She nestled against him, melting against his strength. His arms tightened around her, and she wondered if she would ever again experience anything remotely as pleasurable.
Her eyes fluttered and she pressed her cheek against his chest, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart.
Simon nearly groaned aloud as she melded her lush form even closer to him. He was already in agony, and she was torturing him further by wiggling against him.
He willed his body to calm down, but so far his effort was having no affect. His breeches were tight, painfully tight, and he prayed she wouldn’t notice.
He cursed his lack of control. It would only get him killed if he couldn’t school his attention. Never before had he allowed attraction to a woman to interfere with his tight reign on his emotions.
But damn if this woman, a royal princess yet, didn’t make him react like a schoolboy who had just reached his majority. Not only was she well out of his reach, but he was charged with her safety. Entertaining lascivious thoughts about her was a practice in futility.
He glanced down to see her dark lashes resting against her cheeks. Her soft breath blew on his chest and warmed him to his core. Gently, he stroked back the strands of hair covering her cheek. She was indeed beautiful, and she captivated him unlike any woman ever had.
Which was precisely why he needed to put as much distance between them as possible. Figuratively speaking of course, since there wasn’t even an inch separating them at present.
Seeking to remedy that, he laid back and gazed up at the sky. How had his life suddenly become so complicated? The perils of his work were nothing new to him, but never before had he developed such a personal stake. He did his job and moved on to the next issue.
He glanced over at her sleeping form and felt an odd tightening in his chest. Damn it all but she had some kind of hold on him that he couldn’t even explain.
He had shared things with her he had never told another human being. Not even Kirk. Her talk of her family inspired a longing within him that he thought he had left behind when he departed from the house of his birth.
For the first time in his adult life, he considered what his life might be like if he did have a family of his own. A real family.
He swallowed against the bad taste in his mouth and silently berated himself for even going down this road. It did him no good to yearn for things he couldn’t have. Could never have in his chosen path. England was his responsibility. His family. It would have to suffice.
Chapter Nine
Isabella slowly opened her eyes, reluctant to come out of her delicious dream. She felt warm and safe. As her eyes focused, she found herself staring at Merrick’s chest.
As if they had a mind of their own, her hands came up and lightly skimmed over the surface of his shirt and up to his shoulders. He felt just like she had always imagined a man to feel. Hard, rugged, strong. He smelled of leather and horses, but on him it was appealing.
When he opened his eyes, she quickly withdrew her hands.
“Good morning,” he murmured in a slightly hoarse voice. “I trust you slept well.”
She nodded.
He pulled hastily away from her, and a cold draft billowed over her as the blanket fell open. She felt the loss of his warmth in every inch of her body and squashed the urge to ask him to come back.
She followed him up, her legs screaming in protest as she stretched. Rubbing the kinks from her neck with one hand, she reached up with the other for her coat that she’d hung on the branches of a small tree. The morning fog hung precariously close to the ground, lending the area an eerie quality. Steam rose from the horses’ backs as they stamped and neighed.
Merrick knelt by the stream and scooped some of the water into his mouth. He motioned her over then held his cupped hands to her. Tentatively, she lowered her mouth and drank. Somehow the act of drinking from his hands became sensual. She nearly jumped as her lips made contact with his thumb. His skin tasted slightly salty and felt rough to her soft mouth. Her tongue briefly darted out as she scooped the remaining moisture within, and she wondered if the rest of him would taste as good.
“More?” he asked, lowering his hands to the stream again.
She shook her head. “No, that is enough. Thank you.” She licked her lips where the feel of his touch still lingered.
He returned to the horses and dug out two bread rolls from his bag and handed one to her. “We should be going. We can eat on the way.”
She took the proffered roll and made her way to her horse. Merrick’s hands came round her waist, and he hoisted her up to the saddle. As she sat down, his hands lingered then trailed down her leg as he collected the reins for her.
He looked as if he would say something but turned abruptly and mounted his own horse. They took out in silence, once again foregoing the main road and threading their way through the woods.
After a few miles, Isabella grew weary of the silence and looked over at Merrick. “When do you suppose we will arrive in Dover?”
“I hope by tonight,” he returned. “We will make inquiries into a ship that can take us to Leaudor, and hopefully be on our way shortly after.” He paused a moment and looked ahead then back to her once more. “But it could be several days.”
“What will we do if we are unable to find a ship to take us?” she asked, voicing the one fear that prevailed over all others.
