“And from the looks of it, you’re about the make yours!” an ale-slurred voice rose from a nearby table, the ribald shout breaking the thick tension in the dais end of the hall.
Darkness slid from his men’s faces as well, as, at once, all manner of well-meant jesting and bawdish hollers rose to the smoke-blackened rafters.
“Ale and wine will flow freely late into the night,” Sir Marmaduke called out, his commanding voice lifting about the din. “Partake and enjoy.”
Then, lacing his fingers with Caterine’s, he raised their linked hands for all to see. “My lady and I have other plans, and bid you a good night.”
Caterine stood motionless beside him, her breath catching when he lowered their hands and swept her high into his arms. Gladly, she surrendered to the flickers of heated excitement rippling through her now that the long evening was about to come to an end.
Or, better said, begin.
I shall kiss you there, her champion had said.
Her worries momentarily forgotten, a tiny smile curved her lips as he carried her from the hall.
Kiss herthere.
Devour her.
A delicious tremor rippled through her at the thought. And he’d voiced concern she wouldn’t let him.
Trembling with need even now, she sighed and began counting each step of their circuitous climb up the winding turnpike stair.
Let him, indeed.
She could scarce wait.
Chapter 41
“Will you truly?”
The three words, whisper-soft but smoldering with the smooth, dark heat of a woman on the verge of passion, ripped into Marmaduke with all the force of a howling winter wind.
Blasting not cold, but pure, molten heat straight into his loins.
Halfway down the dimly lit passage to his lady wife’s bedchamber, he halted once, angling her in his arms so the flickering light of a nearby wall torch could better illuminate her face.
Not that he didn’t already know what she meant.
Nor what a tempting sweetmeat she was – he’d already tasted her once, if fleetingly.
This time he meant to sate himself on her.
Indeed, he knew what she wanted with every fiber of his body, every beat of his smitten heart.
It was writ all over her.
She met his gaze full on, her excitement almost shimmering in the air between them, the lush swell of her breasts rising and falling with a rapidity that didn’t lie.
The perfect bride of the beast.
“Will I what?” he spoke at last, amazed he could push the words past the tightness in his throat – thewantcoursing through him. His feelings for her, almost a living beast rising inside him, claiming every shred of his flesh and bone, consuming his soul.
“Tell me, sweeting.” He caressed her face, traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb – and waited, silently willing her to voice her desire.
She blinked, clearly delving for courage. “Will you truly kiss me there?” she finally blurted.
“Where, my love?” devils made him ask as he set off again, this time great-strided, eager to reach her quarters and the bliss awaiting them there.
