She rose to her feet, intending to step around Argus’s sleeping form, but instead, her skirt caught on the stool, and she stumbled. Osana reached out for something to steady her but missed the edge of the desk with her hand.
A heartbeat later she tumbled onto Aldfrith’s lap.
The shock of Osana’s warm, soft body landing on him jolted Aldfrith out of the anger that had rendered him speechless. In just a few words this woman, who until today had not been able to spell her name, had made him feel like a fool. He had been ready to send her away when she arrived at his annex earlier; he had been telling himself all day that he must. Yet one glance at her hopeful face and his resolve had scattered like leaves in the wind.
There had been no malice in her observations, just curiosity, and plain speech. Unwittingly, she had just destroyed the one thing he was most proud of: his wisdom, his ideas.
Yet when she fell onto his lap, he forgot his upset.
The scent of lavender and the sweet smell of a woman’s skin enveloped him. He was much taller than her, and when standing, Osana had to look up to meet his eye. Their gazes were level now though. He looked into those hazel eyes flecked with green and saw the shocked look on her lovely face. His attention shifted to those lush, slightly parted lips, and lust hit him with the force of a battering ram.
“Sorry, milord,” she gasped, her eyes glittering with mortification. “I’m clumsy, I—”
Instinct took over. Aldfrith reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck. Then he drew her close, his mouth covering hers.
The feel of her lips against his, the flutter of her pulse under his fingertips, drove the last of his good sense away. With a strangled groan, Aldfrith ran his free hand up her back, exploring the firmness of the flesh beneath her fitted tunic. Then his tongue parted her lips, and he kissed her deeply.
Osana’s response was primal. Her soft whimper of pleasure, the way she melted into him like molten wax, awoke something deep within him Aldfrith had thought dead forever.
The Lord save his soul, but he wanted Osana. Her taste was like honey, like rich wine. The feel of her body against his brought him alive. The ache in his loins was almost unbearable.
She kissed him back, her hunger matching his. Her breasts pressed up against the wall of his chest, and he slid a hand from her back to cup their fullness. He wanted to see her breasts naked, to suckle them. He needed to tear away the layers of clothing separating them, to take her here and now on the desk. He wanted to lose himself inside her.
Everything he knew about the world ceased to matter. His existence narrowed to this moment, this woman.
Thud. Thud.
“Lord Aldfrith.”
The moment shattered.
Aldfrith and Osana sprang apart as if doused with a bucket of icy seawater.
Fortunately, the door was closed. A cold wind had sprung up in the afternoon, and Osana had closed the door upon entering to avoid putting out the fire with a draft. It was that which had saved someone from walking in on them.
“Aye,” Aldfrith said roughly, rising to his feet, while Osana sank down—trembling—onto her stool.
The door opened, and Cerdic appeared. His gaze swept over them both, his expression impassive. However, Aldfrith was sure guilt was written over his and Osana’s faces.
“Yes, Cerdic?” Aldfrith said shortly. “We’re in the midst of a lesson.”
The slight raise of one of Cerdic’s eyebrows was the only sign that he knew what he had just walked in on. “Apologies for the interruption, sire. However, the ealdorman of Gefrin is here. He wishes to discuss rebuilding Northumbria’s armies. He claims the conversation is long overdue.”
That man is like a dog with a bone.Aldfrith raked a hand through his hair. This was the last thing he needed. After that kiss, he could barely think straight. Thankfully, the tunic he wore over his leggings reached mid-thigh, concealing his arousal. He had to gather his wits before returning to the Great Hall to meet his cousin.
Edwin had become troublesome of late. He imagined the King of Mercia, or the Pict King Bridei, were plotting against them and planning an attack on Northumbria. As far as Aldfrith was concerned, his cousin’s worries were entirely unfounded. They had never enjoyed such peaceful relations with their neighbors as they did now.
“Thank you, Cerdic. Tell Edwin to enjoy a cup of ale in the hall. I will be with him shortly.”
The warrior nodded, his gaze darting once more to Osana before he turned on his heel and strode from the annex.
When he was gone, Aldfrith heaved in a deep breath and turned to Osana.
She sat, stiff-backed, upon the stool looking as if she would flee at any moment. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her cheeks slightly flushed. Aldfrith inwardly cringed; Cerdic was no fool. He would know what they had been doing. They were just lucky that it was Cerdic and not the bishop who had interrupted them.
Thinking upon Bishop Wilfrid sent a chill through Aldfrith, dousing the last of the lust that had driven away all rational thought.
Temptress.
