“Perhaps you were dropped on your head as a child,” she said sweetly. “Or mayhap madness runs in your family.”

He shook his head slowly, still advancing toward her. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Then your stupidity is all your own.”

“I don’t think I’m any more dim-witted than other males.” He was right in front of her now, leaning into her face, too close, too personal.

“Oh, yes,” she said as she shoved against him violently, “you are.”

He didn’t budge an inch, damn him. He simply pocketed her—her!—snuffbox and tangled the fingers of one hand roughly in her hair. He pulled her head back and placed his mouth, open and wet, against her throat.

“Tell me,” he growled, and she felt the vibration of his voice against her skin.

“You are the most stupid, lack-witted”—she shoved again and when he still didn’t move, balled her fists and hit his chest and arms—“imbecilic man in the history of the world.”

“No doubt,” he sighed against her throat.

He didn’t seem to mind or even feel her blows. He tore away the bit of lace at her neckline and lowered his mouth to the upper slopes of her breasts. “Tell me why, my sweet wife.”

“I have watched you,” she panted, “for years. I’ve seen you look at women—vapid, pretty women. I’ve seen you choose which ones you wanted. I’ve seen you stalk them, woo them, and seduce them. And I’ve seen when you grew tired of them, when your eyes would start to wander again.”

He tore at the laces to her bodice, loosening and pulling aside the fabric of her dress and stays until he reached her bare nipple. He palmed one breast and drew the other into his mouth, sucking strongly.

She cried out.

He lifted his head. “Tell me.”

She looked at him and felt her mouth twist in a grimace of rage. Of pain. “I saw you. I saw you take them aside, saw you whisper in their ear. Saw when you left with a particular woman and knew that you were taking her away to bed her.”

Her whole face was contorted, tears streaming down, scalding her cheeks, and still he looked at her. His expression was intent, his hands gentle as he thumbed her nipples.

She didn’t want his gentleness. The dam had broke, and all the emotion she’d suppressed for years was pouring forth. She held his shoulders, used them as leverage to reach up and bite him on the ear. He jerked his head back and, in a swift movement, swept her off her feet. She screamed, long and loud, as he threw her over his shoulder and bore her to the bed. He let her fall there, the impact cutting off her scream. He was upon her before she could move, his legs over hers, her wrists caught in one strong hand.

A pounding came at the door.

“Go away!” he shouted, his eyes never leaving her face.

“My lord! My lady!”

“No one opens that door, do you hear?”

“My lord—”

“Goddamnit! Leave us alone!”

They both listened as the footman’s steps left. Then Jasper leaned down and licked her neck. “Tell me.”

She arched up, but his legs held her down, and she couldn’t get purchase. “All those years . . .”

He pulled off his neck clo›ff anth and tied her wrists to the bed rails over her head. “All those years, what? Tell me, Melisande.”

“I saw you,” she panted. She looked over her head and yanked on the neck cloth. It didn’t give. “I watched you.”

“Stop struggling,” he ordered. “You’ll hurt yourself, sweet lady.”

“Hurt!” She laughed and it had an hysterical edge.

He took a knife from his pocket and began cutting away her clothes, each rip a sensuous tug against her oversensitive skin. “Tell me.”

“You bedded them, woman after woman.” She remembered the jealousy, the deep, cutting pain. He pulled the bodice entirely off her. “So many I couldn’t even keep track. Could you?”

“No,” he said softly.

He wrenched off her skirts and threw them to the floor. Taking off her shoes, he tossed them away as well. “I don’t even remember their names.”

“Damn you.” She was naked now, save for her stockings and garters. Her hands were bound above her, but her legs were free. She kicked at him and hit his thigh.

He fell on her heavily, his hips across hers. His mouth was on her breast again, his hand combing through the curls at the top of her thighs. “Tell me.”

“I watched you for years,” she whispered. The tears were drying on her cheeks, and heat was building within her. If he would just touch her. Touch her there. “I watched you and you never saw me.”

“I see you now,” he said, licking around a nipple. He trailed his tongue across her breast and to the other breast, circling the nipple there. Delicately. Tenderly.

Damn him.

“You didn’t even know my name.”

“I know it now.” He tested her flesh with his teeth.

Pleasure mixed with pain shot through her, straight from her nipple to where his hand still played. She arched, silently begging, and he relented, sucking the nipple strongly into his mouth.

“You . . .” She swallowed, trying to focus her thoughts. “You didn’t know I existed.”

“I do now.”

And he slid down her body, spreading her knees and draping her calves over his shoulders.

She bucked, trying to dislodge him, but she couldn’t budge him any more now than she could before.

He lowered his head and licked her sex.

Her belly contracted in shock, her bound hands fisted, and then she closed her eyes and simply felt. The wet stroke of his tongue, the fingers of one hand flexing on her hip bone, the other petting her mound. He licked and licked again, each stroke slow and intimate. Each stroke hitting her clitoris. She flexed her fingers, feeling the tension build. He moved his hands, spreading her folds, opening her and making her vulnerable.

She bit her lip, waiting, waiting.

And then he set his mouth directly on her bud and sucked. Nibbling, dragging, pulling on that bit of flesh until she couldn’t stand it anymore and broke. She arched, thrusting her pelvis into his face, feeling the heat flashing through her, hearing the pound of her heartbeat. He still licked and sucked, his hands heavy, holding her down. Another wave hit and she moaned, the sound loud in the quiet room. Some other time she might care, might feel embarrassed at the erotic sounds she was making, but right now . . .

Oh, God. Right now, she was a creature of pleasure.

He thrust two fingers into her, still gently licking with devastating accuracy, and she trembled. Her whole body tightened, arching, her muscles tensing, waiting. She couldn’t. She was too weak, too spent.

And then he moved his fingers within her and sucked again on her flesh. The muscles inside her contracted and released. She came, shaking with the force of her orgasm, shuddering and gasping. White heat spread from her center in a widening pool of pleasure. She went limp with warm relief.

She felt him move. Opening her eyes lazily, she found him lowering her legs. She let them lie on the bed, her thighs spread wide and wanton. He stared at her exposed center as he stood and removed his clothes.

“I can’t change the past,” he said. “I can’t unbed the women I fucked before I knew you. Knew who you were.”

His eyes raised to hers, and the blue of them was so bright it nearly illuminated the room. “But I tell you now that I will never bed another woman besides you in my lifetime. You are all I want. You are all I see now.”

He stepped from his breeches, and she saw that he was erect, his penis standing to his navel in primitive masculine pride. He climbed onto the bed and prowled up her body, straight-armed. His planted fists made the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and bunch.

She swallowed. “Untie me.”

“No,” he said calmly, though his voice was a rasp. He bent and scraped his teeth over her throat.

She shivered in erotic anticipation.

He kicked her legs farther apart and lowered his hips, his penis firmly on top of her oversensitive folds.

She gasped.

“You’re wet,” he growled. “Wet and waiting for me, aren’t you?”

She swallowed.

“Aren’t you?” He slid his enormous head through her flesh. “Tell me, Melisande.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He bumped his hips against her, and the shaft of his cock slid through her folds, setting all her nerves alight.

“Yes, I’m wet for you,” she whispered.

She tried to m›>Sh%" ove, tried to arch her hips into his, but he was too heavy, his position too firm.

“I’m going to make love to you now,” he whispered roughly against her neck. “I’m going to put my prick in your cunny and it will be just you and me, Melisande. All those others, all those memories, they don’t matter anymore.”

She opened her eyes fully at this statement and watched him. He was above her, his chest sheened with sweat. It had taken a toll on him as well, holding back, and that fact made her smile.

He looked into her eyes. “But I still need something from you.”

He moved his hips, and the head of his cock slid back until it just kissed her entrance.

She swallowed, nearly mindless with lust. “W-what?”

“I want the truth.”

He shoved and his penis began to enter her.

“I’ve told you the truth.”

He left her and she nearly wept.

He pressed his penis against her clitoris again and bore down. His arms were straight on either side of her, his upper body held apart from her straining one. “Not all of it. Not the whole truth. I want you. I want your secrets.”

“I have no more secrets,” she whispered. Her arms were shaking, still drawn over her head, and she knew her nipples were hard points between them.

He drew back and shoved his entire length inside her. She hissed. So full, so complete. It was nearly heaven.

But he stopped and held himself still. “Tell me.”

She locked her legs about him, holding his thickness within her. “I . . . I don’t—”

He frowned down at her and pulled his hips back quite deliberately. Even with her legs around him, he withdrew easily. “Do you want this? Do you want my cock?”

“Yes!” She was past pride, past deception. She needed his flesh within her. She was half mad with wanting.

“Then tell me why you married me.”

She glared at him. “Fuck me.”

A corner of his mouth twitched, though a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. He couldn’t hold out much longer either, and she knew it.

“No. But I’ll make love to you, my sweet, my lady wife.”

And he slammed his entire, thick length into her. He pounded into her wildly, completely out of control. She was past caring. Her head arched back, her eyes closed. She felt his hard body take its pleasure of hers. He leaned down and licked her shaking breasts, and she saw stars, imploding behind her eyelids, sparkling through her limbs. She gasped, and his tongue invaded her mouth. His body shook as his penis plunged into her again and again.

He stopped suddenly, and she opened her› shis eyes. His head was thrown back, his eyes blind, pleasure convulsing his face.

“Melisande!” he cried.

His head thumped to the pillow beside hers, his lungs sucking air. He was heavy and hard, and her arms were still drawn over her head. It didn’t matter. She’d gladly suffocate here underneath him. She turned her face toward him and licked the ear she’d earlier bloodied, and she finally said it. She gave him what he wanted.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. That’s why I married you.”

Chapter Nineteen

Princess Surcease was brought her soup, and when she had eaten all of it, what should she find at the bottom of the bowl but the golden ring? Once again, the head cook was summoned before the king, and though the king bellowed and threatened, the poor man knew no more than before.