35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

"I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days—three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain."John KeatsIsabel lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her skin at once sensitive and numb. She had just given away her virginity, not as a wife, but as a prisoner. Too tired to think, she shut the censorship. During the long carriage ride to Salamanca, she would allow thoughts to beset her. Her heart fluttered against her ribcage like a trapped cicada. If only she could turn it off, too. Snuggling closer to Henrique, she closed her eyes, craving sleep’s oblivion.

The rumble of waves outside combined with Henrique’s breathing. Abruptly, he climbed out of bed and bent to the fire’s dying embers. Isabel watched as light caressed the sinews of his back. He was a well-formed male. Bronzed and hard, as comfortable naked as in evening attire. It was brazen of her to stare, but she was no longer a maiden. Certainly, that entitled her to look her fill. So she opened her eyes wide, hoping his contours would burn into her memory. Muscles made golden by the fire’s glow, Henrique was every inch a Greek god. She could well imagine Alcmene’s breathless thrill at being visited by such a being. He padded back, his gaze eliciting a shiver in her cooling skin.

"You didn’t need to bother with the fire. I’m not cold."

"I want to see you."

Isabel pulled the covers up to her chin. Surely, there was nothing new by now. He tugged the bedsheets, and Isabel was not fast enough to secure them. The linen brushed against her breasts, titillating as it exposed her. The mattress sunk under his weight as he stretched by her side. He had yet to touch her, but his gaze, serious and intense, singed her skin.

Squirming, Isabel covered her breasts. "Have you looked your fill?"

"Not in a thousand years."

Breathing the words into her lips, he pulled her arms apart and circled the flesh he uncovered with whispery caresses as if to gentle it to him. Whatever patch she protested could not be touched, he tickled, kissed, and licked. She was perspiring when he arrived at her inner thighs, her breathing shallow.

Would he leave her no place to hide? She must not allow him inside her heart. This one-night arrangement could not obliterate her duty. Trying to keep detached from the onslaught of his kisses, Isabel turned to her side, away from him. Undaunted, Henrique flung her onto her stomach and leaned over her, rubbing his furry legs over the back of her thighs.

Her duty. She could not forget her duty. Still, obligations were fluid and abstract, while Henrique, with his hairy, rough skin and sinewy limbs, was more real than king, country, court... everything.

Following the line of her spine, he trailed his finger between her buttocks and touched her entrance, a soft brush of his fingertips. "Are you sore?"

Isabel flushed. "You didn’t hurt me when you—"

"Gave you pleasure beyond imagination?"

Isabel bit the inside of her cheek so as not to laugh. The man’s conceit knew no bounds. "Well, if you must know, it was… wetter than I expected, and er… salty."

"Salty?" He growled against her neck and nipped her between her shoulder blades. "You wound me, wench."

She struggled, rubbing her naked breasts against the mattress. He flung himself atop her, kneading her waist and buttocks. His heat branded her thighs, and Isabel shuddered, a sensuous shiver blooming from the spot to her core.

"You slander my performance, but I’m as hard as a randy goat for you again." He thrust his hips against her derrière, and his hardness brushed against her entrance.

"Randy goat? I thought we were playing Zeus and Alcmene."

Another teasing thrust, this time penetrating her, just the tip.

"I’m very much flesh and blood, but when I’m inside you"—Henrique gave her another inch—"I feel close to the gods."

Her core tingled when he brushed against her, and she gasped. She didn’t know there were other ways of making love.

"I shouldn’t take you like a stallion mounting a mare. You deserve to be loved like a goddess."

Isabel stilled. If they did it like this, like mindless creatures, she wouldn’t need to experience that intimacy again. Tilting her hips backward, she tried to lure him deeper.

He grabbed the indenture of her waist and paused above her. "You tempt me beyond words, Isa."

Flexing his knees, his breathing harsh, he buried himself to the hilt. Isabel screamed against the pillow. When she thought she would faint, he pulled her up against him into a kneeling position. A looming presence behind her, he grabbed her breasts, circling her nipples. Then he lowered his caresses to her stomach and finally to where they were joined. Isabel dropped her head against his chest, dizzy with pleasure. He massaged her wrists and pressed her spine until they were on all fours. He lowered himself atop her, his chest glued to her back. Isabel whimpered, breathless, her skin so sensitive she feared spontaneous combustion. The new position left her open to him. He possessed her with deep strokes. Pleasure built in a crescendo, but without looking into his eyes, it was hollow. She wanted more.

"I need—"

"What do you need, love?"

"You. I need you."

He flipped her onto her back. Hooking his hands under her knees, he came inside her. His eyes sought hers, and she allowed herself to be swept into the blue depths. The contact of their skin, heated and wet with perspiration, made her moan, and she clasped her arms around his neck. It assuaged something inside her, but it was never enough. She needed more.

He kept a steady, too-slow rhythm, touching her deeply for a spare second and then withdrawing completely. Isabel writhed on the bed, straining her hips, wanting more, wanting all.

Isabel cried out when he gave her a shallow thrust and pulled away. "Stay—inside. Please." She couldn’t bear him gone for even the backlash of his thrusts.

Smiling, he kissed her mouth and thrust, burying himself inside her. "There. I won’t leave you again."

He was so deep, he touched her soul.

Isabel burst into a thousand flames and whimpered, clasping her arms around him.

No, but I will.

One could get used to sleeping with Henrique. He was a natural source of heat. His aroma was clean, with a pleasant pine undertone. His purr was soothing, and his presence affected her in a way she couldn’t understand, much less describe. It was as if… Every day and every night, she labored to arrive somewhere. With him, tucked against his chest, his heart beating against her spine, she arrived. In his arms, she realized how exhausting it was to be always in control.

She savored the predawn hours until sunlight crept into the tower.

Henrique rolled to his back, one arm flung over his face, the sheets tangled around his legs. His mouth was soft, inviting. She shifted closer, her hand tingling to brush away a few strands from his forehead. It had been a night of myth. A flutter started in her stomach, a feeling of emptiness. What would happen if—No, she would not think about it. A ray of sunlight invaded the arrow slit, drawing a line between Henrique and her.

The night was over.

She stood, her legs weighted by invisible greaves. Her chest was so tight, as if Sophie had fastened a metal corset over her bedclothes. It was best this way. She could not renege on her duties. The cold slabs covering the floor frosted her feet. She was not betraying him. They had an agreement. One night. No guilt, no consequences. That was what he wanted and what she needed. It was broad daylight now, and passion could not last beyond Eros’ shadows.

After tiptoeing to the table, she picked up his coat and brushed it against her cheek, cherishing the texture. The key was cold and hard against her palm, and she stared at it, resenting the brass piece as if it were responsible for all her woes.

His voice, muffled by sleep, reached her. "Good morning."

Isabel slid the key into her robe pocket. Her gaze strayed to the door. If she darted to the exit, she could lock him inside before he chased her.

"Come back to bed."

Isabel turned slowly.

Henrique leaned on his side, naked beneath the sheets. The white cotton contrasted with his bronzed skin. He lifted a hand, palm up. His gaze was open and seductive. The memory of their night flooded her with heat.

Pressing her lips together, she cursed the light invading the tower. What if she closed the shutters? But it would still be day, and her country would still be at risk. “Our night is over.” Her voice wavered.

He rose, his long, long legs hoisting his masculinity until he towered a head over her. Completely at ease with his nakedness, he walked until only her robe separated her from his warm skin.

Delicately, he placed both his hands over her shoulders and kneaded softly. "What if we made our night last forever?"

"Forever?" Isabel gasped, her gaze delving into his. A part of her wrested free and fluttered inside her chest, bumping against her ribcage. A part she had learned to guard since her infancy, a part she had forgotten existed.

He caressed her forearm and took her hand in his. He kissed her palm and placed it above his chest. His heartbeat thudded, alive and insistent. She could tell him about her plans… But how? The mere mention of Alfonso’s name had put him in a rage. A sinking sensation spread to her chest, weighting her limbs. Myths would come true before he understood.

"It is not possible." She glanced away, staring at their rumpled bed.

"Nothing is impossible for Zeus." He smiled against her palm and licked.

Isabel’s sigh came from deep inside her, a place only he reached.

"I’m not a woman from myth, and you are not a god." She touched his cheek. The grain of his stubble titillated her fingertips. "We are mortals. Would you not tire of me? You said it yourself… Monogamy is not in our nature."

Isabel turned away from him. She could leave his spell.

Henrique brushed his lips against her palm. When he looked at her, the blue fire was hers alone, hypnotic. There were secrets hidden inside its walls, secrets that whispered to her, and only her. Against her will, she lifted her chin, searching for his kiss.

"It happens infrequently, mind you," he said as he nipped her earlobe. "But you might as well learn of it now."

"Hmm?" She could not form words with him drawing circles over her forearms.

"There is the rare occasion when I am wrong."

He pulled her robe’s cinch and bared her to him completely.

The brush of naked skin against naked skin immolated her denial. When he lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed, she told herself they deserved another night, and she wasn’t ignoring her duty… The housekeeper’s son would come only tomorrow.

And then he bit the indenture of her waist, and her thoughts scattered.