She couldn’t think of a thing to say. It was all she could do to stand. She clutched his shoulders for support. Broad, smooth, and rock hard. Her hand slipped on the sticky remains of the unguent.
“And if you must bite them,” he went on, his deep voice vibrating against her skin. “This is how you should do it.” He nibbled at her lips until they parted, then he took her lower lip very gently between his teeth and bit down on it softly, over and over, laving and sucking between each bite.
With each tiny bite, sensations coursed through her body, arrowing in wave after wave, straight to the core of her. Her knees buckled and she felt herself jerk and shudder helplessly in his arms, as if she’d been taken over by something. Or someone.
The moment he released her lips she pulled back, shocked at herself. She shoved at his chest and he let her go. She staggered back, there was something wrong with her knees. She found a chair and sat down with a thump, gasping for breath, for some vestige of control.
He gave a soft groan.
She stared at him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yes.” His chest was heaving, his voice ragged. His eyes bored into hers, a dark, midnight blue.
She scanned his body. Who knows what she had done to him? She’d been completely out of control. “What did I do?”
“You stopped.”
She didn’t understand. “How could that hurt?” Her emotions were in turmoil. What had just happened?
He stroked a finger down her cheek. “He wasn’t a very good husband to you, was he?”
She blinked at the abrupt change of subject and jerked her head away from his hand. Even the stroke of one finger sent shivers through her. “Rupert? Yes, he was. He gave me Nicky. And he protected us.” She took deep breaths and gathered the shreds of her composure together.
“But you weren’t happy.”
“Of course I was. I was the crown princess, the highest lady in the land. Every girl wants that.” She was much calmer now that she was back on familiar territory. As long as she didn’t look at him. Or touch him. Or smell that unguent. She wiped her hands on her skirt. It was ruined anyway.
“Not you. You don’t care a snap of your fingers for that.”
“How would you know?” She wished he would stop looking at her. Even though she had her head turned away, she could feel the warmth of his gaze.
“A girl who cared for position wouldn’t let someone like Mrs. Barrow call her lovie. Wouldn’t let her precious son make friends with a scruffy little fisher boy. Wouldn’t leave it all behind her without a thought.”
She said nothing. She was calm and back to herself, she thought. She must never let him do that to her again.
“Being the princess didn’t make you happy, and I don’t believe he did, either.”
“You’re wrong,” she flashed. “I was happy. And I did love my husband, I did.” She’d promised to on her wedding day and she had, she really had. With all her foolish sixteen-year-old heart.
“I see, so it was love’s young dream?”
Her mouth wobbled and she jerked her back to him. She marched to the fire, seized a poker, and jabbed the fire savagely with it. Smoke gushed into the room.
After a few minutes she put the poker down. “We will leave in the morning,” she announced.
He sighed.
She frowned. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It is just that I had hoped to be here when Harry arrived. The day after tomorrow.” He slanted a look at her.
Callie stared at him, unable to believe the effrontery of the man. No doubt that’s why he’d kissed her like that, to soften her up. “Let me get this clear,” she said. “First you lock my luggage away to force me to delay my departure, then you foist your company on me—unwanted!—for the journey, and now you have the gall to suggest I wait another two days?”
He nodded, his blue eyes dancing. “That’s it, in a nutshell.”
“Because you want to meet your brother.”
“Yes.”
