Bartholomew had to know as much, but he appeared to be untroubled. His chemise was open and he had shed his boots. His chemise covered him to his thighs, which she found encouraging, and she could see the tanned flesh of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, and he smiled at her, as if knowing her trepidation. The light from the lantern painted him in shades of gold. She had never seen a more alluring man, noble or common.
“You must be cold, wife,” he said. “Come and let me warm you.”
A part of Anna longed to do just that.
The greater part of her was more sensible. She would not begin what she could not halt. She would not give encouragement to any urges. She eased into the bed, ensuring that she was at the foot of it. She placed the crossbow on the mattress between them. It was not loaded, but still she thought its presence would make her feelings clear.
Indeed, Bartholomew smiled. He lifted the bedclothes and patted the mattress beside himself. “Come and be warm,” he invited again. When he leaned forward, Anna saw his shadow on the closed curtains on the far side of the bed.
Would the silhouette be visible to anyone watching from the other room?
He beckoned to her, the motion of his finger clearly displayed on the drapery. Anna crawled toward the empty spot beside him and saw how it appeared that she moved into his embrace. He rolled over, as if pinning her beneath him, though in truth they were alongside each other and not touching at all. “Oh, my lady,” he murmured, then kissed the pillow and moaned in pleasure. He embraced the pillow in apparent rapture.
Anna had to bite back a giggle. He did mean to trick Lady Marie!
And he did not touch her, just as he had pledged. Relief flooded through her.
He winked at her and moaned again. “My lady, how I have longed for you this day!”
“My lord!” she replied in kind, his game restoring her confidence. “Cease your chatter and kiss me!”
Bartholomew dropped his face to the pillow to smother his chuckles. Again, he embraced it with ardor. Anna clapped a hand over her mouth and had to avert her gaze from his dancing eyes when he braced himself on his hands. The shadow made it appear that he was looking down at her.
“Have you lost your passion for me, my lady?” he asked as if perplexed. “Methinks you are uncommonly shy this night. Do you yearn for another?”
“Nay, my lord. Never!”
“Then what is amiss, wife of mine?” he growled. “Tell me what I can do to feed your pleasure.”
Anna shivered at the intent in his tone. “I prefer such deeds be done in darkness, sir,” she dared to say.
“The sisters cannot see you now.”
“But I, sir, fear to look upon nudity.”
“Your every wish is my command,” Bartholomew replied, then leaned out of the bed. He licked his fingers and pinched the wick on the lantern. The flame hissed as it was extinguished, then they were plunged into darkness.
Anna had a moment to fear that she had erred, then Bartholomew groaned anew. She could not feel him or even his heat, and knew there was distance between them.
“Oh!” he cried. “Oh!” He began to move so that the mattress rocked, and Anna blushed in the darkness at the familiarity of the rhythm he set.
She had heard that sound many a time, to be sure.
But it was an illusion, and she should do her part to help.
“Oh!” Anna gasped, ensuring her cries were in time. She had heard her mother cry out thus and tried to mimic the memory. “Oh, oh,oh!” The ploy felt ridiculous to her and she feared she did it badly.
But Bartholomew seemed to understand. He seized her hand, the warmth of his fingers closing over hers. “Slower then faster again,” he whispered, his voice close to her ear. “’Twould not be mortal to endure long at this rate.” Then he raised his voice to a roar. “My lady, you will ensure my demise this night! Oh, oh, OH!”
Anna giggled. She could not help it. The notion that she might kill him with passion was as preposterous as his performance.
Then she had to account for the sound she had made. “Sir! That is a treacherous tickle!”
Bartholomew laughed. “Atop me, my lady,” he commanded. “I will show you a treacherous tickle.”
He began to rock again, his motions making the bed thump against the floor. He grunted and groaned with his apparent pleasure, then gave her fingers a quick squeeze.
She had to say something or make a similar sound.
