“I cannot.”
“Tanon, I swear on the lives of my cattle that if you move like that again, I’m going to rip that gown off your body and do to you what I missed doing last eve.”
Her eyes sprang open. She pushed herself off him, ignoring the pounding in her head. Her hand touched his bare chest. She squeaked and pulled it away.
The instant he was free, Gareth lunged from the bed and strode across the room.
“Oh, my heavens, you’re naked!”
“I always sleep naked,” he told her without turning. He headed for the small banquet table and picked up a bowl of plums and dates. He plucked a plum from its contents and turned to come back to bed.
Tanon’s eyes opened wider, then squeezed shut.
“I’m your husband, Tanon. Open your eyes and eat something.”
Oh, did hehave to remind her that he was her husband? Tanon thought miserably. Did he have to be a sculpted masterpiece of honed muscle from his shoulders to his calves, clothed in nothing but golden armbands and a torc? Did he have to sound so husky and warm? She yanked the sheet from the bed and poked it at him, her eyes still tightly shut. A moment later, she felt the mattress sink a little. She peeked at him through a slit in her lids. Just as she feared, he was sitting beside her, but at least he’d wrapped his torso in the sheet. Tanon kept her gaze on his face, which was actually just as lethal as the rest of him.
Oh, her head pounded, but the sooner she left his bed, the better. She certainly couldn’t please him in her condition. “I’ll leave so you can garb yourself.” She moved to scramble out of bed. A wooden bowl in her face stopped her.
“Eat.”
“Put your clothes on. I cannot—”
“Nay.”
“My.” Her eyes sparked at him. “You speak as primitively as you look.”
“Not primitive enough to leave blood on these sheets.” He fastened an icy blue glance on her. “But I can be pushed.”
Looking down, Tanon brought her hand to the loosened laces of her gown, and then raised her accusing gaze at him.
His eyes dipped to her cleavage. He should feel repentant that he’d tried to take her in her poor condition, but hell…
“You weren’t unwilling.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
He smiled and sank his teeth into a plum.
“Just what is that smirk supposed to mean?” she demanded, fisting her hand on her bent hips.
He looked her over with the kind of hungry appraisal she had seen on some of her father’s knights when an interested wench sauntered by them.
“I’m a lady, in case you’ve forgotten.” She fumbled with her laces, sensing his desire to remove her gown.
“You’re a woman, andyouhaven’t forgotten. It’s no matter though, because the blush of your cheeks against your fired green eyes is so appealing, I’d be content to sit and look at you for the remainder of the day.”
“Did I disappoint you?” she asked, lowering her voice and tightening her fingers on her laces. She hoped she didn’t, but she didn’t remember a thing.
“You drove me wild.”
Her eyes opened wider. “I did?”
“Aye, and you’re doing it again right now.”
She liked the way he looked at her mouth the same way she’d looked at his yesterday. He bent toward her, bringing his lips closer.
Non!She turned her face away from his. She had to remind herself why a half dozen times before she felt strong enough to look at him again. She could fall for Gareth again so easily. And then what? He was marrying her for peace, and nothing more. She’d end up living the life poor Rebecca endured. Blast Roger for losing in the tourney. This would have been so much easier with him.