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She nodded silently, knowing that he would keep his word. But as the power of their attraction rose higher inside her, she began to wonder if even her own vows mattered next to the flame of desire. She couldn’t resist it, and it frightened her; but he was kissing her mouth ever deeper, mating with her tongue, tugging at the lace that held the gathering of her smock.

And she wanted him to; she wanted to be overwhelmed, to forget.

The smock loosened and began a slow slide down her shoulders; still he kissed her, pressed his hand against her back, urging her ever closer. His mouth took a torturous path down her neck, as he licked and nipped, then circled the hollow at the base of her throat with his tongue. With both hands he lifted her up until she was kneeling on the bed, though he yet sat. In this position he didn’t need to bend over her. He was eye level as her smock clung for a moment to her nipples, and then fell to her waist.

He inhaled deeply, staring at her. “You are perfection,” he murmured.

She didn’t know how to feel, what to do, only knew that it was heavenly to be worshiped by what she saw in his eyes.

He pressed his mouth between her breasts; the brush of his hair and the roughness of his whiskers teased her with pleasure and pain. He held her like that, and she finally allowed herself to thread her fingers through his soft hair, as she’d longed to do. With a roll of his shoulders, he growled his pleasure.

And then he began to move, tasting her skin, pressing light kisses along the rising slope of her breast. Her need rose just as high, only to subside in frustration, when his teasing kisses slid another way instead of finding the peak.

He tormented her like this for several minutes, until finally a moan escaped her. Only then did he seem to have what he wanted, for he cupped one breast gently, then gave it a long lick of his tongue.

It made her convulse in an overpowering shudder; yet he held her still and continued inexorably, licking her as if she were marzipan candy. When his mouth moved to the other breast, he used his fingers on the first, and the twin sensations were like nothing she’d ever felt before. There was a fire deep in her belly that was stoked by everything he did. Her smock was caught on her lower arms, and she longed to free herself of the last of the garments, to give him what he desired.

But would it be her choice? Or his will?

He finally suckled her, taking her deep into his mouth, so that she barely felt him lift her smock from behind until a draft caressed her buttocks a moment before his fingers did. His other hand slid down her front, cupping the most intimate part of her through the garment.

When she stiffened, he murmured her name as if she were a wild cat he needed to soothe. He was petting her, stroking her, reaching to tease her from behind. She would have fallen bonelessly onto the bed if he had not held her up, so unable was she to understand the way he controlled her, the sensations that coursed through her body.

And then his bare hand slid up her thigh, beneath her smock and he touched her without the barrier of clothing between them. His fingers played her effortlessly, as if he knew all the secrets. She was lost, unknowing, feeling a rising panic beneath the layers of heat and passion. His fingers moved deeper, and she realized her body moistened his passage. His mouth teased her breasts, while his fingers circled and teased and plucked below. She found herself stiffening, waiting, almost begging for him to give her what she needed.

And it came over her so suddenly, that she arched back with it, lost in the overwhelming convulsion. Her only awareness was him, with his hands and his mouth claiming her, possessing her, giving her this release so steeped in pleasure.

He lowered her back on the bed, and she lay still and stared up at him in wonder and growing unease. This was a powerful connection between them. She wondered if she would do something desperate to feel this again. Her mind was no longer her own; had she been seduced by his will?

He watched her face, and she saw the quiet understanding in his eyes. Without speaking, he gently pulled her smock up to cover her nakedness, then brought the coverlet up to her waist. Somehow this was worse, because she knew he sacrificed his own pleasure to show her just the beginnings of intimacy.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

And suddenly she wanted to be tired, to close her eyes and not see his face anymore. She had no control when she looked upon him, and it frightened her. She lowered her lids.

But she wasn’t sleepy, not really. She felt…invigorated, different, and her mind whirled trying to understand all the new sensations that her body experienced. She heard John moving about, and she realized that she didn’t know where he would sleep—on Philip’s pallet on the floor? With her?

That thought sent another quiver through her. She had to know. She opened her eyes the tiniest bit, looking at the chamber through her lashes. She saw John immediately, for he stood near the bathing tub.

To her shock, he was removing his clothing.

Of course he would, she told herself. He could not sleep in all of his garments. But then she realized that he might be planning to bathe.

She slammed her eyes shut again, mortified to intrude on such a private thing.

But hadn’t he just touched the most private parts of her? All she was going to do was look.

Once again, she peered through her lashes. John was just removing his shirt. She had seen parts of him before, when Rachel the healer had worked on his wounds. But the full breadth of his chest set off another quiver deep inside her. It was pleasurable and embarrassing, yet…she still continued to watch.

His muscles bulged where hers gently sloped. Hair was scattered across his chest and narrowed down his abdomen, which was ridged with more muscle. Scattered scars of combat were white lines of honor across his skin.

And then she remembered that he had not been able to wear hose, due to the splint on his lower leg. He only wore his braies, the barest scrap of linen about his loins. With his back to her, he removed them, and was naked.

His buttocks looked so firm and perfect that she wanted to touch them; she was scandalized by her own indecent thoughts. But since she’d had the pleasure of his intimate caresses, she discovered a yearning to explore him the same way. For now she used her eyes, and what they saw next could have blinded them.

He leaned over to feel the water in the tub, which must surely be cold by now. When he turned in profile, she saw his penis sticking straight outward from his body.

The inside of her suddenly throbbed, as if it needed him to be whole. She knew that male and female came together that way; her mother had not wanted her ignorant when her wedding night came. She hadn’t been able to imagine it then—but now it was fully evident.