Page 102 of Bold Angel
Caryn did not argue. “Aye, my lord.” She glanced back at Geoffrey as she left the room. “The healing will improve with each day,” she told him. “’Twill not be long before you are back on your feet.”
And then what?Ral pondered.What plans have you for my wife then?He thought of the look on Geoffrey’s face when he had called Caryn his angel. What otherthoughts did he harbor? What were his intentions? Ral’s gaze followed Caryn’s retreating figure.
And what of you, sweet wife? Have these long hours with Geoffrey changed your feelings for me?In truth, he wasn’t certain what those feelings really were.
Ral clenched his fists, his thoughts still in turmoil as he left the sickroom. He meant to return to the bailey, to practice a few more hours with his men. Instead he turned toward the great hall, his strides long and suddenly determined. He found Caryn with Richard, discussing supplies for the hall and preparations for an upcoming saint’s day feast.
“I have need of you, Caryn,” he told her. “You will come with me upstairs.”
She hurried to his side, her face taut with concern. “What is it, my lord, what is wrong?”
“Naught is wrong,” he said, sweeping her into his arms at the top of the landing. “I only just discovered how much I have missed my wife these long days past. I have need of you and I mean to have you.”
Caryn sucked in a breath as he kicked open the door to their chamber then slammed it solidly behind them.
“’Tis the middle of the day, my lord. There is much that needs be done. I must—”
“Are not the needs of your husband more important?”
“Aye, but—” His hard kiss silenced her. She could feel the tension in his body, the muscles that tightened across his chest. They had made love last night, yet his desire for her seemed unabated. What in God’s name…?
But the question seemed a moot one as he carried her over to the bed, settled her there, and followed her down on the mattress. Kissing her fiercely, he pulled the combs from her hair and dragged his fingers through it, making her pulse pound with urgency. He found thelaces to her tunic, jerked them loose, pulled the fabric from her shoulders, and bared her breasts.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky, the sound of it sending shivers of heat through her body. “So high and full… and they belong only to me.” He took one into his mouth and began to suckle gently, his tongue damp and warm as it circled her nipple. Then his teeth took hold and he bit down just enough to bring a hot surge of pleasure-pain.
Caryn cried out at the feel of it, arching upward, heat swirling low in her belly. Beneath his mouth, her breasts were swelling, tingling, aching with every heartbeat.
“I need you, Cara.” His mouth took hers as his hand shoved up her tunic, his tongue teasing, then plunging deep inside. His touch was fire, his breath male and erotic, his hard-muscled body a testament to God’s handiwork.
Sweet Mary,she thought, wondering what drove him to such frenzy, responding with equal abandon as his fingers probed the place between her legs. She was wet and ready, damp and throbbing and on fire. He stroked her there while his mouth continued its plunder, while his hardness pressed against her, thick and pulsing and promising pleasures to come.
A finger slipped inside her, moved deep and withdrew, slid in and then out yet again. Then he was untying his chausses, spreading her legs even wider, positioning himself and driving himself inside.
Pleasure rippled through her, sweet and wildly erotic, his thick shaft filling her, huge and hot and hard. In minutes she was writhing beneath him, arching her back to meet each of his powerful thrusts. Thick bands of muscle bunched on his shoulders, sinews tightened across his broad chest. Again and again, he drove into her, frenzied in a way she’d never seen him, riding her hard and deep, laying claim to her in a manner that set her ablaze with fiery need.
“Come with me,cherie,” he whispered, but it was more command than plea. Caryn’s body answered as if it had no choice, obeying his will with shimmering spasms of pleasure, her body contracting, quivering, clenching with wave after wave of delicious heat.
He drew her to the edge of the bed and lifted her legs to his shoulders, positioning them there, burying himself deeper, stirring a second hot spasm of pleasure. Still he drove on.
In seconds she was soaring once more. Upward to that high plateau, riding the crest of her passion, her fingers biting into taut muscle then fisting the covers, her head thrashing back and forth as she cried out his name.
“Aye, ’tis what I had hoped for,” he said, though his jaw was clenched for control. “Remember the pleasure,ma chere.Remember the man who has made you feel this way.”
Four more deep pounding strokes and he reached his own release, his head falling back, the muscles straining in his neck and shoulders, his powerful biceps bulging as he spilled his seed.
Time seemed to still. The room grew dim and then faded away. Caryn barely felt him leave her. She was far too thoroughly pleasured, too sated and content.
Ral bent over and kissed her cheek. “’Tis rest you need not a riding such as that one. You are not yet fully recovered. I should not have been so demanding.” At the soft glow on her face, he smiled roguishly. “Still, I cannot say I am sorry.”
Feeling content as he hadn’t in days, Ral left his small wife curled among the tousled bed covers, her expression drowsy, her lids half-closed, her beautiful auburn hair a tangled mass around her shoulders.
Far more confident than he had been when he had left Geoffrey’s sickroom, he made his way back to thegreat hall. By supper he was more himself and by the end of the day, he had conquered his uneasy feelings altogether.
What Caryn felt for Geoffrey was nothing more than friendship. It was her husband who commanded her small woman’s body. Her husband and no other.
Ral intended it should remain that way.
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