A soft kiss landed on her temple and then several more. They were mere whispers he trailed along her cheek and across the column of her neck before pulling his flesh from her body. A quiver went through her as pain pinched her sheath.
“It will not hurt like that again.”
She suddenly laughed at him. Even in the dark she noticed his eyebrow rise.
“You know so much about virgins, do you, my lord?”
He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest and walking toward the bed.
“I agree that I do not understand you well.” The bed shook when he laid her upon it. He pushed the thick coverlet over and leaned far into the bed.
“Yet that is a matter we shall discuss once the sun has risen.”
The bed shook once more as he left it. Tears pricked her eyes in spite of how ridiculous it was to feel lonely. She was not some child who needed cuddling. She listened to his feet making contact with the floor and forced herself to pull the coverlet across her body. When it touched her bare skin, she recalled that her chemise was lying on the floor somewhere. With a sound of frustration, she pushed the coverlet back off and sat up.
“Be still, Bridget, you sleep with me.”
“With you?”
The bed shook once more as he placed a knee upon it. He reached out and gently pressed her down onto her back with a single hand. Another quick motion and he pulled the edge of the coverlet over her once again.
“Your hearing is excellent.”
The light from the window didn’t reach all the way to the bed, and the curtains kept most of it out, but Curan was still outside the bed and she watched him lean over to prop his sword against the wall directly beside the bed. As soon as he finished, he rolled over to take the place beside her, lying on his back and stretching his feet out toward the footboard.
“Morning will come soon enough.”
He hooked an arm beneath her and pulled her alongside him. Bridget put her hands out to stop herself from colliding with him but might as well have saved herself the effort. He folded her into his embrace, even raising one of his knees between her legs to keep her near him. She ended up draped along his side, with one of his arms curled around her waist and the hand resting on her hip, while his opposite hand pressed her head down onto his shoulder.
She wiggled, uncertain how to respond. He sighed and pulled the coverlet over them both. She was suddenly so tired, but also keenly aware of how her body adjusted to lie comfortably against his. As though nature had designed the genders to lie just so after passion was satisfied.
Such a tempting idea …
Her body liked it well enough. Satisfaction was like the glow of fire coals on a winter night. Her body was basking in it. Curan shifted, his hand smoothing along her waist and hip.
“I need my chemise.”
“I disagree.” His hand wandered up to cup a breast. “You are not cold, and I enjoy the feel of you against me. I have marched an army across a border to feel you against me, Bridget, so be still.”
His fingers landed on top of her lips, sealing her next comment behind them. What was the use in arguing? The man was impossible when it came to changing his mind. She was too tired to attempt to coax him into agreeing with her anyway. Her body relaxed and demanded rest.
Curan did not sleep as quickly as his bride did. Yet that was not a burden. He listened to the way her breathing softened and felt her body become relaxed against his. He was in awe, his fingers lightly skimming over her skin just to test if she were real. Bridget had lived in his dreams for a thousand nights. Three years of thinking of this moment when they would at last be together. He did not begrudge his king his service, but he would be a liar if he did not admit to longing to lay his head down in his own bed with his family sharing the same roof.
Yet his bride was not content by his side. That tormented him. He remained awake, savoring the way she clung to him, for once the sun rose he would have to renew his struggle to keep her.
Bridget jerked awake but discovered that she could not move. She was held in an iron embrace against Curan’s body. The window shutters were still wide open, and dawn was casting its first pink stain across the horizon.
A shuffle on the floor drew her attention to the one curtain that was still open.
“Sweet mercy …”
Her voice was a mere whisper, and the men standing in the chamber all averted their eyes. Synclair kept his gaze directly on Curan’s face, somehow managing to not look at her lying on his lord’s shoulder.
Curan suddenly released her and sat up. He tucked the coverlet behind him as he moved, shielding her nude body from his men.
“The proof you seek is on the table.”
The men all turned and moved almost in the same moment Curan spoke.
“Proof?”
Curan stepped into his pants that he must have brought alongside the bed last night, and pulled them up before looking back at her. His expression was cast in stone once again, making her wonder just who had slept with her so tenderly all night long.
“The stain will not be on this sheet.”
Stain … Her face turned scarlet and she cupped her hands over her cheeks, but couldn’t stop her gaze from darting over to the table. Synclair held Curan’s shirt up to the morning light. In the golden glow, the creamy linen
