When Nigel tugged off her shirt she found the need to let go of him almost painful. The moment he tossed it aside she clung to him again and greedily returned his kiss. As long as she could hold him, she did not think, only felt, and that, she realized, was exactly how she wanted it.
He covered her body in kisses and gentle caresses, and she welcomed each one. She moved her hands over his broad back, loving the feel of his smooth, taut skin beneath her fingers. It felt almost as good to touch Nigel as it felt to have him touch her. Gisele wished she knew more, had gained some skill so that she could give Nigel as much pleasure as he was giving her.
A small interruption in her heedless revel in passion came when Nigel removed his braies. He rested his long body full against hers. Gisele felt his engorged manhood pressed against her thigh, and fought against letting even one of her dark memories intrude upon her desire, but it was difficult. Kisses and caresses had been easy to slowly accept without fear, though her husband had given her few of either, and never a gentle one. This, however, was something she recognized, something she had always associated with hurt and shame. It was going to be a little hard to make herself believe that the same part of a man which had always been used as a weapon against her could now be a source of pleasure. She feared that all the sweetness she had just tasted was about to turn very sour.
Nigel felt the faint tension in Gisele’s body and fought the urge to just take her before fear could make her change her mind. It was not only wrong, but such an act could easily convince her that all of her fears were justified. There was even a chance that he could add to that fear, for it would be much akin to what her husband had subjected her to. The mere thought of such a consequence gave him the restraint he sought. He cupped her face in his hands, smiling faintly at how tightly she kept her eyes shut.
“Look at me, Gisele,” he commanded softly, and brushed a tender kiss across her mouth.
“I am not sure I wish to.”
“Come, look at me. See with your own eyes who is about to love you. If ye keep your bonny eyes shut, I fear memory may overcome fact.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes, pushing her shyness aside as she recognized the wisdom of his reasoning. Her fears had been slowly coming to life, stirred by the feel of something every man possessed. She did need to put a face to the man who held her.
It angered her that she could grow so senseless with fear over something she could destroy with one quick slash of her dagger, something that was, in a battle situation, considered one of a man’s weak points. If she were going to be afraid of some part of a man, it made more sense to be afraid of his hands or of his sword arm, parts that could so easily kill her. To deny that fear was foolish, however, and could easily put an end to something she was enjoying a great deal.
“There. I am looking at you,” she said, hearing the sulkiness in her voice despite the huskiness that still deepened it.
Nigel ignored her touch of ill humor, for he could still hear the passion in her voice, feel it in the faint trembling of her lithe body, and see it in the flush upon her smooth, high-boned cheeks. “Ye need not fear the manhood, lassie, only the mon who wields it.” As he spoke, he settled himself between her slim thighs.
“I know that. In my mind, I truly do know that most of the time.”
“Then keep your eyes open, my sweet French rose, so that your mind and heart can remember it. Keep them wide open, so that bastard’s memory cannae rise up to destroy what we can share.”
Gisele nodded and curled her arms around his neck, keeping her gaze firmly fixed upon his face even as he covered her face with slow, gentle kisses. She tensed as he eased into her, but realized that it was more with anticipation than with fear. A soft gasp of pleasured surprise escaped her when he began to move within her, and a heartbeat later passion robbed her of all ability to think clearly. She only knew whose body was joined with hers, knew Nigel would never intentionally hurt her, and knew she wanted him to continue.
Suddenly, a rich feeling began to blossom within her, a feeling that was both wondrous and made her somewhat desperate. She clung to Nigel, wrapping her arms and legs around him. She could hear him mumbling husky words of encouragement, and then a blinding wave of intense feeling swept over her and she cried out his name. Gisele was only faintly aware of how the man she held so tightly began to move more fiercely, then tensed, shuddered, and called out to her. It was several long minutes before she realized he had slumped in her arms, resting his full weight on top of her.
“You are a little heavy,” she whispered, smiling faintly as he eased the intimacy of their embrace and moved to the side.
“Are ye all right, Gisele?” he asked in a soft voice.
It puzzled Gisele a little that she should feel so tired, so compelled to sleep, but moments after she had felt so alive. “I am much fine, thank you, Sir Nigel.”
Nigel laughed. “Verrafine, and dinnae ye think ye can call me simply Nigel now?”
“Then I am very fine, simply Nigel.”
He laughed again and shook his head when he saw that she was already sound asleep. Carefully, even though he doubted he could wake her, he turned onto his back and tucked her up against his side. He was eager to make love to her again, but knew that it was best if she got some sleep.
Although it felt good to know he had been the man to put her fears to rest and stir her passion, Nigel knew what moved him most was that she had willingly shared that with him. He did not fear that she would have any regrets or recriminations in the morning. Instinct told him that Gisele was not the type to suffer much from either, not when she had chosen to do something.
He would probably be the one who was suffering from doubts and uncertainties. He was already beginning to feel guilty. Nigel could not recall if he had ever found lovemaking so exciting or fulfilling, yet he could not be completely sure why that was. He certainly could not offer Gisele any promises, more than sweet words of passion and flattery, at least not until he knew his own heart better than he did now. She had said that she asked for no vows or words of love, but he felt she deserved far more than he was offering.
As he closed his eyes, Nigel decided they would linger in the glade for a little while, a day or two. He felt sure they had distanced themselves from the DeVeaux hounds enough to allow for a short respite. Perhaps, as they rested and took time to savor the passion they shared, he would be able to sort through the confusion in his mind and heart. Gisele deserved at least that much for the gift she had shared with him.
Eleven
Passion drew Gisele from her sleep and thrust her into pleasure. She returned Nigel’s hungry kiss as he slowly joined their bodies. Her greed for him surprised her, but she let it have full reign. It all felt too good to question. She arched her body toward his, eagerly meeting his every thrust. As her desire crested she clutched at his trim hips and pulled him deeper within her, savoring the way his cries of pleasure echoed hers.
It was not until he eased the intimacy of their embrace that she began to feel the touch of embarrassment and uncertainty. This was not the way she had been taught a young woman of good breeding should act. She was breaking so many rules, of society and of the church, that it made her head spin. There had been some excuse, albeit a thin one, for allowing the first lovemaking. She felt she could be forgiven curiosity and the need to cast aside the fears her husband had bred in her heart. Now, however, there was only one reason to continue, and that was because she enjoyed it. That carried the distasteful taint of behaving like a whore.
“Regrets?” Nigel asked, a little concerned about the dark frown growing on Gisele’s still flushed face.
She finally looked at him and grimaced. “I was battling with a few.”
“And have ye vanquished them?”
