Trying to keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand, she made a quick task of spreading out the blanket before preparing to empty the contents of the basket. But when she opened the woven lid, she frowned. What in heaven’s name…
Goose feathers?
A handful of long, silky plumes rested on top of what appeared to be a set of men’s garments. A bag of ripe strawberries was nestled inside the basket as well, it was true, but there was no explaining the clump of mint leaves or the small pot of what seemed to be some kind of liniment she discovered at the very bottom of the basket. The only other consumable item she found was a sack of red wine. The rest was mystifying.
She’d knelt on the edge of the blanket and was readying to twist around and call to Damien for an explanation when he rushed up behind her in a laughing ambush, grabbing her and tumbling her onto the blanket before rolling half atop her. He had dried himself off, it seemed, but apart from the warm sheen of sunlight burnishing his body, he was wearing…nothing.
She gave a little yelping gasp as he began unfastening the laces of her gown. Pressing her palms flat against his chest, she pushed, managing to move away from him just far enough that she could scowl up into his face.
“I demand that you stop, Damien de Ashby, until you explain what all ofthisis”—she gestured wildly to the contents of the basket, scattered next to them—“and just what exactly you are doing.”
Damien did stop for a moment then, taking in a steadying breath and realizing as he did so that he was enjoying this far more than he had a right to. But he couldn’t help himself. She was so beautiful. Even indignant as she was—perhaps especially because of it—she entranced him. Her cheeks flushed a shade of rose no flower on earth could match for loveliness, and the delicate color highlighted the spark in her eyes and accented the glossy sweep of her dark hair.
Lifting his hand away from her back to stroke his fingertips along the side of her face, he smiled, experiencing a surge of unaccountable feeling as he looked upon her, something that welled up from a place he’d thought long dead and destroyed. But it was there, he realized in shock, pulsing in wonderful, glorious life. An emotion he’d thought never to feel again.
Sweet angels preserve him…
Doing his best to quell that sudden and astounding awareness, he swallowed hard and tried to steer his attention back to the more lighthearted banter they had been enjoying before.
“What I am doing,” he answered, his voice hoarse with all he was suppressing, “is attempting to disrobe you, Alissende. With your permission, of course. It will be difficult to do what else I have planned otherwise.”
“But—outhere?” she whispered, sounding somewhat choked. Her eyes, though, sparkled with that light he remembered well—the impetuous, fun-loving glint that had entranced him from the very first time he’d seen her.
Damien tried to grin again, only to discover that his mouth wasn’t cooperating. The strange, wobbling sensation in his lips made the expression that resulted lopsided, he was sure, in a way that was most distressing. It took him a moment to pull himself together enough to speak again. He would concentrate only upon the pleasure to be had right now, he told himself. That and nothing more. He had to, God help him, for if he permitted himself to dwell on the inconceivable—that he had allowed himself to fall in love with Alissende all over again—it would drive him mad.
Clearing his throat, he made the effort to sound far more normal than he was feeling. “We used to meet for our trysts long ago in the meadow beyond Seton Castle, sheltered by naught but the canopy of sky, sun, and a few trees. I recall those moments…fondly to say the least.” He managed to quirk his brow at her in what he hoped was a wicked way. “Aside from that, Thomas is on guard, and I have a vow to fulfill. You will remember that I promised to extract triple payment from you, once I was able, for the tender torments you played upon me in our tent seven nights ago.”
She paused, smiling. “That you did.”
“And you admitted to trembling with dread at the prospect of it.”
“Aye, I do recall saying that.” Dropping her gaze to his mouth, she brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, nearly undoing him with the innocent eroticism of the gesture.
“You are trembling now, are you not?” he asked huskily.
Alissende met his gaze once more, stealing his breath with the look in the violet-blue depths of her eyes. She swallowed. “Aye. But no more than you are, I think, my lord.”
“If I am, it is with desire for you, Alissende,” he whispered, abandoning all words, then, as he tipped his head to kiss her again.
Her mouth was soft. So soft and gentle beneath his. She tasted of honey and apples, and when she used the tip of her tongue to trace the outline of his lips, it unleashed a fierce wave of yearning that spilled through him and pooled in the heavy, demanding length of his erection.
He took her mouth more fully, wanting her to feel the need she stirred in him, even as he reached behind her to finish unlacing her gown. It slipped off her shoulders, and without breaking their kiss, he eased it down, hooking his thumbs under the straps of her chemise at the same time and pulling both garments down further, over her hips, until they slid off her completely.
She was as naked as he was, now. He watched her face, reveled in the sense of combined pleasure and shyness she seemed to feel in being freed of the constraints of her clothing. By all that was holy, she had no idea how beautiful she was, he thought, his heart lurching. Ah, but she was perfection to him, and his hand trembled with the desire to stroke his palm over her smooth skin, all pink and cream, warmed in the gentle gilding of the sunlight.
Yet he did not touch her yet. Nay, he withheld that pleasure from himself for the moment, instead leaning up on one elbow and cupping her face as he kissed her still. He lavished his attention on her mouth, tasting her, wanting her to feel the fullness of his desire for her. Breaking free of that sweet caress took almost all of his will, but at last he shifted to the side, nibbling more kisses along the edge of her jaw, toward the tender spot just beneath her ear, and reveling in her low moan of pleasure.
Forcing himself to pull back, to slow down and make this last, Damien reached for the bag of strawberries. He took one out, and with a kind of teasing nonchalance, half sat up and murmured, “I’m hungry—aren’t you?” Without waiting for her answer, he took a bite of the plump fruit he held, grinning at the look of shock that swept over her beautiful face with his abrupt abandonment of their love-play.
She batted at him in the next breath, laughing and pushing herself up to her elbows. She reached for the bag as he eased back down beside her on the blanket, managing to quip at him as she did, “I think I would like to try a berry or two…though I fail to see why I needed to be divested of my clothing in order to do it.”
“Your lack of clothing has nothing to do with the strawberries,” he murmured, his gaze affixed to her, watching the sensuous display as she bit into the berry’s juicy flesh.
“Nay?” She kept her gaze locked to his as well, clearly enjoying their erotically charged banter as much as he was, as she finished the first fruit and began another.
He shook his head. “The berries are for nourishment alone, to sustain you through what comes next…which is the part that required you to be unclothed.”
As he finished speaking, he reached for the pot of cinnamon-infused liniment. “We will begin with this,” he said, unfastening the lid and dipping one finger into the smooth, sweet-smelling unguent, “as it must come before the mint leaves or the feathers.”
