Chapter Twenty-Six
It was closeto midnight when Althea left her chamber. She held the candle high, her heart thudding. She’d thought of little else but this once she’d made up her mind. How foolish she’d been to be concerned about the opinions of others which had only served to keep them apart. She was prepared to risk her heart, to have this one time with Flynn, even though a future together seemed doubtful. He would go abroad at the king’s command, and she would return to her life in London once it was safe to do so.
When she reached his bedchamber door she faltered. Brookwood had accused her of being a poor lover so often she’d feared he’d been right. She’d taken no pleasure from the act. An urge to rush back to her bedchamber made her take several steps away down the corridor. But with Flynn, it would be different. Whenever she was near him, she wanted to touch him. She didn’t know much about pleasing a man it was true, but she wanted to try. “Coward!” she murmured and swiveled on her heel, walking back to grasp the door latch before she lost her nerve.
The enormous master bedchamber lay in darkness. Her candle barely lit the way across the carpet to the heavily carved, four-poster bed hung with crimson bed hangings. Flynn’s dark head lay on the pillow. She could hear his slow deep breathing. She would not wake him. With the plan to return to her cold bed, she retreated disappointed, while her body ached for his touch.
“Althea, is that you?” Flynn’s voice came out of the shadows.
“How did you know? I might have been a robber.” She came forward, the candle wobbling in her hand.
He sat up. “Robbers don’t tend to wear attar of roses. Is something wrong?”
The sheet fell to reveal his impressive chest, naked to the waist. The last of her inhibitions fell with it. He slept unclothed, she remembered and shivered with anticipation. Her confidence grew, and she boldly moved to the bedside. “No, nothing’s wrong, Flynn. I want to share your bed.”
His sleepy gray eyes widened and sparkled with warmth. “You are sure?”
“I am sure.”
“The fairies haven’t been whispering in your ear?” he asked with a laugh, his brogue growing heavier.
“Ireland has fairies?” she asked breathlessly. He was making this hard for her, and she’d begun to shiver.
He lifted the covers in invitation, revealing a further glimpse of his lean, finely muscled body. “Mm. None of them are particularly well behaved, but if one has brought you to my bedside, I am not about to complain. Quick, get in. You’re cold.”
“I need you to warm me,” she whispered. She set the candlestick on the dresser, then slipped her dressing gown from her shoulders. She had wanted him, perhaps since they’d first met, but it hadn’t seemed right until now. Flynn had crept beneath her defenses like no other man. She trusted him with her life and her heart. With an intake of breath, she pulled the nightgown over her head. She stood before him naked.
“Althea.” He reached out and drew her into the bed with a long, audible breath. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice filled with passion, sent heat racing along her veins.
Althea leaned into the welcome warmth of his arms as he pulled her beneath the covers. She breathed in his male smell, aware of the long, warm body beside her. She bit her lip on a rush of remembering, and she stiffened as her boldness deserted her.
He sighed when she moved to place space between them. “This is not merely gratitude, is it?”
“Certainly not.” It was her own driving need which had shocked her. She poked his side with a finger. “Do you think this is how I repay those who do me a kindness?”
With a laugh of pure joy, Flynn gathered her close, and his welcome warmth returned, making her aware of their differences, her body soft, his hard with muscle, bone, and sinew. “For a moment, I thought I was dreaming,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re like an angel with your hair down. If thisisa dream, I don’t want to wake.”
“I don’t feel like an angel,” she said with a small laugh. Her desires were anything but angelic.
With a sharp intake of breath, he took her mouth in a passionate kiss, his hands stroking over her hip to cup her derriere and bring her closer, against that part of him which told her how much he wanted her. “I’ve ached for this.” He drew back to study her face. “Not your submission, never that, but for you to want me.”
“Oh, I do want you, Flynn.” How very true that was. He trembled when she ran her hand over the smooth skin on his chest, her fingers toying with the tuft of soft, dark hair. “So very much.” But her doubts still lingered. “I fear I might disappoint you.”
His eyes were gentle, understanding. “And I think I know why.”
“I failed to satisfy Brookwood.”
He huffed out a laugh. “What a liar that man was.” His gentle fingers trailed feather-light over her throat and breasts, sending tingles through her body.
“I didn’t love him, you see.”
“He didn’t give you much reason to love him, did he?”
“He said I was cold.”
“Did he satisfy you?”
She shook her head.
