Page 52 of To Protect

“That feels . . . so good.”

He redoubled his efforts, Roland wanting nothing more than to watch as Amalia found her pleasure. She was close, and admittedly, he was too.

“Roland.” She thrust her hips to meet him as he slowed his pace. That was enough to put Amalia over the edge. Pulling his hand from between them, Roland leaned over to kiss her just as Amalia’s entire body tensed.

With a final few thrusts, he lifted his head once more and came with her, Roland’s entire body seizing with the intensity of their joining. As the throbbing subsided, he continued to watch Amalia’s expression. More convinced than ever that she’d not experienced that before, even if she’d not been a virgin, a rush of protectiveness overcame him. Roland scooped Amalia into his arms, not pulling from her yet, and pulled her so they lay side by side. Wishing never to let go, he nearly bounded from the bed and fetched the priest immediately.

This woman would be his wife.

Finally, he did pull out of her, the brief separation giving them enough space that they could look upon one another.

“That was not like the other times,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, “it was not.”

“Surely you jest. You’ve been with so many women—”

“Amalia,” he said, pushing back a strand of her hair. “I’ve never made love to a woman that I intended to marry. I’ve not been in love before. No matter what anyone tells you—about my past or my intentions—believe this. I love you and will have no other in my bed from this day forward. It is you, and only you.”

She blinked. Believed him, hopefully.

“I am glad that brought you as much pleasure as it did me. And I believe you, Roland. That you love me. I will trust in your words, and no others, from this day forward.”

He kissed her nose, remembering one thing he had said. “And have no other man in your bed but me?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “Did that need to be said?”

“Perhaps not. But I would be certain. There are some marriages—”

“Ours will not be one of them.”

That he wanted reassurances from her told Roland all he needed to know about the truth of his feelings toward Amalia. Not once had he sought, or cared, for such assurances before.

“I would stay with you, if I could,” he said, not wanting to let go just yet.

“And I would have you stay. But ’twould cause quite the scandal, I am certain.”

“It might be worth a scandal.”

“Mayhap one scandal, that we are about to aid in overthrowing the king of England, is enough for this journey.”

“Mayhap you are right.” The elation of their lovemaking was replaced with a caution, a hesitation about their quest, that Roland did not wish to examine.