Chapter Seven

Alex slowly surfaced from sleep into consciousness. His body burned with need. Though she slumbered, Cora rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing herself against his body. He watched, breathless, as her lips parted, releasing a soft moan in her sleep. He spread his fingers wide and caressed her stomach, pulling her even closer. His lips and tongue forged a trail down the hot skin of her neck and shoulder. Suddenly awake, she turned in his arms and looked up at him with eyes that were limpid slits filled with ardor. Her tongue darted out and licked her parted lips, beaconing him. He descended upon her mouth, kissing her hard and deep. She groaned and pulled him on top of her, demanding more. She reached out and cupped his face, her tongue delving between his lips, coaxing the flames of his desire to rise higher.

He looked down into her sultry, sky blue eyes. Her full lips shone red and swollen with passion. Strands of golden hair had fallen loose from her long, thick braid. He caressed the tendrils between his fingers, wishing he could free the golden bounty and shroud himself in the soft bower. Her fingers laced behind his head, pulling his lips to meet hers once more. He covered her with his body, his hands caressing down her slim waist and the sides of her hips. Her skin felt like fire to touch, even through the fabric of her tunic. Both of their breaths were labored, but her chest rose with great heaves and her back arched, pressing her breasts, hot and hard, against his chest. His lips trailed down her neck, blazing a searing path over her hot skin. He tasted the salty, lusty flavor of her sweat that beaded down the valley of her tempting curves. She moaned and pulled at his shoulders, tearing the fabric of his shirt.

With a start, he jerked back. Their eyes locked. The sky blue of her irises appeared even more iridescent, glowing in the dim light of the fire. She pulled him down again with surprising strength. Her mouth claimed his. His heart beat wild with need. His hands reached down and grabbed a handful of her tunic, pulling the hem higher and higher until it bunched around her waist. His hands stroked her hot, firm thighs. She cried out and spread her legs, opening herself to him. He could smell her body, wet and hungry for his. He was hard and throbbing. He wanted to fill her, to drive himself deep into her ready warmth. She arched against him. He could feel her straining to open herself. She cried out the instant before a staggering pain tore down his back, causing him to seize. He wrenched free from her grasp, moving out of reach.

WHAT HAD SHE DONE? Was there nothing with which she could be trusted?

She closed her eyes. His heart pounded her mind. Breathe. Just Breathe. She had to regain control. With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his stunned gaze. His chest heaved while he stared at her. Pain and yearning played a confused dance across his face.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt ye."

His hand swiped at his back.

She gasped when she saw his bloody fingertips. "Oh, God. Oh, Alex. Forgive me." She sat up and scurried toward him on her knees. "Show me your back."

He hesitated for a moment but then turned. Her hands flew to her mouth to contain the cry that pushed against her lips. His shirt hung in tatters. Long, angry welts dripped with blood where she had raked her nails down his back. She had not meant to hurt him. Overcome with desire, she had lost control and forgot her strength.

"It feels as if I've had a nasty encounter with a lash," he said. His body jerked when she touched him. Tears filled her eyes. His estimation of the damage was not far off.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt ye. I...I've never been intimate in that way with a man. I didn't know what to expect. I never knew it could be like that."

He turned then, wincing. He stared her hard in the eye, but she looked away from his scrutiny.

"When ye put it like that ‘tis rather flattering," he said.

She looked up to see the smile she had heard in his voice. Blushing, her hands moved to cover her face.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her into his arms.

She laid her head against his chest. His strong arms surrounded her. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck for a moment longer, she took a deep breath, then pulled away. She was not the one in need of care.

"Allow me to right this wrong," She motioned for him to turn back around.

"Have ye any experience dressing wounds?" he asked, nervously. "I can wake Jamie."

"Don't ye dare. I'd die of embarrassment. Anyway, more than likely he is awake and feigns sleep as a courtesy, which I'm only too happy to accept. Now, sit still. This might sting." She reached for the flask of ale and made a show of ripping a portion of her tunic and opening the flask. But then quietly she closed it and set it aside. She held the scrap of tunic to her lips and wet the fabric with her tongue. Gently, she stroked the cloth over his seeping skin. After several swipes, the bleeding slowly began to stop.

"Ye've a gentle touch," he said. Then he chuckled. "Well, your touch can be gentle."

She smiled at his jest. Still, a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. Her touch could bring death, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Already the pain is less," he said.

Again she moistened the fabric with her tongue. She could not heal the long gashes entirely, but she had fully quelled the bleeding, and the wound appeared less angry.

"Ye'll live," she whispered.

He turned to face her, but she could not meet his gaze.

"Don't fret. It feels much better now. Forgive me. I must have overreacted."

She let him pull her back into his arms. Cradling her, he lay back on the blankets. Once more he curled around her from behind. She nestled against his chest and allowed herself several deep breaths.

"Just rest, my wife," he whispered in her ear.

His wife.

She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. She was not a wife. She was a monster.