Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [56]
“I’ll try,” she told him, her voice quavering despite herself. Damn him, the very touch of his hand upon her waist, the sensation of his fingers in her hair, were sending her senses spinning. She fought to regain her equilibrium, but his nearness, the size and power and dark, wild ferocity of him had a dizzying effect that slurred her tongue even as she tried to fire back a sharp retort.
I’ll try? What kind of a weak, blathering response was that?
“But I shan’t run from an opportunity to repay Julian for all the suffering he’s brought…”
Nicholas made a sound like a growl deep in his throat and hauled her closer, holding her so tightly that she thought her ribs would crack.
“What am I going to do with you, woman?” he snarled, and Arianne, to steady herself from the thunderous emotions whirling through her, grasped his massive shoulders and spoke the first silly words that sprang to her lips.
“Kiss me as you did Marta!”
Dead silence shook the chamber. The candles hissed and sputtered. Shadows danced.
“Do…what? Like I did…who?”
Now a blush as fiery as a rose swept across her cheeks. “Marta…my mother’s c-cousin. I saw you kiss her at a banquet that last time in Galeron…in the alcove. I was hiding.”
His eyes darkened, turning the color of night. “And?”
Staring into those eyes, held in those arms, Arianne felt a compulsion to speak the yearning in her heart, a foolish, idiotic yearning that had been hidden there for ten long years.
“I always wondered what it would be like were you to kiss me in that way,” she whispered.
She saw the astonishment cross his face, then a flicker of laughter, immediately followed by an indefinable gleam in those keen eyes. She saw a muscle pulse in his jaw.
“It is a knight’s duty to oblige a lady.” He shifted her up against him so that her mouth was only a breath away from his.
She wanted to run. Couldn’t. Wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind. Didn’t dare to. She found herself held in an iron grip, pinned against his towering and hard-muscled body.
She wanted this kiss. Oh, dear Lord, she wanted this kiss. Yet she feared appearing foolish, young, far too innocent. She didn’t know how to kiss him back. Where to put her hands, how to form her lips.
No one like Nicholas had ever kissed her before.
Breathless, she watched his face lower toward hers, felt herself drowning in those cool, oddly intense eyes that seemed to read her very soul.
“One kiss, Lady Arianne. One.”
Then his mouth descended upon hers, claiming it as a knight would claim a battlefield.
A shock like lightning quivering through a birch tree ran through her. A shimmering fire caught and held.
The kiss was gentle. But not so gentle that she didn’t feel the ripple of power from him, the control he was exercising, the deliberation. She wanted suddenly to startle him out of that control, to make him want her as she wanted him.
Her lips clung to his, parted, heat flaring from her to him, her arms circling his neck and tightening.
Nicholas knew he should stop after that one kiss. He’d meant to, but she tasted like summer honey and autumn spice. Shock ran through him—and something else. Desire. With an oath, Nicholas twisted his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss. He heard her soft gasp, knew a swift, grim satisfaction, and then he felt her entire body quiver as his mouth explored the curve of her lips with rough, demanding thoroughness. He took his time, tasting and savoring.
“Arianne,” he muttered at last, lifting his head, letting her breathe, but before she could speak, he backed her against the hard stone wall, held her there helpless, and kissed her yet again.
He didn’t want to stop. Was damned if he would stop…
Unless she wanted him to…
Her full, soft breasts were pressed against him, straining, yearning. He felt her tremble in his arms like a wild creature.
Careful, he warned himself, even as he claimed her mouth still, ruthless with the wanting of it. A voice inside shouted that