“But you’re scowling.” Her voice went a little soft as their gazes met again.
“That’s because I’ve gone daft, and it worries me.”
“It does?” she asked, acutely aware of his touch and the way the seductive lowness of his voice covered her.
“Aye,” he nodded giving her a smile so drenched in warmth she couldn’t help but let it ignite her. “I find myself thinking about kissing you all the time.”
“I admit,” she told him with a flush of pink dusting her cheeks, “I’ve thought about kissing you as well.”
He raised a surprised brow at her. “Have you?” When she nodded shyly, the slant of his sexy grin heated his eyes. He leaned forward, dropping the cloth from his fingers, and slipped his hand beneath her hair. “Come here,” he whispered, using little of his strength to bring her mouth closer to his and the skill of an experienced lover to tilt her head to just the right angle to receive him fully.
His lips touched hers like a caress, stilling her breath. He didn’t ravish her with the hunger that tightened his loins, but with excruciating leisure and infinite control, he teased and tasted and nibbled her mouth. The tip of his tongue glided along the seam of her lips, dragging a languid sigh from the back of her throat.
The sound hardened Gareth’s muscles. He shifted his body and engulfed her within the sleek steel of his embrace. With her mouth fully surrendered, he slid his tongue between the delicate barricade of her lips and entered her mouth with a rasping moan of his own.
Tanon went weak in his arms while his tongue flicked over hers in a dance set to the rhythm of their hearts, making them both ache for something more. He flooded her senses with the wild scent of desire, the taste of danger and excitement. He felt her heart beating hard against his chest.
He tangled his hand in her curls, drawing her head back. Breaking their kiss, he grazed his lips over her chin and down the elegant column of her neck. When he pulled away, his breath came hard between his parted lips. His dusky gaze smoldered with dark intentions that made Tanon’s pulse race.
“Don’t fear me.” His command was spoken with such alluring thickness, Tanon thought obeying it would be impossible.
He curled his finger around one of the laces tying the heavy bodice of her gown and gave it a gentle tug. Her gown loosened. He smoothed the shift underneath over her shoulders with his palms, exposing only her modest cleavage. His eyes soaked her in as if she stood naked before him.
Tanon inhaled sharply, not from fear, but from the decadently wicked sensation of being desired. She felt stunned and shameful for delighting in such a depraved pleasure. But when she looked into his fevered gaze, discovering that his breath halted along with hers, she stopped thinking altogether. When he swept his fingertips over her flesh, tracing the milky soft mound of her breast, Tanon closed her eyes and arched her back.
Dipping his head, Gareth kissed her where his fingers had just been. He heard her husky moan before she fell back on the bed.
He lifted his head from her bosom. “Tanon?” When she didn’t answer right away, he shook her softly. “Tanon. Hell, wake up.” She didn’t move. His eyes flicked to the bowl of water across the room, and for an instant he considered pouring it over her head. “Damnation!” He pushed off the bed and stared down at her unresponsive form. Now this was something he wasn’t accustomed to. No woman had ever fallen asleep on him before…andwhilehe was kissing her!
He let his gaze drift over her body. Oh, what he wanted to do to her. But there was naught he could do now. He wasn’t about to make love to an unconscious woman. Even if it was his wedding night. He didn’t dare undress her, although her gown looked ridiculously cumbersome. Why did Normans feel the need to cover everything up with heavy fabrics as if it were the dead of winter?
Tearing himself away from the bed, he crossed the room and fell in a chair beside the hearth. He watched her. He had to have been daft to agree to take a wife. What he needed was peace in his life, not vexation. If he had an ounce of wit, he would have refused his exiled brother’s promised bride and returned to Dafydd’s fortress to finish what he should have done a year ago—cleave the bastard in half, then find out who among his men had betrayed him to the northern prince. He drew his hand through his hair sweeping silky strands away from his face. Instead, here he sat, gaze fastened to his drunken wife. He thought about returning to the feast in the great hall, but Madoc and his men would never let him forget that he’d spent his wedding night with them, rather than his beautiful bride.
She was breathtaking, he thought, tapping his fingers along the armrest of his chair. He found his heartbeat slowing when he recalled the guileless dip of her brow, the lush fan of her lashes against the cream of her skin when she told him that she didn’t know what to do…later. That was most likely why she drank. She was probably scared to death of the marriage bed. But hell, she hadn’t reacted to his touch with fear. He shifted in his seat as an uncomfortable thickness gripped his loins. The taste of her skin still lingered on his lips. His innocent had grown into a woman. Tonight she was open and honest, as if she knew no other way to be. He smiled. Tanon hadn’t changed all that much.
“God help me,” he mumbled and raked his hand over his jaw. “I’m going as soft on her as I was when I was ten!” With nothing but a smile she had persuaded him to allow her nursemaid to come home with them. A few tears and he’d promised to find a way for her to visit her family. How was he going to accomplish that feat? Forget thehow. Whywould he want to return here? He’d come for what his people needed. He intended on never stepping foot in England again. He had more important matters to attend to, like visiting his uncle and seeing to his people after more than a year of his absence.
He kicked off his boots, stood up, and strode to the bed, tearing away at his clothes. He had planned this out carefully. He would strip her of her fear, her innocence… Nowhere in that plan did he intend to lose his heart to her again and turn into a pansy.
Peace, he reminded himself of his cause. He was doing this for peace. He climbed into bed and folded his hands beneath his head, staying clear of her. Tonight, he’d let her sleep. He didn’t want to frighten her further by pawing at her. Tomorrow night though, he’d have her, or he’d have Madoc thrash his good sense back into him.
*
Gareth opened hiseyes the following morning and spat Tanon’s hair out of his mouth. It took him an instant to realize the weight on his chest was his wife’s. She was asleep sprawled across him and snoring as if he were as soft as a pillow. He tried to move his arm, but it was numb. She must have been atop him all night. The thought stirred him to a full state of wakefulness beneath his sheet. He flexed his fingers to circulate his blood, then wound his wrist a few times.
“Tanon.” He tried to push her off, but she groaned, and his control nearly snapped. He moved his palm over her tempting rump and ground his teeth together. He’d been patient, but how could a man be expected to control himself engulfed in the warmth of his wife’s body?
“Tanon, wake up.”
She shifted and he closed his eyes fighting the urge to sweep her onto her back and kiss her senseless.
“Oh,” she moaned in agony and clutched her head. “It feels like a horse fell on my head.”
Beneath her, Gareth cursed whiskey to Hades. “You deserve your discomfort for drinking whiskey.” There, he wasn’t as soft as her pillow, and now she knew it.
“Gareth, please lower your voice.”
“Move away from me.”