‘I did no such thing,’ he said hoarsely, wiping her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
‘If this was the way you wanted matters to be between us, then why, for the love of God, didn’t you take my offer that first night after we made our vows? Then you could have found another woman to tend to your needs whilst we made a pretence of our marriage.’
‘I could never have done that.’ His fingers lingered on her face, wiping her tears away.
‘Then why did you make me care? Why?’ she whispered.
‘Don’t...please don’t cry,’ he said gently.
‘Saints above, Hugh, I’m not crying!’ she replied, throwing her arms up in the air.
But she realised with mortification that her cheeks were indeed damp. She groaned with embarrassment.
What must he think of her?
Eleanor had always been adept at hiding her true feelings and yet here she was, in front of the man she had such conflicting feelings for, totally exposed. Hugh had somehow managed to crawl intrusively beneath her defences and take down every one of her perfectly constructed walls.
Dear God, she wanted him. She needed him. If only just to make this horrible, suffocating ache in her chest go away.
Hugh watched her for a moment and then he sighed, shaking his head. He dipped his head and pressed his lips gently to hers, and this time she let him kiss her.
But it wasn’t enough.
Eleanor curled her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything she had. And then she slipped the tip of her tongue tentatively into his mouth.
Hugh growled as he felt Eleanor’s tongue sliding against his. He plunged his fingers into her hair and around the back of her neck, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, tasting and devouring her.
By God, he wanted her...
All thought, all his perfectly good intentions about keeping his distance from her, had melted away the moment she had revealed to him how she felt.
Why did you make me care?
Did she truly care about him? Eleanor was an enigma to him, so who could tell? But there was her anger, the pain that strangely mirrored his own. He had seen it and he’d felt it.
Hugh had purposely kept away from Eleanor and observed her, wondering whether anyone else was involved with the outlaws—even here at court, however unlikely that might seem. But he’d only noted her misery and loneliness and his heart had gone out to her.
He knew he had to be vigilant and watchful, but he’d hated seeing her like that...knowing that he was the cause. So he’d run after her when she had stormed out of the hall.
And now all that was left was a desire so strong that it pulsated through him. All he could think about was his desperate, hopeless need for her. He realised, as he kissed her with every pent-up emotion that he’d thought discarded and ignored, that Eleanor had been hurting just as much as he. She had felt jealous, confused, and so very angry with him.
Without breaking the kiss he lifted her as she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his hips, and carried her to bed.
‘I can’t seem to stop wanting you, woman,’ he whispered, and he nipped her bottom lip, hearing her gasp against his mouth.
‘Is that such a terrible thing?’ she asked, burying her head into his neck as he laid her down on the soft mattress.
‘Yes. Yes, it is. It is not how a sane, grown man should behave.’ He broke away, hovering above her.
‘If it’s any consolation, I cannot stop wanting you either.’
He kissed her hungrily, open-mouthed. ‘Good,’ he said, pushing his tongue through the soft opening of her lips, seeking and demanding, willing her mouth to spar with his sensually.
‘Eleanor...’ he groaned, and he got up, his breathing ragged, looking at her with her hair falling in waves around the curve of her neck and down her shoulders. Her chest moved up and down quickly and her mouth was parted: pink, wet and swollen from his kisses.
Hugh groaned again and hurriedly pulled his tunic over his head, then stripped off his braies and hose quickly. In his rush to get back to Eleanor he tripped over the end of his hose, which was stuck to his ankles. He bounced up and down as he pulled it off, a mop of dark hair falling over his eyes.
‘It seems that I can’t stop falling at your feet either.’
Hugh smiled sheepishly as Eleanor giggled at his eagerness.
‘Stop laughing, woman,’ he said, shaking his head.
Eleanor covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying to curb her amusement at his clumsiness. One moment she had been crying miserably and now she was laughing at him. It was a sudden change, so very like Eleanor, and it made her seem achingly young and innocent.
‘Turn around so I can help with the ties at the back of your gown.’
With deft fingers Hugh untied her woollen dress and pulled it off her shoulders, his hands gliding down her smooth skin. Eleanor turned back, the laughter now gone from her lips. She inhaled deeply and then pulled her sheer cream-coloured tunic over her head and tossed it on the floor.
She sat there, facing him on the bed in all her naked glory, her eyes never leaving his. He gently pushed her down on the soft cushions and followed, covering her with his body, his hands caressing down the length of her, tracing the soft curves.
She smiled at him, desire swirling in her eyes. She had never looked so lovely, so utterly beautiful. So much so that it made his chest feel tight and his breath catch in his throat.
Hugh pushed those feelings aside and entered her warm, welcoming body, making her tremble visibly. He felt as though he was
