“I’ve seen you unclothed before,” he remarked. He drew closer, sitting beside her on the bed. “Unless you require my assistance.”
She drew back the bedcovers. “I don’t need you at all.”
“Don’t you?” he whispered. The warm, tempting female skin sent need roaring through him.
He pulled her onto his lap, trapping her in place. He let her feel how much he wanted her, giving her a chance to leave if she would. When she didn’t move, he kissed her again, giving rein to the tide of desire rising within him.
His mind cursed the fact that she could not take her place as queen. They had only stolen moments together, and by God, he meant to make the most of them.
Her bottom twisted against him, and it only made him grow harder. With one hand, he held her waist while his palm slid beneath her shift to her bare breast. He stroked the nipple and heard her gasp when he lifted the shift away. She sat naked in his lap, and he kissed her shoulder, palming both breasts as she stood between his legs.
“Patrick,” she breathed. “You shouldn’t—”
“I know it. There are many things I shouldn’t do.” He fought against the vicious desire gripping him. “Do you want me to stop?”
Silently, she shook her head. Her full lips tempted him, her hair falling around her bare shoulders like a Saracen veil. Her breath hitched as he kissed every inch he could reach. He kneaded her breasts, turning her to face him before he captured her mouth again.
Like an invader, he seized his plunder, barely aware of why he had come. All he could think of was his beautiful wife standing naked before him. And gods, he wanted her.
Her hands moved down to his trews, unfastening the ties. He tore at his own clothing, needing her skin against his. She touched him everywhere, her palms against his heart, moving down to the hot length of him. He closed his eyes with the dark pleasure.
Before he lost control, he picked her up and laid her upon the bed. Joining her, he leaned down to kiss her breasts. With his tongue he swirled circles over her skin, until he sucked the nipple deep into his mouth. She let out a low moan, and then he reached down to the center of her womanhood. He rubbed it with his thumb, watching her strain to meet the pleasure. Abruptly, he plunged his fingers inside and she cried out, shaking in his arms as the waves overtook her.
He rolled over and lifted her above him to sit upon his manhood. She slid down, wet and hot with desire. For a moment she sat with him inside her, and the intense agony made him want to beg her to move.
He pulled her mouth down to his, lifting her hips to move her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, but she met his rhythm, taking him deep within her womb.
As he made love to her, his sense of possession grew stronger. He didn’t want any man to ever touch her, save himself. She belonged to him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a life with her—even though it was forbidden.
He changed their position, standing up beside the bed. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and lifted her, driving deep inside. Her breath shattered and he growled as the fierce pleasure took hold. Before he could spill himself in her depths, he pulled out, his seed spurting beside her.
He had done it without thinking. Crestfallen, she turned away from him.
“Isabel, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. I know you don’t want a child. Not by me.”
He stood and got a cloth. While Isabel cleaned herself, he put on his clothing. “I am sorry.” He tossed her theléineand overdress. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings. You caught me by surprise.”
Isabel moved to a table and picked up her comb. Running it through her hair, she covered it with a veil.
She counted herself a fool for allowing Patrick back into her bed. She’d let herself be ruled by the needs of her body, instead of thinking clearly. And now he wanted her to join him at Laochre with the rest of the islanders and her people. She dreaded it.
Outside the donjon, the folk gathered. Trahern and Ewan had loaded their boats, and a few of the islanders took their vessels, filling them with people. The gray sky released soft drops of rain, coating her skin with a fine mist. Isabel raised a woolenbratover her head to shield the rain.
She caught a glimpse of her husband watching her, and his gaze seared her with the memory of this morning. Though she understood the reason for bringing all of the people to Laochre, she sensed the disorder it would bring. The lack of space, coupled with the resentment of the Irish, would only increase the tension between the two peoples.
But if they remained separate, the invaders would conquer them all. The women and children remained blissfully ignorant of the circumstances, and Isabel intended to do whatever she could to soothe the animosity between both sides.
The boat rocked gently upon the journey to the mainland. Annle and Sosanna joined Isabel, along with the Norman women and children. The Normans fawned over the newborn, exclaiming at the sight of the delicate hands and ears. Sosanna glowed with happiness.
At the bow of the boat, Sir Anselm’s face softened at the sight of the newborn boy. He offered Sosanna a gruff smile, and her face colored in response.
Isabel wondered if the pair might not become more than friends. It seemed possible. She tucked her knees in, watching the green coastline. Patrick rowed along with the other men, his muscles flexing. He continued watching her, and her skin warmed under his gaze. Yet the only thread holding her marriage together was the threat of invasion. Though Patrick desired her, his feelings did not run any deeper.
She wanted so badly to believe that he might claim her as his true wife and make her Queen of Laochre. More than ever, she wanted to be at his side. But she could not forget Donal Ó Phelan’s offer—for Patrick to divorce her and wed his daughter instead. It broke her heart, knowing that her marriage hung in the balance and there was nothing she could do to fight for it.
When they reached the shoreline, the Norman women walked with eagerness, as if anticipating a new home. Children raced ahead, a mixture of both Norman and Irish, laughing when they tripped and collapsed into a grassy heap. Sir Anselm walked beside Sosanna, offering her his arm and letting her take a slower pace.
