“But, as this shows, you are lord here and they need not my permission for anything.”
Sebastien approached and took her hands in his, holding them firmly as if he suspected she would withdraw them from his grasp. “You are lady here and in charge of the women. She is your maid, Lara. I would never give her permission when it is your place to do so.”
“My place?” He confused her constantly with his attitude. “But you are lord here now,” she repeated, trying to convince herself more than him.
“Aye, and you are Lady of Dunstaffnage. All you have to do is take your place at my side to make it so.”
“Your words make it sound as though it is easily done.”
“’Tis not easy, Lara. But it is your place and I would have you there.”
Standing with him, as he offered her everything she had truly wanted in her life, she could not find the strength to refuse. Her throat tightened and she could not get the words out. He opened his arms to her and she stood and walked into his embrace.
She felt his strength surround her, and for the first time, allowed herself to feel some bit of hope that this could all work out between them. Lara felt his hands tangle in her hair, and slid hers around his waist, holding him as he held her. Laying her head on his chest, she listened, or rather felt, his heart beating strongly there. His body was all hard muscle beneath her hands, and she allowed some of his strength to seep into her, into her heart and soul.
After a few minutes, he freed her hair and leaned away. Her body reacted on its own, following his direction to keep him close. He chuckled under his breath and untangled himself from her hold. “Come. It has been an arduous day for you. ’Tis time to rest.”
He took her hand and led her to the bench where she’d been sitting until Margaret left. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her away and she felt his fingers move to the laces tied at her neck. With swift, nimble movements, he loosened them all the way down the back of her tunic. When she thought he would lift it over her head, he instead whispered in her ear from his place behind her.
“Do you know what the Church calls this style of tunic you wear?” She shook her head. “The gates that lead men to hell.”
Lara looked down at the garment. “Truly?”
“Truly. One bishop in England has declared it a sin for women to wear it for it tempts men to lust and fornication.”
Lara felt ill-informed and unable to figure out how a tunic and gown that covered every inch of her skin and her form could be a temptation to anyone. “You jest, my lord.”
“Allow me to show you. Since we are married, it will not be too great a sin for me.” There was teasing in his voice, but heat, too.
She gave him the permission he sought, and felt his hands begin at her shoulders and slide down her arms until he reached her elbows. She could still see no sin in this touch. Then he slipped his hands inside the tunic, where it hung open under her arms. With his palms, he stroked her belly and nearly touched her breasts, but did not. Then his hands moved softly over the tops of her thighs and nearly touched the juncture of them, but did not.
Heat grew within her, spreading from his hands into her belly and breasts and that place between her legs. Over and over he teased her until she writhed under his touch. Pressed against his body, she could feel the proof of his lust and hear it in his breathing. Still he did not touch her as she wanted him to. Lara was about to beg him when he released her. Even that was a teasing, for he slid his hands slowly away from the places that tingled and ached for more, until the tips of his fingers barely glided over her.
“And that is why the Church decries this kind of tunic. Even you can see the danger to men’s souls if they are subjected to this kind of—” he did touch her then, reaching under the edge of the fabric and cupping her breasts in his hands “—temptation every waking moment of the day.”
“I had no idea of it, my lord,” she said in a voice that exposed her own sin of lust. “No idea at all.”
All he had to do was take her. She would not resist him if he wanted to finish it now. Indeed, her body, heated by his sinful caresses, was ready—hot and wet and willing.
And, as was his custom, he did not.
Sebastien moved his hands down her legs now, grasped the bottom of the tunic and lifted it over her head. Flinging it over the bench, he began working on the laces at her shoulders to loosen her sleeves. She waited for him to do something, attempt some provocative touch, but none came. A few minutes later, after removing the sleeves, he slid the gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
When she was dressed in only the sheer chemise she wore under her gowns, he turned her to face him. His desire for her, plainly written on his face, encouraged her own. But she was not as naive as he thought her to be.
“I know your methods now, my lord. You have some experience in the ways of the flesh and are teaching my bodyyourways while hoping I do not notice.”
He laughed and nodding, admitted it. “Am I succeeding in my attempts, my lady?”
Then, when she would have liked to deny him his victory, he untied his own tunic and pulled it over his head. His shirt was next, revealing the wide expanse of his muscular chest to her sight, and then his fingers reached for the laces on his trews.
“You triumphed weeks ago, Sebastien. I just did not know it.” She admitted the truth to him now. “You have pushed me to the edge of my own control and have won the battle. I hope it pleases you.”
He stopped and looked at her. His wicked smile spoke of his satisfaction in this battle of wills and wants. “Oh, lady, I am most pleased.” But instead of reaching for her as she expected, he walked to the bed and pulled the blankets loose. “Come, the room cools and the bed will be much warmer for us.”
Lara took the hand he offered, climbed onto the bed and slid over to the side where she usually found herself upon awakening. Sebastien turned away to tug off his trews, and then put out the candles that still burned and banked the fire in the hearth. She stared in fascination at the way his thighs and back flexed as he walked and how the color of his skin changed at his waist. Above was tanned from being in the sun; below was paler from not.
She noticed his reaction when he faced her; that part of him she’d felt against her back now stood straight up. He would fill the empty place in her that she had never even realized existed. In more ways than simply the physical way, he would satisfy her needs. “It is hard,” were the only words she could think to say.
