“She was a child. I did what I could to save her.” She lowered her gaze, wishing the ghosts of the other prisoners didn’t weigh down upon her. She’d been unable to save all of them.
His mouth came to rest upon her hand, and his warm breath caught her without warning. “You gave me my freedom that night.”
“You didn’t look like a man who deserved death,” she whispered. “You looked like one in need of mercy.”
“I didn’t deserve mercy. I expected to die.” He rolled to his stomach, his face buried against the mattress.
I’m glad you didn’t.But she couldn’t voice those words. Pulling back, she swallowed hard. “Can you . . . remove the cloak? I want to look at your back and apply a salve to your wounds.”
Finian removed the garment, baring his shoulders. When he turned over, she saw the carved lines of his upper back, the broad strength that he’d kept hidden. His flesh was not as pale as Robert’s, and she supposed Finian was a man accustomed to the harsh conditions here.
The lash marks weren’t as deep as she’d thought, and the bleeding had dried up. She washed his skin, and he jerked at the cool water.
“I’ll hurry,” she promised, swabbing gently at the lash marks. Then she made a thick salve from the herbs and pressed it against his back. She tried not to hurt him, smoothing the mixture into the wounds.
When it was done, she wiped her hands with linen. “Try to sleep now. You need to get warm again.”
“My daughter—” he protested.
“My maid is with her. But if you want me to, I’ll go and stay with Iliana.”
He closed his eyes. “Is she well?”
“She’s gone to sleep. Just as you should.”
He sent her a baleful look. “My dreams have troubled me for as long as I can remember. Sleep doesn’t come easily.”
“Then I’ll stay with you for a little while,” she offered. He looked so ragged and lost, she supposed it would do no harm. With her fingers, she brushed the edges of his eyelids, drawing them closed. “Sleep, Finian.”
He took a breath, but she could see the tension weighing him down. Right now his body needed rest in order to heal. Though it went against her instincts, she lay down beside him with her hand holding his. “It’s all right.”
Her presence did seem to soothe him. But what she hadn’t expected was how her body seemed to sink into the mattress, the arms of sleep drawing her near.
There’s no harm in it, she thought. Not if she closed her eyes for a moment or two.
Alysfeltsowarm,cocooned within a man’s arms. Not Robert’s—no, these arms were strong. The spicy scent of male skin was calming instead of threatening. This man was holding her, his skin growing warmer by the minute. Her dreams stumbled against the wall of reality, but she wasn’t ready to wake up. Not yet.
Somehow she was beneath the coverlet, and the man’s hips were pressed against her. Her woolen gown was loose, and a sudden tension filled her up inside when his arousal pressed against her bottom. It wasn't fear that held her captive . . . but a strange feeling of longing. Before she could open her eyes, he touched her back, reaching beneath the gown to caress her bare skin. Gentle and strong, he held her close while his mouth came to kiss her neck.
Finian was touching her in his sleep. Alys knew she had to move away, but the moment she tried, his hand slid beneath her gown, drawing it from her shoulders until she was bared to the waist. His hand reached over and cupped the fullness of her breast. Instantly, her nipple grew taut, and the heat spiraled through her, down between her legs. She was caught between the tantalizing sensations and her need to leave.
Just a moment longer, her body pleaded. She’d never been caressed like this before. It was as if Finian were reverencing her body, touching her with the intent of drawing out the buried feelings of desire. She was accustomed to her husband groping her, and never before had she felt this way.
It was wrong. So very wrong.
And yet her eyes clouded up with tears as she remained motionless. She ought to pull away, to preserve her virtue. But the hurtful four years had taken their toll, and she resented her husband for making their marriage bed such a miserable place.
Finian wasn’t touching her with the intent to hurt her; instead, his fingers were gentle and deeply arousing. She bit her lip when his fingertips slid over her nipples, stroking her breast while his mouth tasted her nape.
But then his hands reached lower, raising the fabric of her gown. Against her naked bottom, he pressed the length of his arousal while his hand parted her legs.
A gasp was trapped in her throat, her body growing wet and aching. Finian was speaking in Gaelic, a hushed whisper of words.
His hand moved to the silken curls that guarded her womanhood, seeking the moisture that lay within. Against her spine, she felt him move, his shaft warm and firm. When his fingers moved to her sensitive flesh, she couldn’t stop the cry that emitted from her throat. Enfolded in his arms, she was helpless to escape while he explored her folds.
“Finian,” she whispered in desperation. It seemed that he wanted to make love with her, to penetrate her flesh with his when they hardly knew one another. “Wake up,” she pleaded.
She started to move away, but at that moment, his fingers took a nipple between them, rolling it like a precious pearl. Between her legs, he echoed the sensation, barely touching the hooded flesh above her entrance.
