36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

"If the butterfly wings its way to the sweet light that attracts it, it’s only because it doesn’t know that the fire can consume it." Giordano BrunoKneeling behind the Turkish bath the count had the foresight to install in the tower, Henrique washed Isabel’s hair. The heat had relaxed her to the point of sensual languidness, but he was far from fooled. She had been about to flee this morning. The thought brought an emptiness to his chest, and he kissed the top of her head to dispel it.

She allowed him to pleasure her freely, but her mind was still locked behind a wall, unbreachable. While they talked about science and myths, and she asked questions about lovemaking that made him ravenous, they spoke not about the future.

But he wanted to.

It would take more than words to convince her, especially since he had hammered the point of infidelity ad nauseam. But there was never a woman he could not conquer. Granted, Isabel was different—cunning and intelligent, strong. Henrique glanced at the sunrays shining through the window. Not even she could stay immune to the outdoor wooing he had planned.

She relaxed her head over the tub’s rim, and a contented smile left her lips. "I think Sophie will be miffed you stole her duties."

"Miffed? She is probably dancing up and down the stairs, relieved to the roots of her French braids."

Isabel laughed and sprinkled his face with water. "Is it such a hardship to serve me?"

He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. Then he placed it atop his cock. Her sharp intake of breath was a clear sign she understood just how hard it was.

"Sophie is an excellent lady’s maid, but my princess will see the advantages of keeping me in the position."

"I don’t know… Sophie is loyal."

"Hmm." He let go of her hand and leaned over the tub. "But can she do this?" He circled her nipples until they puckered, and then he lowered his hand under the water’s surface. A groan escaped his throat when her legs opened for him.

She arched her back, her hips rising to meet him, and he grunted. Impatient now, he made her stand. The outing could wait. When he palmed her thigh and pulled her leg up, opening a path to her core, they both hissed.

Slowly, he tested her wetness with his fingers. She arched her hips into his hand, and Henrique withdrew.

She glared at him.

"You won’t tumble me like a common heathen this time, wench."

Water glistened on her skin. Her eyes flashed green fire, and she bit her lip, watching as he folded a towel in two. Gently, he placed the sole of her feet on the tub’s rim. With one leg up, Henrique exposed her to him.

"Look at you, so pink and pretty. I think you deserve a kiss." His mouth watered, thirsty for her secret taste. If he drowned in it, he would die a happy man. Holding her hips, he sucked her slowly, allowing her pleasure to build in waves.

She moaned and arched her back. Her flight came swiftly, her sheath clenching against his tongue.

“Please, Henrique, no more.”

He wasn’t ready to let go yet. "One more flight. For me."

This time, she bucked against him, and incoherent sounds escaped her mouth.

He rose and caught her in his arms before she collapsed. He was painfully hard, the exact opposite of his Isa, now soft and languid, liquid fire.

He placed her atop the table, and she blinked at his cock, jutting out against his stomach.

"Can I touch it?"

His pulse sped. "Absolutely not. Cocks are susceptible to yanking, as Priapus might tell if he still could talk. Your hands are deceptively strong." Henrique caught her wrists and kissed the pad of her finger.

His cock jerked to attention.

"He doesn’t seem to mind." Tentatively, tenderly, she traced the head and stroked his length.

He held still, concentrating on not spilling in her hands. "He is simple-minded. His mind has a simple goal: to enter you."

Licking her lips, she measured him with her palms. "Though you are more proportioned than Priapus, I still don’t understand how you didn’t run me through with your mighty sword."

He grinned. "You will make him vain."

"More? Impossible." Her mischievous grin made his heart pound.

Leaning forward, he tasted her smile, licking the seam of her lips. She closed her eyes. He arranged her hair over her shoulders and leaned back to admire her. Naked atop the desk, her skin flushed from the bath, her legs closed primly in front of her—she was his erotic fantasies come true.

"You posed a valid anatomic question. We shall try to answer it." He clutched her knees and slowly opened her legs.

She didn’t resist, her gaze following the contrast between his brown hands, so different from the cream of her thighs.

Occupying the space between her legs, he wetted the tip of his cock at her entrance and hissed at the pressure on his spine. He pushed half his length inside her.

She gasped, arching her breasts. He accepted her offer, kissing and sucking the swollen tips.

"That’s it, now be a good princess and take me all in." He grabbed her buttocks, bent his knees, and thrust. Bright points burst under his eyelids at having penetrated her so deeply. He rested his forehead on her neck. She was breathing heavily, her sheath pulsing against him.

"It is a measure of your eagerness that we must make love standing up," she panted, her words ruffling the scruff on his chest.

"It is a measure of how much I want you that I cannot wait."

He should be careful with her. Yesterday, she was a virgin. But when she licked his nipple, her little teeth sinking into him, her heels digging into his flanks, a mythic beast unleashed within him. He thrust savagely, like a man possessed, like an animal in heat, like a randy god. When the ripples of pleasure caught her, she arched her back, her nails sinking into his shoulders. Henrique pushed inside her one more time and exploded, a shuddering release that left him gasping for breath, holding her tightly against his chest.

His legs threatened to give out on him, and before he crumpled, he lifted her from the table. On the way to the bed, Henrique paused, entranced by their joined reflection, much like Narcissus gazing upon the pond. The Venetian mirror reflected his darkness to her fairness, her softness to his roughness. His mate in sensuality and intellect.

His hands, sun-bronzed and rough, seemed indecent against her lily-white buttocks, and the enormity of his action crashed down on him. She wasn’t a lady he had stolen from a husband, but a princess he had taken from a country that loved and respected her.

As his gaze lowered to the place where his flesh met hers, a primal feeling took hold of him. She was his, damn the country. Only he could make her fly.

"Don’t leave me yet," Isabel whispered, clinging to him.

His breath caught. "Are you sure you have not some peasant stock in your royal lineage? I never saw a lustier wench."

Without withdrawing from her tight sheath, he kneeled on the mattress and lowered his weight atop her.

"Look who is saying." She laughed breathlessly and brushed her fingers against his chest. "With your tanned skin and coarse pelt, you look the part of a heathen."

She lay beneath him, a contented smile on her lips, her eyelashes shadowing her cheeks. He kissed her eyelids and tasted the sweet, salty perspiration on her forehead.

His cock hardened by a sudden, savage rush of his blood.

Isabel’s eyes widened. "Did you not just—"

"Indeed, quite vigorously."

Pinned under his weight, she strained her hips against him. "But you still feel quite ready."

"Not still. Again."

She gasped, her plump lips opening.

"If you are a nice peasant girl, this heathen will make you fly many times." He thrust, lodging himself to the hilt inside her sheath. Her breath broke, and she clawed at his biceps.

Henrique laughed and moved, savoring her warmth. Slowly, he retreated. When he returned, he let her feel his weight. The intense, gliding friction was heady, addictive.

"Henrique." Isabel breathed.

He doubled the pressure, filling her to bursting. If he seduced her with ecstasy, she would want to stay tonight, forever.

She quivered beneath him, her eyes heavy-lidded. Henrique drank from her lips, gliding in and retreating, the age-old rhythm of gods and beasts.

Her cries turned sharp, urgent, almost frightened.

"Sweet Isa, another flight, just one more."

"My wings are tired—can’t—"

She could. He knew she could. One more time. Not enough. Forever. He placed his hand between their bodies, feeling the first shudders of pleasure course through her stomach. Her toes curled against his calves, and a keening cry escaped her lips.

He flicked her clitoris, and she ignited. "Hold on to me, Isa. This time, you will soar."

After they shared lunch, he helped her dress in her own clothes. A minor concession for her good behavior. The tiara sparkled atop the dressing table, and Isabel didn’t place it atop her head. He stared at the forgotten diamonds, his eyes trapped in the light like a mesmerized feline. No. He would not consider her motives. It was too soon for her, for them. He felt her reluctance, and it wrenched his heart. Time was passing. If Pedro arrived before he convinced her to stay, then… What? He needed her to admit her feelings for him. With a sense of urgency gnawing at his insides, Henrique took her to his favorite spot, the wild garden patch behind the battlements.

He grabbed her waist and hoisted her atop the ruins of an ancient wall. She dangled her feet until her slippers fell with soft thuds on the grass, and then she leaned back on her elbows, the sun igniting golden streaks in her loose hair.

"You color this pile of rocks." He moved between her legs and caressed her calves.

"It’s the Portuguese sky. Our blue is stronger, darker, and it makes every color spark." Her gaze swept over the castle’s granite walls and the lush land surrounding it. "Your estate is so… ancient and alive, so filled with history."

"Even the tower?"

"Especially the tower." She smiled shyly, then looked at their entwined hands. "Why sell it?"

Henrique shrugged, uncomfortable. "The Italian count made an outrageous offer and—"

She touched his cheek. "The truth."

Henrique stiffened but didn’t dislodge her touch.

"Is it the memories?"

"I can’t blame them. All good. Fishing with my father, chasing my sister around the corn fields, flustering my mother with my escapades. But they are gone now…" He blew air slowly from his mouth and gazed at the tired crenelation. His ancestors had perched there for centuries, fighting to protect king and country. "Generation upon generation of Penafiel blood was spilled for the sake of this pile of rocks. I’ll break the pattern."

He hadn’t brought her here to tell her of his lack of love for his ancestral home—and now it was out, floating between them like a giant boulder about to strike his head. His teeth ground down, and he released her hand, awaiting a reprimand from her patriotic lips.

She placed her palm atop his. "You wanted to fly."

Startled, he glanced up. Her green gaze shone with understanding and warmth. He nodded and pulled her closer for a taste. The kiss was bittersweet as if their bodies knew something they didn’t. Being with her filled him with a devastating joy that bordered on pain. He was suddenly unable to breathe unless she admitted she loved him and had no intention of leaving.

With the sun warming their backs, a soft murmur of water babbling on rocks, he caressed the side of her face and kissed her palm. "If Alcmene had confessed her feelings for Zeus, he would have fought heaven and hell to stay with her."

She glanced away, her expression closing. "Lecherous Zeus? I doubt it."

"Perhaps not… but in matters of the heart, it is sometimes expected the woman to acknowledge her feelings first."

"Is that so?" She shifted, dislodging him, and slid from the wall. Hair flying behind her, she raced toward the castle, her skirts brushing against the tall grass.

Henrique closed the distance between them. "Why are you running from me?"

She increased her speed, her breathing labored. "Really, Henrique, as a temporary lover, you are proving to be a nagging—"

Henrique grabbed her arm, halting her escape. "I don’t want to be a temporary lover, damn it!"

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the green depths were replaced by steely determination. "Do you know what I want? I want friendship. I want respect. I want shared goals and to build a family. I want to set an example. I want to make a difference."

"I want you."

"I need more." She crossed her arms, her gaze sparkling with challenge and a question he had not expected to answer.

"I can do more. For you."

"Words, Henrique. How will I be able to believe in them? When they go against your nature? Do you think I forgot? You told me yourself. Monogamy is not natural." She hurled the words, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

He felt her slipping. The girl who laughed and soared with him was barricading behind her royal demeanor.

"I was wrong." Henrique pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips over hers, closing his eyes against the fierce wave of longing that shook him every time he breathed her scent. Conscious thought, motor coordination, sensory receptors—all shut down, his life energy demanding to fuse every inch of skin in his body with hers. His molecules had existed independently for thirty-two years, but now they required hers to achieve chemical stability.

"What if the mood passes and—"

"I wish this were a mood." He panted against her hair. "Moods are temporary. Moods sweep through a person harmlessly. A mood doesn’t rearrange the structure of a man’s cells. This? Us? Lifetime. Even then, my life will prove too short to live a love so long. I love you, you incredulous, shrewd woman. Curse your royal hide.”

Isabel whirled on him. “This isn’t fair. We agreed. One night, no guilt, no consequences.” Her voice cracked, and she punctuated each word by stabbing her finger into his chest.

Henrique didn’t move, didn’t defend himself. He just stood—a boulder of a man, determined to crush all her defenses. Isabel panted, every breath a struggle. Why did he have to do this? Why change the agreement now? When it would wrench her heart to sneak out of his bed tomorrow?

“You want me here, pliable. You woo me like you do with all your women—"

He touched her cheek. “Woo? I’ve been trying to keep my hands off you, you stubborn princess, since the first second I laid my eyes on you. Half the time, I want to snap your pretty neck. The other half, I want to caress every inch of your skin. But what I can’t do is let go.”

“No, listen to me—"

“Do you think I welcome this feeling? If I could open my chest and extract it from inside, I would—"

“You are a scientist. You find a cure for this sickness.”

“Eros’ arrows have no cure.”

“This is lust. You promised. One night, no guilt, no consequences.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook. “I love you, silly creature. I love you with love, with all the loves inside love, the divine, the human, the beastly, like Adam loved Eve, like Romeo loved Juliet, like Zeus loved Alcmene, like a stallion loves a mare.”

He slanted his mouth over her and kissed her. Isabel didn’t resist. How could she? When her heart sang, when her body rejoiced, when her mind burst under the onslaught of his touch?

Henrique’s love loosened a thread in her chest, unleashing her restraint. She could be happy with him, she realized abruptly. Not the comfortable, proper happiness of duty she had envisioned for herself, but a giddy, exciting, joining of souls kind of happiness.

“Take me to the tower. I need you inside me.”

The way blurred as they raced to the castle. The windy staircase robbed her breath, her composure, and she staggered through the threshold, hand clasped in Henrique’s.

Clothes fell away to decorate the gaudy pillows, and then they were skin to skin. Her hunger for him surpassed anything she had ever experienced, and naked, they tumbled over the mattress. A manic force gripped her, and she bit his chest, shoving her hips against him. He shared her frenzy and entered her forcefully. She gasped at the friction. Shaking, trembling, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled him to her. He surged above her, pounding his hips against her. There wasn’t laughter. Only the guttural cries of pleasure and pain, of flesh meeting flesh in search of oblivion, of harsh, never enough breaths. Promises died in her mouth, but her throat was sore from pleading, crying, begging for him to go faster, harder, deeper.

She would gamble anything to keep him, to be here with him—let morality die and the country explode, and she would not care.

The man she loved. She would leave the man she loved tomorrow. Whimpering, she ground her hips against him, wanting him to meld them like Vulcan fused two pieces of metal. If that failed, she wanted to enter him, sheltered by his sinewy strength, buried so deep she could never leave. If that was lost to her, she wanted him to pulverize her with the force of his mating.

She exploded, gasping for breath, her heart racing out of control. Henrique hummed to her, the tempo of his thrusts slowing until his invasion became a pressure deep inside her. He brushed the hair from her forehead and neck and caressed her bottom lip. His gaze held tenderness and the love he professed, and Isabel closed her eyes.

He rolled them until they faced each other by their sides. He caressed her back with long, soothing brushes of his palms and embraced her. With her head buried in the crook of his neck, she accepted his gentle lovemaking, just as he accepted her frenzied coupling. It was sweet, the friction barely there, his thrusts shallow and deep. Their chests glued together, too close.

Pleasure bloomed, leaving them both panting.

The sun was setting when he withdrew from her and pulled her to his chest, lazily touching her calves with her toes. Then he fell asleep, his leg thrown atop hers.

The ocean brushed against the shore, like rain trapped forever in an hourglass. Tears and perspiration had long cooled on her skin when the cicadas started their song. Sing, my friends. This is your last night.

It was fair of nature that after a cicada experienced life from the heights of flight, she didn’t have to return to her burrow inside the earth.

While he purred in sleep, she twirled a curl of his hair in her fingers and said in a voice choked by emotion, "I love you too."

Forgive me.