Desire flooded her at his lusty words. God, she wanted him too. “Then take me,” she whispered.
No sooner had the words left her mouth she found herself lifted upward, his hands cupping her buttocks, running down her legs and spreading them.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her feet at the small of his back. Using his fingers to part her folds, he thrust upward, entering her in one deep plunge.
Throwing back her head, she gasped at the feeling of fullness. He rocked against her again and again…
Her hands tangled in his hair, and she smashed her mouth to his. His hands gripped her backside, molding her tighter against him. They moved frantically against each other. She ran her hands over his back, over his chest, trying to memorize every nuance of his body.
As she began the slow exquisite climb to her release, he bent his head and took her nipple between his teeth. She wrapped her arms around his head, trapping him against her breasts. She began to undulate wildly against him, moving faster and faster to keep up with him. “Oh God,” she panted. And then her world tilted precariously around her. She closed her eyes and arched her body into his.
She felt him leave her then felt his warm seed mingle with the water between her legs. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest then slowly slid down his length until she stood on shaky legs before him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, not yet able to form coherent words.
He waded to the side and picked up a cloth and some soap. Returning to where she stood, he began gently washing her body. She rested limply against him as he rubbed the cloth over her skin. When he had finished, he swung her up in his arms and mounted the steps out of the bath.
She clung to him as he carried her into the next room, loving the feel of his strength. He set her down on a small bench in front of the hearth where a fire burned. He left her long enough to collect a towel and returned to dry her off.
She drew her knees up to her chest when he turned his attention to her hair, rubbing and massaging the towel through her wet locks.
Soon, the heat from the fire infiltrated every muscle, drifting languidly through her. Her eyes drooped and she sighed in contentment as he continued his attention.
She looked up when the three monks returned, all bearing something different in their arms. One carried trays of food, one carried what appeared to be clothing, and the third carried a flask of wine.
“If it pleases the princess, we have food and clothing for you and his lordship.”
They laid the items on the two silk pallets lining the far wall then set the trays on the short-legged table next to the pallets. Two pillows for them to sit on were shoved up to the table then the monks retreated from the room.
She rose immediately and went to the bed to retrieve the clothing. To her relief, the apparel they had brought for her was practical for her impending journey. A simple pair of cotton trousers and a loose fitting tunic. For Merrick, they had supplied breeches and a plain shirt. Light weight boots were supplied for both of them.
Turning, she tossed the clothing to him and began pulling her pants on. When they were both dressed, she motioned him over to the table where the food sat.
They sat opposite of each other, cross-legged on the pillows. The aroma of the food floated through her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled in response. All her favorites were assembled. Plum pudding, sugared dates, roast duck, bread, cheese and delicious-smelling soup.
“Now I know what it means to eat like a king,” Merrick said in an amused voice.
She poured them both a glass of wine and sat back to enjoy the fare. As they ate, Father Ling entered and crossed the room to stand in front of them. With easy grace, he knelt down between them. “I trust everything is to your liking.”
“It is,” she replied.
His expression grew serious, and he stared intently at her. “You haven’t much time, Your Highness. There are those who would see Jacques Montagne crowned as soon as possible. The only thing preventing such an action is his failure to produce the sacred relics.”
“Has he been searching the caves?” she asked.
“His men search the cliffs day and night but so far have been unsuccessful,” he said with a slight quirk of his lips. “Without the map, he hasn’t a chance at success. But the Leaudorian people won’t wait forever for a new ruler. There is much talk of doing away with the old ways.”
“No!” She stood and paced in agitation. “Damn him. Damn him to hell.”
Father Ling remained silent, and she regretted her outburst. “I am sorry, Father.”
“You needn’t apologize, Your Highness. I am all too aware of all Jacques Montagne has done to you and your family.”
“How are you aware of these things?” Merrick spoke up, suspicion laced in his voice.
Father Ling turned regally to him. “I know many things, your lordship. For instance that you are a deeply troubled man. You have many unanswered questions about your brother’s death. Questions that have plagued you for years.”
