“I can.” He saw a half-empty sack on the floor behind her. “But I will not have to. You will drop it.”
She fought better angry, a good quality in a fighter.
Still, he was better. Much better. He forced her to step back, and back, and back again. Once more, and her heel caught on the sack. She threw her hands up, sending the sword clattering against the wall as she tumbled backward.
The next moment, she was lying back on her elbows, her hair loose about her shoulders, skirts askew, chest heaving.
He could not move, could not even breathe.
She looked like a goddess. A wanton Venus, sprawled on the dirt floor at his feet. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Not a light trill, but a full-throated, joyful laugh that made his heart soar.
What he would not do to hear her laugh again!
“I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” she said, her eyes dancing. She reached her hand up for him to help her to her feet.
He took it and sank to his knees beside her. “Not true, Isobel,” he said in a harsh whisper. “ ’Tis I who am at your mercy.”
His eyes fixed on her lips, full and parted. Well beyond thought now, he gave in to the inexorable pull toward them. The moment their lips touched, fire seared through him.
He tried to hang on to the thin thread of caution tugging at his conscience. But she was kissing him back, mouth open, her tongue seeking his. His ears roared as she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down.
He cushioned the back of her head with his hand before it touched the dirt floor. Leaning over her, he gave himself wholly to kissing her. He splayed his hands into her hair and rained kisses along her jaw and down her throat, then returned to her mouth again.
The sweet taste of her, the smell of her, filled his senses. He was mindless of anything except her mouth, her face, her hair, his burning need to touch her.
He ran his hand down her side to the swell of her hip. When she moaned, he knew he had to feel her beneath him. Beneath him, pressed against him. Skin to skin.
Slowly, he lowered his body until he felt the soft fullness of her breasts against his chest. Sweet heaven! Oh, God, the little sounds she was making. He let himself sink down farther and groaned aloud as his swollen shaft pressed against her hip.
There was a reason he must not do what he wanted to do, but he could not recall it. And did not want to try.
He buried his face in hair that smelled of summer flowers and honey. “Isobel, I want you so much.”
The breath went out of him in a whoosh as he cupped the rounded softness of her breast in his hand. It fit perfectly. And felt so wondrously good he had to squeeze his eyes shut.
He froze the instant he felt the prick of cold steel against his neck. All the reasons they should not be rolling around the floor of an empty storeroom came flooding back to him.
“You are right,” she said so close to his ear that he could feel her breath, “ ’tis wise to carry a short blade.”
“Forgive me.” He breathed in the smell of her skin one more time. Then he made himself get up.
As soon as he set her on her feet, she began to vigorously brush off her clothes. She was quite obviously embarrassed, but did she regret the kisses? He wished she would speak.
“Isobel?” He stepped close and touched her arm, but she would not look at him. “I cannot say I am sorry for kissing you”—kissingseemed hardly to cover it, but he thought it best to leave it at that—“but I do apologize if I have upset you.”
“The blame is not all yours,” she said, face flushed and eyes cast down, “though I might like to pretend otherwise.”
Ah, an honest woman. And a fair one, too.
“You know I am soon to become betrothed.”
“I did forget it for a time,” he said, hoping in vain to draw a smile from her.
“It was very wrong of me,” she said, lifting her chin. “It shall not happen again.”
“If it will never happen again,” he said, “then let me have a last kiss before we part.”
He thought his outrageous request would cause her to either laugh or shout at him. When she did neither, he put his hand against her soft cheek. He leaned down until his lips touched hers. This time, he kept the kiss soft and chaste. He would not upset her again.