He could do this, he groused in silence as he stalked over to the table, and in an effort to distract himself he wolfed down one of the pastries there, following it with a cupful of cider, quaffed without pause. Then, setting down the empty vessel, he stretched out his back and arms in preparation for the instruction to come, keeping his mind occupied with the helpful thought that Alissende’s own reluctance about these public appearances would likely serve him well in what he needed to do.
He was just beginning to feel a sense of confidence in his ability to remain composed about all this when he happened to turn away from the table and saw Alissende coming into the yard.
It took but one look, and all his hopes fled straight on a path to hell.
She moved with easy grace toward him, sending a prickle of warning up his spine. Something was different about her. Something he could not pin to any one aspect. But there was no mistaking it.
By all the angels and saints…
It was in her movements, in the gentle swaying of her hips and the tilt of her head, with that lustrous hair of hers pulled up to the crown. And that gown she was wearing. Good God, it seemed to slip along her curves, accenting every sweet nuance of her body.
And then she came close enough that he could see the look in her eyes, and he was left trying to swallow in a futile attempt to moisten a throat gone bone dry.
“I trust I have not kept you waiting too long, Damien,” she murmured, lowering her gaze and giving him a moment’s relief from the desire that was ripping through him.
“Nay,” he mumbled. He coughed, trying to rid himself of his hoarseness. “I was just planning the sequence of moves I intend to hold—I mean show—you.”
“That is good. If you have no objection, however, I would partake of some refreshment before we begin.” She smiled contritely. “I became engrossed in a conversation withMèreas we were sewing, and I had no time to sup.”
At his silent nod, she stepped past him, moving to take a fruit tart and a cup from the table. The sensual fragrance of ambergris and sweet woodruff she wore wafted over him, making his gut clench with fierce pleasure. He closed his eyes and almost against his will breathed in deeply, tormenting himself with the burning thoughts and tender memories that scent unleashed inside of him.
Not a very auspicious start.
Determined to distract himself from such dangerous musings, he opened his eyes again, only to realize that Alissende stood directly in front of him and that she had turned to face him again as she ate. Though he knew he should not do it, he watched her take a bite of the tart and sip at her cup of cider, mesmerized by the glimpses he caught of her mouth.
Those soft, rosy-hued lips were just visible at the cup’s golden rim as she drank, until without warning, her tongue darted out, catching a drop of the sweet liquid. An answering jolt of pure heat stabbed through him, forcing him to shift uncomfortably with the predictable swelling of that portion of him that always seemed to have a mind of its own, no matter what his better intentions.
Damien tore his gaze away, reminding himself to concentrate on the work ahead and nothing else. There was naught to be gained and much to be lost in continuing with such indulgences, innocent though they might seem. He should have remembered that he did not need to touch Alissende to become aroused by her; he never had needed to. She tempted him just by being.
When he had finally mastered his thoughts enough to make movement comfortable again, Alissende suddenly stepped toward him, lifting her hand to his face. His gaze snapped to hers as she brushed her thumb in a silken, sensual stroke across his cheek.
That unexpected action and the sensation that accompanied it made him stop breathing so abruptly that he made a slight choking sound.
“Are you unwell, Damien?” she asked, with a kind of amused lilt to her voice. And those violet-blue eyes…ah, they held laughter as well, along with something more…
Pressing the cup into his hand, she murmured, “Here, drink something, for goodness’ sake. I did not mean to startle you. It was only a crumb—see?” She held out her finger with the flake of tart pastry perched atop it.
He could not speak a word. Nay, for the first time that he could remember, he was utterly and wholly mute. And so he simply jerked two steps back, raised the cup she’d handed him, and drained it in one draught, wishing with a fervor quite unlike him that he had ordered the servants to set out goblets of something more potent than cider.
“I know you wish to embark upon our lesson soon,” Alissende continued, her dulcet tones washing over him like honey, “but before we begin in earnest, I would like to ask your honest opinion.”
“About what?” Damien managed to croak.
“About my progress these past few days.”
If Damien hadn’t begun to doubt his own senses by this point, he might have thought that Alissende’s eyes were growing a bit heavy-lidded, and that she’d taken a step—nay, two steps again—closer to him as she’d spoken. Her brow curved in slight, wicked conjunction with one corner of her lush mouth.
“What say you, then?” She’d finished the tart she’d taken from the table, and as she waited for him to answer she lifted the tip of one finger to her mouth, gently sucking from it a dab of the sticky, sweet berry filling. When she pulled it from between her lips, the action was slow and smooth, leaving that gently rounded tip glistening with just a hint of wetness. “Have my skills…improved?”
In that moment, if Damien’s legs hadn’t felt like they had become rooted by lead weights to the ground, he would have needed to sit down. Right there.
As it turned out, he managed to recover enough not only to remain standing but also to utter what could pass for a reply, husky as it was.
“I would say that you’re doing quite well, Alissende.” He coughed, determined to see this through without cracking. “Quite well indeed.”
Her smile washed over him, brilliant and, by all appearances, ingenuous.
“I am relieved to hear it,” she said, slipping her hand beneath the crook of his elbow and pulling him into the center of the training area, “and I am also eager to get started, to see what clever positions you intend to teach me today.”
