To Marmaduke’s great annoyance, the only eyes to greet him from the shadowy recess of his lady’s bed proved round and accusatory. Definitely not the sapphire ones he’d hoped to find, their blue depths heavy-lidded and drowsed with sleep.
Nor did the low rumbles coming from deep in Leo’s chest ring anywhere near as sweet as the soft gasp of surprise he’d expected to hear upon easing back the bed curtains.
Soon, very soon, though, she’d enchant him with sated sighs.
Of that, he’d make certain.
But first he had to find her, and preferably without the aid of her wee shadow.
“My apologies, little man, but I do not wish your unswerving regard while I seek to win your lady’s favor.” Leaning forward, he returned Leo’s bristly glare with a glower of his own.
“If you are wise, you will go back to sleep and dream of four-legged bits of fluff and leave your fair mistress to me,” he added, closing the bed curtains on the tiny creature’s bared teeth and snarls.
The glare or his advice must’ve worked, for thick silence issued from behind the drawn curtains. Well, quiet and the muffled rustlings of the wee beastie making himself comfortable again.
Satisfied, Marmaduke turned his back on the bed and his soon-to-be-slumbering nemesis.
At last…
Nothing but the chill night air stood between him and his first true attempt to introduce his bride-to-be to the mysteries and enchantment of the love he hoped to share with her.
Even his demons had been routed for the night, soundly banished by his strong desire not to let anything stop him from winning at least one sweet sigh of pleasure from his lady’s tender lips.
His vision now accustomed to the dimness of the sparsely lit chamber, he searched the shadows and quickly found her, her refuge in the window embrasure revealed when the hiss and crackle of the nearby cresset lamp’s guttering wicks drew his attention.
The bronze lamp swung on its chain, its sputtering flames casting odd patterns onto the walls of the little alcove. She huddled on the cushioned seat, a furred skin tucked around her legs, herarisaidgathered loosely about her shoulders, the whole of her bathed in the silver glow of a crescent moon.
She faced the night-darkened sea, her back conveniently turned his way – the same back she’d favored several times during their toil in the cove earlier that day.
A back he knew must still ache from exertion.
The excuse he needed to touch her.
His smile returned, this time with a decidedly wicked slant.
Drawn by a powerful urge to put all the years of empty nights behind him – and slay a few of her dragons as well – he crossed the rushes until he stood a scant heartbeat behind her.
Scarce daring to breathe, so loudly did his blood pound with need, it took him a moment to recognize the roar in his ears not as his own, but as the muted thunder coming through the opened window - the rhythmic crash of waves breaking against the rocks far below.
Trying not to even think of rejection, he flexed his fingers and heaved a deep breath to strengthen the hope in his heart.
Then, feeling much the benighted heathen out to achieve his goals by any means, fair or foul, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
He kneaded the tension there, much affected by the moonlit wonder of her, distracted by the warm silk of her braids brushing against the backs of his fingers.
“My lady,” he said, his voice roughened. “Does this please you?”
“Aye,” she said, stirring. Then she gifted him with the soft sigh he’d hoped for as he’d made the winding climb to her chamber. She delighted him further by twisting around to give him a sleepy smile.
“Thank you,” she said, and lifted her braids out of the way, leaving his fingers aching to reclaim them, then surprising him even more by shrugging herarisaidoff her shoulders. “I am a bit sore.”
“You worked hard this day,” he returned, wondering if she’d been aware of his presence in the room.
If she’d perhaps caught his whispered words to Leo?
He didn’t know. But he did see her shift on the bench’s cushioned seat. She angled her back toward him, and then bent her head forward to free more of her neck and shoulders to the hopefully-soothing strokes of his massaging fingers.
“You are surprised I seek your touch.” The softly spoken words were a statement.
