Brighit followed the woman up a ladder at the far end of room. The small area was cozy, cut off from the few stairs by a heavy tapestry that was short enough to let in the heat from the fire below.
“Ursula will bring some fresh water for your ablutions.”
“My thanks.”
Alone in the room, Brighit tucked her little weapon beneath the pallet that sat on the floor, hilt side out. Peter knew she had it and didn’t take it from her. Mayhap he understood her need for protection. He told her she needed to be more careful in what she said. Had he kissed her because she gave the wrong answer? It did not feel like a lesson on protecting herself.
She placed her cold palms against her flushed face. The longing deep inside was still there. She wanted him closer. Even now. She had never felt like this about a man... about anything.
Brighit stretched across the stiff straw mattress. It crunched beneath her. She placed her palms over her breasts, imagining they were Peter’s strong hands. Remembering the look of appreciation in his eyes. She would dream of him tonight. In her dream, she could be brazen. She would take him into her bed, as naked and splendid as he’d looked by the loch. He would hold her against his hard body and have his way with her. And she’d have her way with him. She’d know what it was to be a woman. Then she would wake up and continue her journey to the Priory where woman did not think of such things.
Peter rested his elbow on his bent leg, rubbing his lip with his thumb. His thoughts remained with the woman who slept soundlessly in the bed that should have been his. She had certainly ignited a fire in him.
Whatever you think best.
He’d only hoped to put a little fear in her. Her tight-lipped kiss and rigid body spoke of her lack of experience. He should have behaved better, released her, and explained why her answer was asking for trouble. Instead he became acutely aware of the way her breasts flattened against him. He could still feel her nipples hardening into nubs, pressing into his chest. His mouth watered with the need to take that generous peak into his mouth. Her scent drifted to him as it seemed to shift from fear to desire. It intoxicated him. He needed to have her. So he coaxed, encouraged, seduced with his mouth, tongue, hands. She didn’t slap him or shove him away but inch by inch she responded. Leaning into him. Opening up to him. When he rubbed against her, revealing his hardened need, her hips pressed closer. He ached to rip off that unbecoming sack—her disguise—and stroke her silky skin, grasp her buttocks with both hand to yank her even closer, and touch her core to see if she was as wet and ready as she seemed. It took every ounce of his control to draw back. Her disappointed moan nearly called his bluff.
Damn.
He was not being a protector of the woman but a defiler! As bad as Ivan with his vicious mouth. What she needed was his protection. Protect her from himself, more correctly. Or perhaps protect her from herself. He needed to keep his guard up. That was plain to see. The only way to do that would be to keep his passion in check and see her safely within the Priory walls. The latter would be hoped for continuously but the former would require a huge amount of restraint. Planning to practice just that restraint, Peter didn’t get a bit of sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Bleary eyed, Peter staggered toward the rain barrel at the far side of the small inn’s yard. The anvils in his head rang out with every step. Animals bleating and pecking all around him made sleep impossible. The other men were dead to the world.
“God bless you.” He spat the words.
He stilled. He stretched, scratching at the stiffness in his crotch. Wasn’t he going to see someone about that?
Unbidden, the dreams came back to him. His own warm bed and his love splayed out before him. Him taking his time, his hands overflowing with her generous assets, sucking at her tightened nipples. Stroking her warm, wet treasures, delving inside, his hand wet with her moisture. Her moans of pleasure. Whispered promises of love and faithfulness. Suddenly it was Brighit’s face, her smile of pleasure, shifting into Jeanette’s face—smiling with dark, sunken hollows for eyes. The ghastly scream still sounded in his ears.
Peter doused his head in the ice cold water, then whipped his hair out of his face. He sloshed his hand down his face. Why would he be dreaming of Brighit? Jeanette was the usual bed partner of his dreams. His own personal hell. Now the future nun was haunting him? It was going to be a long day. The light burst over the hills and he had to shade his eyes from the onslaught. Stumbling, he made his way into the still darkened hall of the inn.
He plopped on the bench, his head in his hands. Whatever happened to the wench he’d asked for? Ah, yes. Lady Brighit got a servant and he got aching balls.
A bench creaked nearby and he lifted his head. The vision before him had long, red hair and a very revealing red gown that seemed to be lacking its under dress. Red. The color for whores.
“My lord?” she spoke in a seductive whisper.
“Ah, the missing wench.” His cock jerked to attention.
Her smile was sheer enticement.
“Come here.” Peter adjusted his legs and patted his now accessible lap.
She closed the distance and sat sideways on his lap to face him, pressing her breast against him. The opening at her neck ran down to her belly. He slipped his hand inside. Her breasts were small, without much life to them. She met his lips. Her tongue seemed too rough and he pulled back.
“Easy.” He rubbed his palm along her nipple, tugging it, purling it into a hard little nub. Brushing aside the material, he took it into his mouth with a hard tug. She squirmed on his lap.
He withdrew again. “Have you never done this before?”
“I heard you liked virgins.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“The innkeeper’s wife.”
The sole witness to his advances on Brighit. The memory of Brighit’s body shifting from tentativeness into passionate eagerness shot straight to his groin. The innkeeper’s wife had come to the same conclusion as Peter. She was indeed a virgin. Ivan had absolutely no basis for insinuating anything else. That would come to an end this day.
