Page 30 of Anice’s Bargain

“Good night, James.” There was a throatiness to Anice’s voice that sent chills of delight racing over his skin.

He stroked her cheek and drew his finger over her plump bottom lip. “Good night, Anice.” His hand fell away. “Will ye be following me on the morrow?”

A grin pulled at her lovely lips. “If it’s expected, I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Ach, aye, I have many expectations.” He hadn’t meant his statement to be quite so sensual.

“As do I.” The gleam in her eye told him she definitely had meant it that way.

She rose on her toes once more and pressed a kiss to his lips. Her tongue dipped in and swept over his. “Good night.” She drew away from him and pulled open the door, dismissive.

The long, empty hallway held no appeal, especially not when compared with the alternative. Already the pleasant flush of heat to his cheeks and body were beginning to cool. Though he told himself not to, he was already anticipating the following day when he would see her again.

Aye, he would need to mind himself with Anice, to ensure he guarded his heart, so he would not once more be love’s fool.

* * *

Anice closedthe door behind James and gave a little twirl of elation. Her body was hot with thundering lust, her mind alight with a virgin’s imagination. She flung herself on the bed and closed her eyes to plunge into the decadence of her own desire.

She might have shied from his mouth, if she were meek. But she was not meek; she was curious, hungry, eager. For too long, she’d wondered at the intimacy between a man and woman.

Now blind fantasy was becoming tangible reality.

The wine still humming in her veins pushed aside her inhibitions and allowed her to think of Timothy. Her attempts to kiss him had been disastrous, the awkward moments smoothed away by his protests of decorum and maidenly expectation. As though maidens were immune to passion.

While many women would have swooned over a betrothed as chivalrous as Timothy, Anice had been disappointed. She hadn’t wanted the marriage. She could admit that to herself openly now, with her state of intoxication emboldening her thoughts. Chivalry hadn’t been what she wanted. She desired strength, confidence, and assuredness.

She wanted a man who would cradle her face in his large hands and kiss her until she melted. She wanted those powerful hands on her body, igniting every part of her so brightly that the rest of the world dulled. Exactly the way James had done.

Aye, if maidens were immune to passion, she was the exception. She rubbed her thighs together, a slight movement to increase the delicious pulse between her legs. Thoughts of Timothy were shoved aside. She didn’t want to brood over him and fall prey to the stark chill of guilt. Nay, she wanted to relive James’s kiss, his touch, the way he’d grazed her center with confident skill.

She let her fingertips skim over her breasts as his had done. Her nipples tightened beneath the silk of her kirtle. Tingles spread from the pebbled tips through her breasts and down to the place between her legs that he’d touched with such intimacy.

Rubbing her legs together was not enough. She needed more. Like what James had given her. Slowly, she drew the fabric of her skirt upward. Cool air graced her fevered skin.

In her mind, James slipped his hand between her legs. She gently touched her fingertips to her sex and gave a startled gasp of pleasure. Her intimate place was slick with desire.

What she did was sinful. She knew this and was equally aware she ought to stop. Her middle finger grazed the swollen nub of flesh and a bolt of euphoria drew her back to repeat the motion. Her breath caught. She settled her touch over the spot. Rubbing it sent thrilling ripples of delight across her body and left her panting.

She did not want to stop any more than she had wanted James to. Would he have continued to stroke her if he’d been there? Would he do it on their wedding night?

She rubbed harder and her enjoyment intensified. Her nipples prickled with something she didn’t understand. She imagined James’s large fingers moving carefully over her, bringing such wicked delight. The heat of it burned impossibly hot and something inside her exploded. She locked her legs around her hand and let overwhelming pleasure wash over her until she was happily drowning in it.

When finally the euphoria eased its grip on her, a sense of peace washed over her that left all of her feeling buoyant. A languid smile spread over her lips. If such bliss was to be had in one’s marital bed, mayhap being wedded might not be terrible.

The thought stayed with her through a night of passion-fevered dreams of James and into the next morning when the second calling of the banns would be read. James did not sit with her again, but she discovered she was less repulsed at the announcement.

In fact, she thought of him so much through the service, she’d been compelled to say as much in confession with Bernard later. Not only for the distraction through his sermon, but also for the sinful touching of herself the previous night. The priest had suggested prayer for forgiveness and refraining from repeating such behavior. His recommendation had come out in a stammered speech accompanying a face so flushed, it was almost purple.

Even as she vowed to refrain from her intimacies with James, she knew it to be a lie.

She couldn’t wait to be alone with James again.

As fortune would have it, she did not have long to wait. Following supper that eve, James made his way to the castle gardens. She, of course, had no choice but to follow.

She settled on a stone bench at his side beneath a rowan tree. They stared off in the distance where the sun set in an array of gold and pink amid patches of fluffy clouds cast in gilded light. The air was crisp and tinged with his wonderfully masculine scent. Though subtle, it was enough of a reminder of their intimate closeness the prior night that her nerves tingled with lust.

James shifted his attention from the sunset to her. “Forgive me for last night.”