An animal moan escaped her and she felt herself going limp at the delicious way his tongue trailed along the side of her neck. With small shuffling steps, they made their way toward the bed, Tristan’s hands never leaving her body. He tugged at the laces at the side of her gown and she felt it loosen. She hurriedly pulled away for a moment, holding up her hands at his bereft look. In another moment she had the dress over her head, mussing her hair.
He grinned and swooped toward her, pushing the hair off her face and running a line of kisses along her hairline, behind her ear. Slipping her arms around his waist, she pulled herself toward him, molding her body to his, reveling in the hard planes. The backs of her knees bumped into the bed and he lifted his head from nuzzling her collarbone. A look of inquiry rested in his blue eyes, her new favorite color.
She nodded. “Yes,” she said, wriggling them around so his back faced the bed. She heaved with all her might, not doing a thing to budge him. With a smile laced with mischief and understanding, he let himself topple onto the bed. He held out his arms invitingly and she finally got her chance to launch herself at him. “Oof,” escaped her lips as she landed against his chest.
He immediately cradled her in his arms, capturing her mouth, once more, in a searing kiss. All the while she was getting lost in his exquisite tongue action, her underdress was being moved further and further up her legs. He squeezed her behind and she gasped around his mouth.
“I’ll stop,” he said. “I apologize.”
She thumped him in the chest and reached around to replace his hands. “Don’t you dare stop. The cold air just shocked me a bit.”
He gave her a puzzled look, as if he wanted to ask her something, and she feared he was going to become overly chivalrous. She would have fainted if he insisted on stopping. She needed him so badly her hands trembled as she raked them along his sides. His body lurched to life underneath her and she smiled triumphantly.
He pulled the coverlet over them and, soon, they were ensconced in a cozy cocoon, the heat from their bodies melding them together. She tugged at the drawstring of his breeches, finally able to get them down over his hips. Her chemise was up above her waist, and he slid it neatly over her head, tossing it across the room.
“So lovely,” he said, stroking his fingertips down the side of her breast.
Goosebumps popped out all over her skin and he smiled, running them back up. Lowering his head, he traced her nipple with his tongue. Of their own volition, her hips rose off the mattress and she wrapped her legs around his waist. So close. Not close enough.
“Tristan,” she sighed. “This is …” she let her thought trail off, her mind drifting in and out as he kept kissing down her body.
It was almost more than she could handle and she found herself getting greedy and impatient. She tugged on his shoulders and he smiled up at her from belly button level. She really liked that view of him and let her head flop backwards onto the pillow, deciding to let him keep working his way lower. She tangled her fingers in his hair and shivered. He pulled the blanket closer around them in response, but it wasn’t from cold. Indeed, she was heating up from within. Kicking at the blankets she thrashed her head back and forth, trying to hold on to her sanity as his tongue found its target.
“Oh, that’s …” she couldn’t seem to make a complete sentence and wondered vaguely if she’d ever be able to think straight again.
Soon, she didn’t care at all about anything other than Tristan and what he was doing. Nothing like this had ever happened in her own time. She’d never complain again about the curse if it meant a lifetime supply of this.
After she nearly pulled the hair from his scalp, he made his way back up to her, leaning on his elbows and looking into her eyes with a self-satisfied grin. As boneless as she felt, a fresh hunger overtook her and she grabbed him around the neck, pressing against him and, once more, wrapped her legs around his hips.
When he didn’t immediately give her what she so desired, she opened her eyes to find him looking at her questioningly again.
“Fay?”
She held in the squeal of impatience and only nodded vigorously. “Yes, I’m sure, I swear it. I want you so very much, I really do.”
He chuckled, but still hesitated. She realized with horror he believed she was a virgin, which, of course, an unmarried woman of her standing in this time would be. And, of course, since she was from a completely different time, she wasn’t. Should she wriggle away to keep him from finding out? Oh, that wouldn’t make her happy at all. She’d have to climb the wall and take a dunk in the river if she ever wanted to sleep again. But he’d be outraged when he found out she wasn’t. What could possibly be more scandalous in this time?
She decided to take her chances that he wouldn’t notice and pushed against him, squeezing an unmistakable invitation with her thighs. If he mistook it, she was fully prepared to beg. She tipped her chin and he kissed her tenderly on the mouth, also tenderly easing himself closer to her.
Barely able to breathe with longing, she waited, waited… And holy crap that was painful. She gasped at the intensity of the tearing pain. He stopped at once, back up on his elbows. She barely had a second to register that she seemed to be a virgin again. It had to have something to do with being transported by the curse. After all, she’d had to have left a body behind in her own time for everyone to think she was dead. Perhaps this was a whole new body. Well, hell. It was a blessing and a curse. She wouldn’t have any awkward explanations to give, but now it was going to be a massive—and she did mean massive—pain.
“It’s okay,” she panted, still wanting him.
She’d gone through this before, the summer before she started college. The second time would be better. As she looked at his worried, gorgeous face, she knew she wanted this first time, a second time, and many more after that. Once again, she squeezed him with her thighs, trying not to let him know she was bracing herself.
“I’m not used to this,” he admitted. “I fear I shall tear you to pieces.”
She snorted at that. “I don’t want to know what you’re used to,” she said, irritated at the embarrassment of it. She was glad he wasn’t stealing maidens’ virtues all over England, but she hated thinking of the alternative. And he was being awfully smug about his—she wriggled around and felt his great manhood pressing against her. Okay, not that smug. Despite her trepidation she got a new surge of desire. “Please,” she moaned. “Believe me, I’m ready.”
He laughed, which made her laugh. “My odd lady,” he said, nudging her nose with his.
Her embarrassment melted away and she was glad for this new start. She’d keep her other relationships, not that there were so many, in her mind, but her body would be all Tristan’s. A warm, melty feeling made her relax, no longer bracing for impact.
“I really want this,” she whispered. “I’m really ready.”
He kissed her. His lips brushed against hers and his tongue gently parted her lips as he eased his body to meet hers. There was only the slightest tug as he made it past and then they were truly joined. It only took a moment for her to realize she wouldn’t have to wait for the second time at all for it to be enjoyable. She knew she was going to enjoy this first time, a true first time. Very, very much indeed.
*
She found her way back to reality, noticing her underdress hanging from the wall sconce. It was a good thing the candle hadn’t been lit or she’d have a fine time making her way back to her room. She didn’t want to think about going back to her room at all, but she could see the sky through the window turning from black to gray, and knew Batty would be poking her head into her room as soon as the sun was up.
She stole a glance at her knight, not in his shining armor but looking just as majestic, and smiled, ridiculously content. The sheet covered half of him and she openly admired his exposed top half. She itched to trace the lines between his muscles but didn’t want to disturb his sleep. She scooted closer and leaned over his peaceful face, admiring the lashes that rested on the top of his cheekbones. Once again, she wanted to run her finger over his nose, feel the slight bump in the bridge.
“What is this?” he asked, eyes flying open.
She jumped and pulled the sheet up, suddenly shy. “You were awake,” she accused.
He smiled playfully and pulled at her protective sheet. “Fair is fair,” he said. “I should get to gaze upon you as well. And I was asleep, until I felt your breath on my cheek and wanted more of you.”
“Oh,” she said, letting him tug her covering away, wanting more of him as well. “But I should go. My maid will check in on me at dawn.”
He scowled at the window which grew brighter every second. “I would like to speak to your father,” he said, suddenly serious.
That jolted the last bit of sated content out of her. “About what?”
“To make you mine, of course,” he said, trailing his finger along her jaw. “Do not look so frightened. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
Disappointment marred his handsome face and she realized what he meant. Goodness, he wasn’t going to tattle on her, he wanted to marry her! But why? Out of responsibility or chivalry or rules or whatever the reason people married in this time, or because he loved her? She wanted to ask him, wanted to hear him say it, but perversely couldn’t bring herself to do it. It didn’t seem right if she had to ask.
Once again, she had the curse to thank for ruining what should have been a perfectly wonderful moment. She could have taken the declaration that he wanted to ask her father to marry her at face value. Instead, she had to quibble over the terms of that damn curse, because if it wasn’t true love on both their parts, the deal was off. And she knew what would happen if she failed.
“I—I am yours already,” she said, lowering her lashes seductively. Of course, the mood was ruined but, hopefully, she could leave without making a complete mess out of such a perfect night.
He frowned and nodded. “Very well, then.”
She threw her arms around him, wrestling him to his back and straddling him. “I want you to speak to my father,” she blurted, hands gripping his shoulders. “I just … I wanted more time.”
“More time?” he asked, completely perplexed.
“I—I like it like this, kind of secretive …” There was no way she could make him understand she needed more time to be sure of her feelings. Why would her feelings matter, after all, to a man of this time?
He stared at her for so long she thought he’d turned to stone, but he finally shrugged and relaxed. “As you wish, my lady.”
He wasn’t happy, she could tell. She tried to shake his burly shoulders. “I am your lady, don’t forget it. I am.”
He effortlessly broke free from her hold and ran a finger along the side of her cheek, his smile looking more sincere now. “Very well. I never understood you when I first met you. I suppose there’s no reason to understand you now. I will wait until you tell me to speak.”
She leaned over and kissed him, which took more time than she had, but she savored every second of the feel of his tongue tracing her lip. “Thank you,” she sighed, looking at the window. “I have to go or I’ll be disgraced.”
He jumped from the bed and gathered her clothing, bringing it to her and handing her piece after piece, surprisingly in the right order, which put her off a little. It was clear by his masterful performance the night before he had a good amount of experience. She only hoped it wasn’t that much. It was helpful, though, and she was dressed in no time.
“Until I see you again,” he said, kissing her deeply once more at the doorway.
She was near panic now, certain she was out of time and would be found out. “Soon,” she promised, and ran.
His touch electrified her. His very look made her weak at the knees. All she wanted was to spend every waking minute with him, but was that true love or only amazing chemistry? She’d have to know for sure or it could mean her life.