“I know many old songs,” she replied, and he laughed, a low seductive sound. For a brief, shaken moment Briar wondered if she could go through with it.
Have you waited so long just to turn tail now? she asked herself angrily, first because something in his looks tugs at your womanly emotions, just because his kisses are not as repulsive as you expected. Remember, this is the man who stole from you the life you loved. He deserves to be punished. Whether you enjoy the punishment or not is immaterial.
But these were things Briar had never expected to feel in such circumstances—pleasure, desire, need. She had lain with a man. Once. Two years ago. There had been no pleasure then. The memory was a montage of pain and sorrow, and she fully expected this night to be similar. That so far it was not had unsettled her, momentarily distracted her, but now she stiffened her resolve and set doubts aside. She would do this, she would...
But he must have seen something in her face. When she met his eyes again, they were even more intense than before. And there was a new reserve about him, as if he no longer quite believed in her.
“Drink,” she urged him softly, pouring more wine into his goblet and handing it to him.
He took the vessel from her, but did not drink. Perhaps he no longer trusted her enough to do so. The shadows played games with his face, making him more handsome than he really was, smoothing out the irregular features and straightening the broken nose. His hair grew in wild, untrimmed curls about his face, and the wolf-skin cloak added to his barbaric appearance. This was not a man who played games, and if she did this thing now—and later betrayed him to his lady—then he might very well kill her.
Despite herself, Briar shivered.
“You are cold.”
That deep, quiet murmur; the voice of a Norman knight of breeding and education. Such was Radulf. A great man.
And yet do not be deceived, she reminded herself. Do not fall under his spell. Remember the injury he has done you. Remember and take your vengeance and find your justice, even if it is two years too late. Do not lose sight of what you have set out to do here tonight.
“What is your name, demoiselle?”
“Briar,” she said, knowing he would not recognize it. Why should he? She was nothing to him, and two years ago she had been but a girl, kept safe on her father’s estate, content with her present and her future, not realizing that soon her world would be destroyed. Again the memory sobered her, strengthened her.
He was still watching her through the shadows; his eyes so intent, it felt as if they were inside her head.
“Briar. ‘Tis a prickly name, demoiselle. Are you thorny like the wild briar?”
Briar smiled, hoping he would not read its falseness. She reached down with a trembling hand and began to unknot her girdle.
“I am tough like the briar, sir. Even when my enemies think me vanquished, I can spring up again in the most unlikely of places.”
She had amused him, mayhap even delighted him—she read it in his eyes.
“And yet you sing like a nightingale.”
“You are kind.” She disposed of the compliment, suddenly impatient. They were wasting time. The sooner he had bedded her, the sooner this thing would be done.
The girdle was unknotted, and Briar put it aside. Her gown was loose enough to slide down over her shoulder, displaying smooth, rounded flesh. He went still, watching her as she brought her arm out of the gown, and then slowly repeated the action with her other shoulder and arm. Grasping firmly the worn, brown cloth, she held it up against her breasts.
His rapt attention pleased her. A moment ago she had felt as if she had lost control of the situation; now she had it back again. That black, brooding gaze moved slowly upward, to her face, examining her lips, her tumbling hair, before his eyes fastened on hers. The silence in the chamber stretched out. Something in the tension of his body, the crackle in the air about him, told Briar that if she wanted to turn back then she should do it now. Before it was too late.
Slowly, her eyes on his, she let the gown fall.
Had he groaned aloud? Ivo would not have been surprised if he had. He had never seen a woman so beautiful.
Her long chestnut hair curled over her pale shoulders and down over the curve of her bade. It made a pretty screen for her small, rounded breasts with their tawny nipples. Her hazel eyes took on a secretive slant, as she watched him through her dark lashes, and her pink lips tilted enigmatically at the corners.
Ivo still didn’t understand why of all the men in the hall she had chosen him, but it was often so with women. Sweyn laughed and said they were intrigued by his warriorlike looks coupled with his nobleman’s voice. He no longer cared. The elusive thought that he knew her from somewhere still tugged at him, but he cared not for that, either. His body was hard and ready, the wench was lovely and very desirable, and he was not fool enough to question his good fortune.
He felt its touch rarely enough these days.
Ivo took a step closer. The color of her eyes deepened. With lust? Or was it something else that ran swiftly through the green and brown? Surely not fear? For if she were afraid of him, why would she be here, now?
Still, it was with a cautious gentleness that Ivo reached out his good hand, instinctively keeping the other one hidden at his side. He touched her cheek, feeling the soft smoothness of her skin, the slight indentation of her scar. He cupped her chin, his thumb tracing the shape of her Ups, memorizing the feel of them.
Her lips parted and she sighed and swayed a little, eyes shutting. Ivo smiled, pleased by the faint blush staining her skin, the tightening of her nipples into hard little cherries, begging for the comfort of his tongue. Aye, there was desire here, and she felt it as much as he.
He caught her long hair in his hand, using it to tilt her face back for his mouth. The kiss was long and hot, and while he kissed her his hand sought her breasts and caressed them. She shuddered, moaning into his mouth. Her dark lashes fluttered wildly and she drew back a little, hands clasping his forearm, as if she sought to steady herself.
