Thrilled, Annavieve came away from the window, her face a mask of surprise and elation. The fact that he had called her by her given name didn’t even occur to her; she was utterly focused on his invitation to show her what no one had even shown her. He was about to show her a whole new world.
“Truly?” she asked, awed. “We will go dance?”
He nodded. “Do you know how?”
She shook her head, bursting into laughter. “I do not know the first thing about it,” she said, her smiling face glowing. “But I am more than willing to learn if you will teach me, my lord.”
He was feeling far more than the warmth of the wine at the moment. He was feeling the warmth of her. “Kevin,” he murmured. “When we are in private, you will address me as Kevin. Please.”
Annavieve could feel the warmth, too. It was swirling all around them, enveloping them, and binding them. It took her breath away.
“Kevin,” she repeated softly.
A soft, gentle smile crossed Kevin’s lips as he gazed down upon her. “Give me a moment to remove this mail and we shall proceed,” he said. “One cannot dance in mail.”
Annavieve grinned broadly as the man proceeded to strip off his armor, leaving him in a stained tunic, leather breeches, and big boots. He was dirty, and mildly drunk, but to Annavieve, he looked like pure heaven. When he reached out to take her hand,she gladly offered it and, together, they headed down to the street where All Hallows Eve was in full swing.
It was a night they would both remember, forever.
CHAPTER TEN
The first thingAnnavieve was aware of was someone touching her shoulder. It was a gentle brush, like butterfly wings, but it was most definitely a touch. Roused from a sound sleep by this gentle, delicate touch, she stirred, opening her eyes to see that it was barely dawn. There was some light coming in through the broken shutters, but not much. The moment she moved, however, a big hand rolled her onto her back.
Kevin was on her, covering her with his warm, naked body. He smelled of leather, of the leather breeches he wore, because the smell of the tanned leather somehow rubbed off on his skin. Still half-asleep, Annavieve inhaled the scent, finding it new and exciting and overwhelming. As Kevin’s mouth latched onto a tender nipple, Annavieve closed her eyes and gave herself over to him completely. Truthfully, there was nothing else she could do.
As his hands roamed her body, gentle yet confident, Annavieve’s sleep-hazed mind drifted to the previous night. Kevin had taken her to the festival in the street and they had stood for several minutes near the entry to the tavern, watching the frolicking going on. It all seemed like great fun. She had soaked in the atmosphere, and the happy people, realizing she had seen very little happiness at the convent. They had beenthere to serve God and nothing else; therefore, witnessing such unbridled joy had been something of an experience for her. Thoughts of the previous night brought a smile to her lips.
Torn between wanting to participate and being content to watch, she had been pulled into a line of frolicking women when they danced past her. Squealing, she had been dragged along with the group as they danced to the merry flute player. Twice, she caught sight of Kevin as he stood where she had left him, near the tavern. He was laughing at her. Her heart had swelled at the sight; there had been something so joyful in his laughter.
Kevin’s mouth was now moving down her torso and Annavieve instinctively parted her legs, knowing he was seeking her warm, sensitive core. Her hands went to his head, timidly, where he was letting his dark hair grow in. It was actually filling in quite a bit and she ran her fingers along his scalp, tentatively. His head felt soft and fuzzy. As he began to lick at her pink folds, she groaned with pleasure, her mind drifting to more scenes from the previous night.
After she’d been pulled around by the cavorting women, Kevin came out to take her from the throng. Someone had handed him a mask, or perhaps he’d even taken one off of someone, because he’d had a mask made of fabric and feathers over his eyes as he’d taken her hand and led her over to a group of couples who were dancing to a man who was beating on a drum and singing a song about birds in the spring. She’d had no idea what to do in the couples’ dance but Kevin had talked her through it the first several steps and, quickly, she caught on. The rest of the dance was spent holding Kevin’s hands as he led her through her paces. It had been the most wonderful experience she’d ever had.
He was mounting her now, gently pushing her legs further apart as he entered her wet and waiting body. Annavieveflinched slightly as his thick, heavy phallus pushed into her, sore from the day before, but she welcomed his sensual intrusion as he began to thrust in and out of her. Her hands, so recently on his head, went around his neck as he lay atop her and gathered her into his arms. It seemed right to her to hold him tightly as he pounded into her sweet, supple body, and her lips, next to his ear, thought to kiss him. It simply seemed like the correct thing to do. The moment she did so, however, he lifted his head from the crook of her neck and slanted his hungry mouth over hers.
Someone had brought out pieces of a kissing bush the night before. Usually reserved for the Christmas festival, the Twelve-Days celebration, little green springs of the kissing bush made the rounds as they had danced and Kevin had been handed a piece. He had looked at the green leaves for a moment, as had Annavieve, and she had fully expected him to refuse them. Instead, he’d reached out to take the greenery and held it up, over their heads. As Annavieve’s heart had thumped painfully against her breast in anticipation of what was to come, Kevin had leaned over and kissed her, very sweetly, on the cheek. Then, he’d handed the piece of the bush off to someone else and they continued with their dancing. He’d held her hand tightly the rest of the night, never letting her go, not once.
His thrusting was increasing in pace and his kisses against her mouth were deep and passionate. Annavieve could do nothing more than eagerly respond to him, having no idea how to take the lead or become aggressive. All she could do was submit to his power and mimic his actions, suckling his lips as he was suckling hers. She could feel a fire burning in her loins, a sensation that made her want to open her legs wider and rub herself against him. As the heat built, she did just that; her legs spread open, greater than before, and she began to match him thrust for thrust. As he came down, she came up, and the friction between them sparked wildly when their bodies met.
The dancing had gone very late. It had been the most wonderful thing she could have imagined, being escorted through dance after dance by the massive knight who was surprisingly light on his feet. He had twirled her, or spun her around, or threw her up over his head as the drum beat and the man sang. He’d seemed to be having a marvelous time, too, because at one point when he pulled her close because the dance called for such a thing, his lips were by her ear and he sang softly in beat to the drum:
“A young man came to Tilly Nodden,
His heart so full and pure.
Upon the step of Tilly Nodden,
His wants would find no cure.
Aye! Tilly, Tilly, my goddess near,
Can ye spare me a glance from those eyes?
My Tilly, sweet Tilly, be my lover so dear,
I’m a-wantin’ a slap of those thighs!
Then our young man, his life less grand,
