Bridget didn’t sleep well. She felt too many eyes upon her to relax. The bed in the solar was encased in heavy curtains to ensure privacy, but she awoke several times when she heard the guard near the arches changing. She heard only the brushing of leather against wooden floor, but her eyes opened and every muscle tightened. Darkness engulfed the room, but there was a single glow of light, as if someone had opened the shutters that covered the windows.

Pushing back one of the bed curtains, she stood and saw that the shutters were indeed opened wide. The night air blew in, ruffling her chemise and chilling her legs. Loneliness seemed to go hand in hand with the darkness. Nevertheless, the beckoning moonlight saw her striding to the window, the silver glint bathing her while the night breeze lifted her unbound hair.

Lovers meet in the moonlight …

Heat moved over her skin, licking across the sensitive flesh while Curan’s face filled her thoughts. She felt him so keenly, it was as though the man was in the room with her. Noise from beneath the window made her frown. Moving forward she looked down and gasped.

Horses and men were filling the inner yard. Many of them lying down next to their horses to sleep while they had the chance.

“I brought my entire army to fetch you back.”

Bridget didn’t gasp, she didn’t make any sound at all, because it felt as if Curan had materialized straight out of her longing for him.

“Does that please you, Bridget? To see that I will place my men in harm’s way to possess you?”

“No.”

He was half shadow, standing near the wall where only a spattering of moonlight touched him. She felt him more than saw him. Strength radiated from him, making her more aware of how chilly the night air was and how warm his skin would feel against her own.

He struck a flint stone, and the spark was brilliant. It gave birth to the flicker of a candle, the yellow flame bathing him in light. He lacked the mail shirt that he so often wore and stood only clothed in a shirt and pants. She sighed, too full of joy to hold the sound inside her. One of his dark eyebrows rose.

“Are you pleased to see me, Bridget? You will have to forgive me for doubting such.” His gaze slipped down her body, the candle flame turning her chemise transparent. Hunger drew his features tight.

“I am pleased to see you, yet that is not a good thing. It is a sign of how weak I am.” She moved away from the window and the candle, suddenly recalling the guards who had watched her most of the day. “I am far too happy to allow you to take the burden of obeying my father away.”

Curan made a low sound of frustration. “Do not begin trying to twist my thinking. We have received the church’s blessing three years past. It is done.”

“You know that is not so.” Bridget turned in the dark, her chemise flaring away from her body. “Do not think that because I am a woman raised in the country that I do not hear of the number of divorces. Women who knelt in front of the altar, too, yet find themselves cast out without a single silver piece. You shall suffer along with me if we celebrate this union. No one disobeys the chancellor. It is time for you to accept reason in this matter.”

The candle flame died in a quick pinch, robbing her of her sight. Bridget didn’t hear him, but she felt him closing the distance between them. In spite of every reason, she was still keenly aware of him, still yearning for one more touch to savor before she had to live without it.

His hand cupped the side of her face, and she heard a soft moan rise from her throat. She hardly recognized such a sound coming from her own lips; it was too husky, too passionate to be hers.

“If challenging a chancellor is the only way to have you, sweet Bridget, then I shall face him without faltering.” His thumb passed over her lower lip, sending little bolts of sensation down her spine. “But be very sure that I will never allow you to leave me again.”

He growled the last few words in a deep tone that raised gooseflesh along her arms. His hand slipped into her loose hair, threading through the silken strands to capture the back of her head. His mouth pressed against hers, a hard kiss claiming her lips while his hand held her in place. His lips demanded compliance, boldly pressing hers to open so that his tongue might plunge deeply into her mouth. Passion ignited inside her so hot the night air became a soothing thing. She twisted toward him, lifting her hands to touch the hard body that had so absorbed her thoughts. Her fingertips found his chest covered in only the shirt. The ties that secured the collar were simple to open, her hands performing the task without thought. There was only instinct guiding her, and the need pounding louder and louder until it was the only thing that she heard.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to be touched in return. A sigh broke through their kiss when her hands finally pushed his shirt aside to allow her to touch his skin. It was smooth and hot beneath her fingertips, but so decadent she couldn’t contain her delight. His hand still cradled her head, but the hold had become dear to her. Resistance was gone, her body willingly leaning into his. In the dark he was more approachable, and boldness took over as she sent her hands along his neck, pressing her entire palms to his skin.

“Sweet Bridget …”

His voice trailed off into a throaty whisper. His hand moved, his fingers combing down her loose hair. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes to allow the sensation to command her. He reached the ends and lifted both of his hands to her head to begin another long stroke through her hair. He closed the gap between them, leaning down to bury his face in her tresses. She heard him draw in a deep breath and make a sound that resembled a contented grumble against her neck.

When he reached the ends of her hair this time, his hands slid onto her hips, cupping them for a moment. The grip sent a wave of excitement through her belly, her clitoris suddenly becoming needy and demanding. The knowledge of what he could do to the little nub hidden within the folds of her sex made her even more eager for his attention.

“Tell me you want this.”

He lifted his face away from her neck and stared at her. In the moonlight, his face was cast in silver and black, making him appear more legend than man. Yet his touch was warm, like a man … like a lover.

“Tell me you desire me.”

His fingers tightened around her hips, the hold feeling more intimate than any she had ever experienced. Her blood was racing through her body, her heart beating in hard thumps that pounded against the inside of her chest. She wanted to press her belly against him, against the hard cock she knew lay hidden behind his clothing. He held her in place, however, refusing to allow her to remain silent.

“I do desire you.”

His fingers plucked at the delicate fabric of her chemise, tugging it up until he pulled the entire garment over her head. Her hair floated down once he drew the last of the chemise away from her, the long strands settling against her bare back in a whisper of sensation.

“Good, because I lack any further ability to resist you.”

He reached up and yanked his shirt free in one hard motion that betrayed how little control he had remaining. The moonlight cast its illuminating glow over hard ridges of muscle that covered him from his neck to where his pants hid the rest of his body from view. A light covering of hair curled over his chest and down the center of his belly. Bridget was acutely aware of the fact that she was nude, but not because she was ashamed. There was no guilt pressing down on her, only an awkwardness and fear that he would find her form lacking. She felt his gaze sliding over her, lingering on the teardrop shape of her breasts as they hung exactly the way nature had designed them. Her nipples drew into tight little pebbles while he remained silent, and his attention slid lower to her waist and then over the flare of her hips.

“It feels as though I have waited an eternity to see you like this.” He reached out, gently stroking the curve of one breast, his fingers tracing the soft globe until they encountered her hard nipple. “It was worth every tormenting moment.”

His fingers lingered on her nipple, softly pinching it. Sharp enjoyment shot through her, and she shifted away, unable to remain still. He frowned at her but reached for the waistband of his pants and opened them instead of closing the distance between them. The open garment sagged down his legs, and he stepped out of it in one swift motion. His cock stood up, stiff and erect, with nothing to impede her sight of it.

“I believe you claimed your mother had you tutored by a courtesan to keep you from fear tonight. Is it working?”

“Yes …” She answered before thinking. Her mind had long since stopped trying to interrupt her with its ponderings.

“Then touch me, Bridget.”

She had never heard him plead, but it was there in his husky tone. A need to have her come to him. There was no choice involved. She reached out, her fingers connecting with his erect member. He stiffened, drawing in a harsh breath. Hearing that telltale little sound flooded her with confidence. She closed her hand around his girth, allowing her fingers to grip him gently. Her memory offered up a picture of how Marie had stroked Tomas’s length, and Bridget mimicked the motions.

“Sweet Christ.”

Curan clamped a hard arm around her, pulling her against his body and trapping her hand in place.

Frustration sent her chin up. “Now who is timid?”

His teeth were bared at her, but she rubbed the underside of his cock with her fingers and listened to him suck breath through his teeth.

“I believe it only fair that I reduce you to the same weak creature your touch makes me.” His lips curved up in an arrogant grin. “I enjoyed hearing you whimper.”

“I believe I will enjoy hearing the same from your lips just as much.” She rubbed his cock once again. “Unless you are too much afraid of a woman gaining control over you. Somehow I doubt that you have never been sucked.”

“Sweet Christ, that woman told you about sucking a man?”

Bridget laughed, a throaty sound that drew one of his hands down to one side of her bottom. His fingers gripped her, the tips curling into the valley between her cheeks. Rising up onto her toes, she placed a soft kiss against his chin.

“She showed me.”

He cursed beneath his breath and in French, but it filled her with more boldness.

“Does that displease you? I seem to recall that the subject Marie demonstrated on was most pleased. Or did you want a wife who would lie on her back and submit while reciting her prayers as you serviced her?”

His fingers began stroking her bottom, massaging and gripping the cheek they were holding. Heat licked its way through her passage, making her aware of how empty she was.

“You will be far too busy whimpering with pleasure to pray.” His fingers suddenly delved farther between her thighs to touch the entrance of her body. She jerked, knocking her teeth against his chin. He grunted but remained still, one fingertip gently entering her body.

“But we were discussing me making you whimper.” This clear challenge in her voice caused his face to tighten. The arm chaining her to him suddenly relaxed, allowing her to move far enough away to begin stroking his cock once again.

“So we were.”

There was unmistakable challenge in his voice as well. But her confidence rose to answer it, determination making her bold. Sinking to her knees, she used both hands to stroke his flesh. It was hard, yet covered in silky smooth skin. Opening her mouth, she licked along the ridge of thick flesh that ran around the head. She heard him drag in another harsh breath, heard it hissing through his teeth. Such a small thing, but from Curan it was a glaring signal that she was affecting him. She longed to be more than a possession; here in the dark she wanted to be his lover. Which entitled her to an equal share of giving delight.

She allowed her lips to close around the head of his cock. Another hiss escaped from him, but his hand appeared at the back of her head, gently cupping while she teased his cock with her tongue. Her heart was still pounding, the frantic pace keeping her warm. Her rapid breathing drew the scent of his skin into her senses. The fragrance was distinctly male and intoxicating when coupled with the way he drew those harsh breaths. Her confidence blossomed, and she relaxed her jaw to take more of his length into her mouth. His flesh felt harder than she’d expected, but it was covered in the satin of his skin.

Bridget felt nothing unpleasant, and she discovered that she preferred doing the sucking far more than viewing someone else perform the deed. Watching had not allowed her to truly experience how much it excited her. She hadn’t smelled the scent of his skin or tasted the faint salty drops of seed that collected in the slit that crowned his cock. She had been ignorant of so much while watching, for the act was decadent.

He muttered something that didn’t make sense, but the tone stoked her growing pride. She might be on her knees, but there was nothing submissive about her position. Using her hands to caress the portion of his cock that wasn’t inside her mouth, she experimented with speed and tightness. She judged the success of her efforts by the sounds he made and the way his hand began to grip her head tighter, as though he feared she might stop.

She recalled that yearning … that pounding need to press against the hand giving her pleasure. She wanted to place him in that same position, wanted to know that he was as desperate for her touch as she had been for his. Her hands moved faster, and she took even more of him into her mouth. His hips jerked, thrusting toward her as she heard his breathing become ragged and fast.

“No.” He pulled her head back as he snarled that single word at her.

She hissed back at him, her temper flaring up. “You gave me release with your hand. Why will you not submit to my touch?”

“Because I have spent too many hours wondering if I have lost you to take the quick pleasure your lips promise me.”

He hooked his hands beneath her arms and lifted her off her knees in a motion that stole her breath. She forgot how much strength he possessed, forgot because he always controlled it so expertly when touching her. Yet it was there in his body, far more strength than she had, plenty to imprison or hurt her if he chose to disregard her comfort.

“I will have my wife, Bridget, and I swear that I shall have you now. There will be no more time for you to spin false tales.” He bent one knee and scooped his shirt off the floor. When he pushed back up to tower over her, he captured her head with one hand and held her hostage with his breath teasing her wet lips.

“You are not suffering your courses. Maybe once I have claimed your innocence you will be done with all of this resistance. To be honest, I care about naught save proving that your body craves our union as much as my own does.”

He pressed a hungry kiss against her mouth, boldly sending his tongue deep into her mouth to stroke against her own. The hair on his chest tickled her skin, but it felt so very male that she shivered. Passion rose quickly to flood her. Thoughts of taking command vanished as he held her head in place and took a deep taste of her mouth. This kiss was everything she had seen in him the moment he arrived—hard and conquering. His cock brushed against her belly, promising her that he could indeed keep his promise to claim her.

You long for it …

“Yet I will say most plainly that your suckling is a delight that I will be most glad to yield to.” He placed a soft kiss against her cheek. “Yet not tonight. I have reached the end of my discipline for waiting.”

Firm and hard, his tone drew a shiver from her. His hands found her breasts and cupped them, unleashing a wave of heat that washed down her body. He picked her up and sat her on the tabletop with his shirt beneath her, quick and efficient. He pushed her thighs open to allow for his body to stand between them, lending weight to the fact that he truly was impatient to claim her.

She shared that feeling. The time for waiting was past. “I am ready, Curan.”

He drew in a sharp breath, and she felt his hands tighten on her for a moment. “Sweet Bridget …”

The height of the table raised her so that her body was even with his cock. A tiny bolt of fear intruded on the hunger burning in her. She was a maiden, and losing her virginity would not be pleasant.

Her thighs tried to snap shut, but his legs prevented such. Curan gripped her hips, but he did not pull her toward his erect flesh.

“I would never cause you pain, Bridget, you needs learn to trust in that.”

His hands stroked across her bare thighs, back and forth, rekindling the delight that had been consuming her. Skin against skin felt too wonderful to waste her attention on what might happen later. She wanted to immerse herself in the bliss at hand.

“Touch me.” His tone returned to the husky whisper that made her think of moonlight liaisons. Her hands lifted without delay to press against his chest.

The next stroke of his hands along her thighs did not stay on top of her leg. He smoothed one firm palm over the top of her thigh and onto the delicate skin of her inner leg. Her passage was quick to recall how good it had felt when he fingered her sex. Hungry and yearning, her body lifted toward his, her knees willingly spreading.

“That’s the way, my sweet, trust my touch to pleasure you.”

His fingers found the little nub between the folds of her sex that burned for friction to satisfy it. Lightning shot through her at the first rub, and she clutched at his neck to avoid falling back across the table.

“I have waited years to feel your arms about me.”

His whisper awoke tenderness inside her. Such soft words from so hard a man. She had never expected them. It almost sounded as though he needed her.

He stroked her slit, running his fingers through the wet flesh from her clitoris to the entrance of her body. Need clawed her, breaking down every thought until she was reduced once again to a whimpering creature.

She craved penetration. No matter how coarse such an idea was, she wanted him to thrust deep and hard into her sheath. Reaching out, she found his shoulders and pulled him nearer. The head of his cock pressed against her sex hot and hard. She muttered approval while he teased the entrance of her body once again. It was impossible to remain still. Her body began lifting to that finger, desperate to take it deeper. Inside her passage, the walls were sensitive and alight with more pleasure just from being touched.

“Forgive me, Bridget, I would save you this small pain if I could.” His words were too soft for all the yearning churning inside her.

Her hands became claws on his shoulder, her fingernails biting into his skin. “Enough. I am not so delicate like a child. I am a woman grown.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling. “What you are is my woman!”

Curan’s hands cupped her hips, closing around them in a grip that was as solid as steel. He closed the remaining space between them until she felt the hard touch of his cock against her slit. Her folds were wet, allowing his rigid erection to slide easily between them and into the opening of her sheath.

Hard and hot, his flesh pressed against her, finally breaching the thin membrane and stretching her body until pain pinched her along every point of contact. She would have shifted away, but his grasp held her in place for the invasion. He paused when she drew in a harsh breath, her fingernails digging in deeper.

“Finish.” She hated being suspended in that moment of dread. Lifting her chin she stared into his eyes. “Now.”

His eyes glittered, his lips pressing into a hard line in response to her words. His hands renewed their grip on her hips before he withdrew from her body. Relief swept through her, but it was nothing compared to the longing she had for him to return.

“As you wish.”

The words might have been designed to be conciliatory, but he punctuated them with a firm thrust that didn’t stop partway into her. His hard flesh penetrated her deeply, and he held her steady while his cock burrowed into her. Pain burned along every inch of contact, her passage becoming a hotbed of torment that stole her breath. Her muscles drew tight, her back arching away from him, but there was no escaping his grasp.

The pain receded almost as quickly as it had begun. She dragged a deep breath into her lungs and gasped when she realized how deeply her fingernails were clawing into his shoulders.

“Leave them. I enjoyed sharing the moment with you.”

“You are coddling me by saying such a thing.”

Curan chuckled again. It was a rich, male sound that struck her as somewhat wicked.

“I am not coddling you, Bridget.” His hands released their grasp and massaged her hips for just a moment before resuming their hold. “I am making you mine.”

He pulled his length free and thrust smoothly back into her. “Completely mine.”

Enjoyment edged his words. They were arrogant and possessive, but she was too distracted by how good his cock felt sliding against her clitoris to give her temper any attention. She shuddered, wanting him deeper, willing his thrusts to be harder, but her position did not allow her to move very much, only a slight tilting of her hips toward each plunge of his length.

“That’s the way, ride with me, Bridget.”

His words were whispered against her ear because she was pulling her body so close to his. Twisting her hands around his neck, her hips curled up to each thrust. Pleasure tightened deep in her belly, more intense than the last time he had touched her. This need was deeper, stronger, and she cried out with the desire to gain release from the mass of need consuming her.

Her lover did not disappoint her. Curan’s breath was harsh, and a soft growl issued through his teeth as his motions became more frantic. He thrust harder and faster into her body, his hands holding her hips in place for each penetration. He lingered deep inside her for a moment each time before withdrawing and thrusting once more. Her heart accelerated faster and faster until she was sure it would burst, but she did not care. All that mattered was the brightening flame of pleasure burning beneath the path his cock traveled.

Pleasure erupted deep inside her, spraying up to cover her in thick delight. She bucked toward her lover, pulling on him because she wasn’t close enough. Her thighs clutched at his hips to hold his cock deep inside her. Curan snarled and thrust hard a few final times before he stiffened, holding himself rigid as she felt his hot seed flooding her. That set off another ripple of enjoyment, her passage gripping his hard length while she shivered with enjoyment. No words could express this need to remain close to her lover.

Their skin was dewy with perspiration in spite of the night air. Bridget felt his heart hammering as fast as her own, and his breath blew past her ear. He shuddered, his larger body quivering just a tiny amount. Her own became limp, every muscle losing the ability to cling to him. She became grateful for the table and its support. To stand felt impossible. Little ripples of enjoyment ran along her limbs, with only a dull ache to mark where he had taken her innocence.

A soft kiss landed on her temple and then several more. They were mere whispers he trailed along her cheek and across the column of her neck before pulling his flesh from her body. A quiver went through her as pain pinched her sheath.

“It will not hurt like that again.”

She suddenly laughed at him. Even in the dark she noticed his eyebrow rise.

“You know so much about virgins, do you, my lord?”

He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest and walking toward the bed.

“I agree that I do not understand you well.” The bed shook when he laid her upon it. He pushed the thick coverlet over and leaned far into the bed.

“Yet that is a matter we shall discuss once the sun has risen.”

The bed shook once more as he left it. Tears pricked her eyes in spite of how ridiculous it was to feel lonely. She was not some child who needed cuddling. She listened to his feet making contact with the floor and forced herself to pull the coverlet across her body. When it touched her bare skin, she recalled that her chemise was lying on the floor somewhere. With a sound of frustration, she pushed the coverlet back off and sat up.

“Be still, Bridget, you sleep with me.”

“With you?”

The bed shook once more as he placed a knee upon it. He reached out and gently pressed her down onto her back with a single hand. Another quick motion and he pulled the edge of the coverlet over her once again.

“Your hearing is excellent.”

The light from the window didn’t reach all the way to the bed, and the curtains kept most of it out, but Curan was still outside the bed and she watched him lean over to prop his sword against the wall directly beside the bed. As soon as he finished, he rolled over to take the place beside her, lying on his back and stretching his feet out toward the footboard.

“Morning will come soon enough.”

He hooked an arm beneath her and pulled her alongside him. Bridget put her hands out to stop herself from colliding with him but might as well have saved herself the effort. He folded her into his embrace, even raising one of his knees between her legs to keep her near him. She ended up draped along his side, with one of his arms curled around her waist and the hand resting on her hip, while his opposite hand pressed her head down onto his shoulder.

She wiggled, uncertain how to respond. He sighed and pulled the coverlet over them both. She was suddenly so tired, but also keenly aware of how her body adjusted to lie comfortably against his. As though nature had designed the genders to lie just so after passion was satisfied.

Such a tempting idea …

Her body liked it well enough. Satisfaction was like the glow of fire coals on a winter night. Her body was basking in it. Curan shifted, his hand smoothing along her waist and hip.

“I need my chemise.”

“I disagree.” His hand wandered up to cup a breast. “You are not cold, and I enjoy the feel of you against me. I have marched an army across a border to feel you against me, Bridget, so be still.”

His fingers landed on top of her lips, sealing her next comment behind them. What was the use in arguing? The man was impossible when it came to changing his mind. She was too tired to attempt to coax him into agreeing with her anyway. Her body relaxed and demanded rest.

Curan did not sleep as quickly as his bride did. Yet that was not a burden. He listened to the way her breathing softened and felt her body become relaxed against his. He was in awe, his fingers lightly skimming over her skin just to test if she were real. Bridget had lived in his dreams for a thousand nights. Three years of thinking of this moment when they would at last be together. He did not begrudge his king his service, but he would be a liar if he did not admit to longing to lay his head down in his own bed with his family sharing the same roof.

Yet his bride was not content by his side. That tormented him. He remained awake, savoring the way she clung to him, for once the sun rose he would have to renew his struggle to keep her.