He decided for her.
He pulled her into his embrace.
Then he lowered his lips to hers again, firmer this time.Moving his mouth over hers.Nuzzling her cheek.Tasting her as if she were an irresistible, ripe peach.
His hand drifted up and his fingers left a trail of shivers along her bare throat.He reached beneath her hood and caressed the flesh at the side of her neck.
She made a sound she’d never made before.A soft moan.
It frightened her.Who was this woman making such sounds?
Yet his touch simultaneously excited and comforted her.
He groaned in answer, giving the lobe of her ear a gentle squeeze.
When she gasped, he parted her lips farther with his tongue, making cautious explorations.
Her pulse began to race.Was she afraid?Or excited?
She lifted her hands and placed them on his chest.Whether to push him away or haul him closer, she wasn’t sure.She rested them upon the firm muscle there, remembering the similar enticing contours of his bare back.
Her head swam in a sea of confusion.Was she coursing through the waves like a spirited dolphin?Or about to drown in the depths of an unforgiving ocean?
She wanted more.Her body craved…something.
Just as she was about to press closer to discover what it was, she felt him chuckle against her mouth.
Jarred out of her lusty languor, she pulled back.
For one awful instant, glancing at the amusement in his eyes, she thought he was laughing at her.
What had she done wrong?Had she been too aggressive?Was she supposed to be still?She knew nothing about kissing.
Then he cupped her chin, tilted his head, and explained, “I’ve ne’er kissed anyone with a beard before.”
Relief melted into a smile.“I’ve ne’er kissedanyonebe—” The words were out before she could stop them.
His brow creased.“What?”
She hadn’t meant to confess that.She was supposed to be a lady.SurelyLady Aillennwould have had many suitors.
“I mean,” she amended with a blush, “thepilgrimhas ne’er kissed anyone.”
“Ah,” he said.But he didn’t look like he believed her explanation.“Shall we change out o’ this holy garb ere someone thinks a pair o’ errant monks are indulgin’ in carnal temptation?”
She knew he was jesting.But those two words had never sounded so tempting as they did now on his lips.
He was right.They needed to change their identities to throw off any possible pursuers.Besides, the mule-hair beard was not only unsavory.It was getting itchy.Perhaps the painstaking process of removing it would erase any sensual, intrusive thoughts.
She gulped.“Aye.My satchel is in the copse ahead.”Then she remembered.“But I’ll need to find verjuice to remove the beard.”The acid would help dissolve the pine pitch she’d used to adhere it.
“I’ve got verjuice.”
“Ye do?”Who carried verjuice with them?She always had to seek out a kitchen to procure the stuff.
“In my satchel.”Then he gave her a sly glance.“’Tis how I usually removemyfake beard, when ’tisn’t bein’ torn off by a vexed lass.”
Thankfully, the mule hair hid her blush.She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t decided to tear her beard off in revenge.
