“I have never touched you as I would like, either, too afeard that these hands would cause you pain when I lose control, as I have repeatedly done with you.” He became exasperated at her doubtful expression. “Look at you! Do you know how breakable you seem to me? You are the tiniest, most delicate woman I have ever taken to my bed. Lifting you puts no more strain on me than lifting Lady Ella.”
That was an exaggeration, but neither of them noticed as he grasped her beneath the arms and lifted her high to prove his point. She was looking down on him now, but he looked no farther than her chest, mesmerized by the parting of her robe. Both breasts were revealed, the large, dusky rose areolas in sharp contrast with the creamy white skin, the nipples puckering even as he watched, as if reaching for his lips. He obliged, bending his head just enough to taste one, and then sucking it deeply into his mouth.
Reina saw it coming when his eyes darkened to indigo, held her breath waiting, and now let it out in a soft moan. Her head rolled back as heat swirled in her belly. Her hands, lightly resting on his shoulders, reached up, fingers digging into his golden mane. That her body was not braced against his, was just dangling from his hands, was of no moment. Her limbs had turned to mush anyway. His remained rock-steady; even his arms still holding her aloft did not tremble.
He finally let go of her breast, only to lick his way to the other, drawing a deeper moan from her as he flayed this virgin nipple. The feeling became nearly unbearable it was so intense, but Reina would not have cried mercy even did she think to.
Then suddenly she was being lifted even higher. His lips did not leave her skin, pressing hot kisses across her belly, stopping briefly at her navel for his tongue to delve inside. She barely caught her breath from this onslaught when she was lowered again, slowly, with his tongue now licking a path from belly to neck, to cheek, finally into her mouth for a scorching kiss that curled her fingers and toes.
When he at last set her back on the floor, she would have crumbled at his feet were she not still gripping fistfuls of his hair. As it was, she collapsed against his body and hardly noticed when he untangled her fingers and lowered her arms to her sides, pushing her robe off her shoulders until it slithered to the floor. She did notice being lifted again, this time cradled in his arms, and vaguely knew where he was carrying her. But no other thoughts intruded through the misty haze of pleasure she was still feeling.
Nor did the pleasure abate. Even when he placed her on the bed and stepped back to strip off his clothes, the tingling continued as she watched him, his golden flesh revealed, the strength that had held her aloft for so long magnified in each ripple of muscle. She wanted to touch his skin, to taste him as he had her. She had never known such trembling anticipation. And when she met his eyes, still another thrill of sensation shot through her, for his eyes smoldered with passion, telling her, as she had already suspected, that this time would be different. But she could not have imagined how different.
When he joined her on the bed, his lips came to her again, tantalizing her with soft kisses, alarming her with rougher nips, inflaming her wherever they touched, until she was in a welter of heat and wanting. She was also thoroughly frustrated that he would not let her touch him as well, but held her hands firmly in his and would not release them.
At last he prepared to fulfill her need to have him inside her. He knelt between her legs, bestowed one more kiss on her quivering belly, and then…
“Ranulf, what…nay, do not…nay!”
He did, and it felt as if she shot right through the ceiling. Half her body did come off the bed, her back arching of its own accord, trying to escape the fire of his tongue where it had gone. But she could not, nor could she twist her hands free. She tried sitting up, only to have one of his arms press her back down and stay there, resting across her belly to keep her down and at his mercy.
He had none. He continued to taste the essence of her, burning away the shock and fear, to let a wild, primal satisfaction burst forth that was shocking in itself. This response seemed not her own, and yet she felt it, exulted in it, and, with helpless abandon, let it take her where it would, which it did right quickly. A new, glorious heartbeat exploded between her legs, wringing from her a cry to rival Ranulf’s customary roar.
And while she floated on the breathless aftermath, he entered her, keeping her crested on a wave of pure sweetness as he surged to his own release. Only the wave unexpectedly built to tidal proportions, and at the last moment, her cry joined his in another burst of throbbing ecstasy.
Chapter Thirty-one
It was rather a shock to wake up from a most pleasant sleep with a cat’s rear end staring her in the face. Reina could not immediately comprehend what she was looking at, but the ghastly smell that assaulted her nostrils a moment later she had no difficulty identifying. She shrieked, leaping out of bed. But when she swung about to glare at the offensive creature reposing on her pillow, she was arrested by the sight of her husband.
Her outraged scream had awakened Ranulf, and with a warrior’s reflexes, he was already standing on the opposite side of the bed with his sword in hand. That he was unable to figure out what had alarmed her was obvious by the questioning look he gave her, one golden brow crooked just so.
Reina’s chagrin did not abate, was considerably added to instead by the fact that they were both standing there naked. Memories of yestereve also crowded into her mind to further vex her. So when he finally asked what had disturbed her, she did not care how foolish her answer might sound. The cat was to blame for this new embarrassment, and the cat would get the blame.
“That feline rodent farted in my face.”
He did not laugh. She almost wished he had, for it might have relieved the tension the absurd situation was building. Instead, he very calmly returned his sword to its scabbard and got back into bed. His lack of any comment at all was enough irritant to prod her temper. That he picked up Lady Ella and began to pet her was the push over the edge.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Well, what? ’Tis a normal occurrence. Animals fart just as we do.”
“She”—Reina stabbed a finger at the culprit—“did it apurpose!”
“Ridiculous. Why do you hate cats?”
“I do not hate cats. I love cats. I hatethatcat, and I refuse to sleep in the same chamber with her any longer. Either she goes, or I do.”
When he said naught, but simply stared at her as if she had gone mad, Reina stormed out of the room, pausing only long enough to swipe up her bedrobe from where it had been left on the floor. Not until she was out in the passageway did it occur to her that she had nowhere to go. She had already given her old chamber over to Elaine and Alicia to share, and did not care to disturb the other women in their quarters at this early hour either. Nor could she go below dressed as she was. ’Twas only just dawn, but some of the servants would have risen by now.
The torches in the passageway had burned out, and the light coming through the deep window embrasures in the wall was barely discernible. ’Twas even darker in the stairwell, but Reina moved in that direction anyway. The floor was cold, and at least sitting on the stairs she could wrap her feet in her bedrobe. Hopefully no one would be coming up just yet to find her there, nor going down, for she could not think of a single excuse to explain a desire to sit in the dark on cold steps wearing naught but a bedrobe.
After a moment her breathing calmed. It took a bit longer for the turmoil of her thoughts to quiet down, but when they did, she dropped her head to her knees with a groan.
I did not do that. Jesú, tell me I did not say or do any of that.
No divine voice answered, and Reina groaned again. Ranulf would think he had married a crazy woman, and not be far wrong. She had to be crazy to let her temper run amok like that, and for no good reason. Yesterday she had reason, or thought she did. This piece of idiocy had no excuse. So a cat was smart enough to wage a subtle war. No one would believe it. She would doubt it herself had she not seen Lady Ella’s particular style of maneuvering ere this. And…Jesú, she was doing it again, making crazy excuses. No one in his right mind would attribute human motives to a cat.
Reina had to face it. She was jealous of Lady Ella—but with reason. That absurd ultimatum she had given Ranulf proved he cared more for his precious cat than he did for her, for she was the one sitting here on cold steps, while that feline was being cosseted in a warm bed—her bed.
