Page 51 of To Protect

“I will marry you,” Roland said. “When the empress is installed as queen, we will go to my father. Having supported the true sovereign of England, I will be in a much different position than when I left. And I will tell him of us, get his blessing.”

“From all you’ve told me of him, it seems unlikely he will give it.”

Roland did not wish to think of that particular circumstance. “He must. We’ve no need of more land, and with my family having supported Stephen, it will be my contribution to Matilda’s cause that will save us from losing everything.”

“If he does not?”

Roland’s jaw set. He’d made his decision on that front as well. “If he does not, I will forge a new path. We,” he amended, “will forge a new path.”

He thought his answer would please her, but Amalia did not seem pleased at all. Roland went to her. Took her hands in his. Rubbing circles on her palms with his thumbs, he spoke sincerely. “I was raised to be the next earl of de Vere. And while it is a role I would very much like to fulfill, I made peace before, twice, that it may not happen. I’d not have repudiated the betrothal or joined the Guardians of the Sacred Oak if I was not prepared to forsake my inheritance.”

“The thought weighs heavily on me, that you could be forced to give up so much.”

“I would be gaining more. Amalia, I’ve not known love until now. But I’ve no doubt that I’ve fallen deeply in love with you. I think of nothing else. Desire no other woman. You are unlike any others, and I wish to spend my days with you alone.”

He’d not prepared to say the words, uncertain if she would return them, but Roland meant them nonetheless. Watching as her eyes filled with tears, he waited for her response. A wait unlike any he’d ever experienced before.

“I’ve loved you since our first kiss.”

It was all she said, but it was more than enough. In response, Roland leaned down to kiss her again. This time, the touch was slow and sensual. When his tongue tangled with her own, it was not meant to overwhelm but to arouse. Roland slanted his head to the side, pulling Amalia toward him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed that way for some time. It was Amalia that pulled away first.

“Make me yours in truth, Roland.”

He looked into her eyes. Looked for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He considered the consequences. She had nothing to prevent a babe, and there was little chance Roland could pull from her once they started. But he’d meant the words he spoke. He preferred his father’s blessing, but Roland’s desire to retain the earldom was not stronger than his need to be with Amalia.

Matilda would be sworn in as the next queen very soon. His duty at Blackwood was completed. They would go directly to his father, and their fates would be decided. Either way, he would not be parted from her.

Reaching down, he pulled off his boots and removed his chausses as Amalia climbed into the bed, moving up toward the pillow. When he joined her, the magnitude of what they were about to do overtook him.

Suddenly impatient to see her, as Amalia aided him, Roland removed her shift. She wore nothing underneath it, and seeing her breasts for the first time, he could not decide what to worship first.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his hands everywhere at once. Kneeling between her legs, Roland worshipped every bit of Amalia’s body. He ran his hands up her waist, his fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, before Roland allowed himself to cover both completely. They filled his hands, and as he began to rub his thumbs over the peaks of Amalia’s nipples, she reached up, tugging on his linen shirt.

Momentarily taking his hands from her, Roland lifted his shirt off his head.

Amalia’s expression would be one he’d never forget. Eyes wide, worshipping him as he had done her, Amalia reached up to touch his stomach.

“So strong,” she said, her hands roaming as freely as his had a moment ago. Closing his eyes, Roland relished the touch. There was an intensity to it, to Amalia’s exploration, that no other touch before hers could rival.

He opened his eyes.

Held onto both of Amalia’s thighs, and gently pushed them open. As she watched, he ran his hand up one of her sweet thighs until his fingers found their goal. Slipping one inside, he cursed the men she’d been with before, who clearly had not taken the time to give her pleasure—the look of surprise on her face at what he was doing was not lost on him.

With a second finger, Roland ensured she was ready for him. Amalia moaned, circled her hips, and thrust to meet his touch.

“Roland, please.”

He knew what she wanted, and Roland was more than ready to give it to her. Positioning himself between her legs, he pulled out his finger and then slowly entered her. Little by little, giving Amalia time to adjust, he strained with the effort of taking it slow. So slow, that by the time he was fully inside her, Amalia was already pushing against him.

Roland met her thrust with one of his own, holding himself above her, wanting to see her face. “I would kiss you while we make love, Amalia, but I wish to see you too.”

She stared into his eyes, the love she’d professed evident. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, this joining of two people, becoming one. Roland reached his hand down between them, determined to bring Amalia to climax before he found his own.

“Roland,” she said, his name on her lips, in that tone, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Aye, love?” he asked, already knowing what she wanted.