“’Tis perverse, I know, but because of him, cruelty and tenderness are strangely twined for me. When you were so gentle a moment ago, all the memories rushed back.” She shook her head, her pallid face suddenly resolute. “And yet I promise to try harder to overcome it, my lord. I will work to control it and make myself—”
“Nay,” Gray broke in harshly. Then he gentled his voice. “Nay, lady. I will not have you anything more than you already are.”
“But I—”
“I’ll not allow it. Your ease with me will come in time. Think no more on it until then.”
She looked as if she might protest again, so he moved his head until he held her gaze, adding, “Make no mistake, Elise. Wewillconsummate our union—but I am not so bound to my own pleasures that I cannot wait until you are ready to share this with me, without fear or remorse.”
Even in the dusky light, he saw her face regain some of its color; a delicate flush spread across her cheeks, and she looked away. But to his dismay, she seemed ready to cry again.
His mouth softened to a smile, and he shook his head in mock reproach. “Ah, lady, we’ll be floating away on a stream if every thing I do and say keeps releasing that wellspring of your eyes.”
A soft, throaty chuckle escaped her, and she blinked, smiling back at him even as she swiped her hand over her cheeks. “You’re right, of course, my lord. I will cease immediately.”
“Gray.”
He saw a flash of white teeth, and her gaze dipped again. “Aye, my lord.” The pink of her cheeks deepened. “I mean, Gray.”
Warmth flowed through him, and for a brief moment he reveled in the bittersweet sensation. By heaven, but she possessed a beautiful smile. He wanted to bask in its light a little longer, but the weariness in her eyes made him gesture to the pillows. “Come, now, wife. No more talk. You must be tired, and you’ll need your rest if we are to begin your training tomorrow.”
She gazed at him in silence a moment more, her haunted expression intensified by the room’s shadows. But then she nodded and lay down facing away from him, offering no protest when he stretched next to her and pulled her back into his arms. She even nestled against him, shifting until he too was forced to move so that she wouldn’t feel the rigid swelling of his manhood in response to her buttocks curving so sweetly against him. Soon her breathing settled into the regular rhythms of slumber.
Closing his eyes, Gray held very still. She felt so warm, so good in his arms. As he watched her sleep, felt the gentle rise and fall of her breast, breathed in the delicate fragrance of her skin and hair, a pang twisted his insides. He waited for it to pass, but it remained there, a steady, dull throb of emotion that he felt as ill prepared to face as he had the prospect of this marriage when King Henry had first commanded it of him.
Christ, but just holding her like this was difficult. It taxed him in a new and unexpected way. He’d fought in hundreds of battles, laid siege to countless foreign lands and wielded his sword in an infinite number of bloody conflicts, but he’d never faced anything quite like this. It was a war against himself this time—a savage combat waged in his own soul.
Walk away, his logic told him.Save yourself, before ’tis too late.But he couldn’t. Something deeper forced him on. God help him, but he wanted to protect this strange, lovely creature that was his wife. Wanted to comfort her and make her feel safe…
Wanted to love her.
Gritting his teeth, Gray sucked in his breath and pushed the thoughts back. He rested his chin on the top of Elise’s head, feeling the silken texture of her hair as he struggled with the moment.
’Twas near impossible to try to sleep with her curled against him like this; along with his other torturous thoughts, his mind raced with images of what he’d planned to do with her this night. Ways he’d wanted to touch her, passions he’d hoped to make her feel. And yet for all of the delicious torment it caused him, he knew that he’d be loath to relinquish their embrace.
Before long, he acknowledged defeat. The bliss of dreamless, easy rest would not be his this night. He opened his eyes and exhaled. Elise made a little sound of contentment and, moving her head where it rested on his arm, she reached up and sleepily gripped his hand, clasping it to her chest as if it were a favored poppet.
Gray froze, barely suppressing a groan at the sensations shooting up from his palm and fingertips, cupped now over the soft warmth of her breast. Against every instinct he tried to pull his hand away, but she only nuzzled closer, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder and pulling his arm to her bosom more tightly. He held still in shocked silence a moment more. Then he tipped his head back with a soft, chuckling groan.
Nay, sleep would not be his this night.
With a murmured prayer for strength, he used his free arm to pull the coverlet secure around them; then he held his wife close, settling in for the long, quiet passing of the hours. He waited in the hush, watching the dark outside the window deepen to midnight, then to sapphire blue. He watched and waited, saw stars burst to life and wink out, followed the rising moon in all of her splendor until she dipped as slowly again beneath the curve of the horizon. And still he lay, soaking in the calm and peace he found cradling Elise in his arms.
He, Baron Grayson de Camville, man of action, war, and bloodshed, Champion Knight of King Henry III, scourge of every tournament and battlefield in England, lay very quiet and still in those hours before dawn, simply holding his wife and waiting…
Until pink clouds tinged the golden dome of the heavens, signaling the start of the new day.
When Catherine awoke, she felt the sun streaming in on her, warm and comforting. Something lingered in the back of her mind, leaving her strangely content. Without opening her eyes, she stretched until each joint of her arms, legs, fingers and toes rebelled in happy protest. And then she remembered.
Eyes snapping open, she looked around the chamber. By the sun’s strength she guessed it to be well pastterce, which probably explained why the room was empty but for herself and a small mound of clothing perched on a chair near the fireplace. A jagged scrap of parchment rested atop the garments.
Scrambling from the bed, she padded to the chair. Beneath the note lay a pair of breeches, a shirt and tunic. The message scrawled on the vellum instructed her to don the garments for her weapon’s training this morn. She was to go to the clearing just beyond the castle wall shortly beforesext. It was signed simply, “Gray.”
Gray.
His name echoed through Catherine’s mind, leaving a swirl of warmth in its wake. He’d been so kind, so patient last night. Why hadn’t he pressed his rights with her? She’d never known a man to show such restraint. It had been unusual enough when he’d forgone their joining on the night of their wedding, but this…this exceeded all bounds. He’d denied his own pleasure again, and for her sake. Because she hadn’t been able to stop herself from weeping in his arms.
She sat down hard in the chair, pulling to her chest the garments he’d left for her. She’d felt so confused last night. At first she’d been nervous—aye, and with the same worries she’d borne from her first night here. But before long, Gray’s kisses had made her feel…well she didn’t quite know how to describe it. She’d never felt so before. ’Twas different. All she’d ever known when Geoffrey kissed her was disgust and fear.
