“Henry Tudor.”

“The king?”

His hands gently rubbed her arms, sending little ripples of sensation down her body. Her skin became more sensitive, eagerly anticipating where his lips would touch next. Erotic anticipation began to burn along her neck at the sight of the bed.

“A gift given in honor of our wedding. Henry had it made by the very same family that made his own.” His lips closed around her earlobe, drawing a stiff breath from her.

“Look at it, Bridget. I have imagined you in it from the moment I laid eyes upon it. Swear that our marriage is true and binding in your thoughts, and we shall leave the past behind us.”

She suddenly understood how Eve must have felt. She was tempted, her resolve so weakened by his voice. It was rich with the promise of the lover she had known last night.

“Henry will not allow the chancellor to interfere in our union, Bridget, you must trust me on that.”

She pulled herself away from him, stumbling because of how fast she moved to avoid being held captive. Frustration showed in Curan’s eyes, but it was edged with determination, and he was not alone in that desire.

“I will not be the cause of your downfall. We must think of any children we might have.”

His eyes darkened. “There will be children. Be very sure that I will not allow you to sleep anywhere except by my side.” His lips curved up. “And there will be no chemise worn in my bed, I promise you that, Bridget.”

She believed him. Her cheeks colored, heating with a blush that told him how much she liked his declaration. He reached out and laid the back of his hand along the side of her face. It was such a simple touch, but she shivered in response.

“Swear to me, Bridget. I have no liking for this fight between us.”

“If I give you that promise, I condemn you to whatever wrath the chancellor wishes to strike out with.”

His eyes narrowed, and his hand fell away from her face. He hooked his fingers through his wide sword belt, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“So be it.” His voice was gruff with distaste. “You shall remain in this chamber unless you have my permission to leave it.”

Bridget stiffened, but he was not finished.

“Without your dress.”

“What?”

He offered her no mercy, only a hard expression. “I doubt that you will find it simple to slip across the yard without a dress, so you will disrobe and hand me your clothing. It will be stored elsewhere until you swear to me or I get a letter from your father ending this debate.”

“That is barbaric.”

“I consider it kinder than chaining you to the wall. Yet I would far rather have your word. The road is full of danger, Bridget; I will not have you risking yourself in some attempt to shelter me.”

“Because I am a woman?”

“Because you are my wife.”

She walked away from the bed, unable to quell her own longing for it. The man was unable to see reason when it was spoken plainly to him. She felt his eyes on her and turned to stare straight back at him. She watched a flicker of approval light his eyes, but it did nothing to soften his expression.

“Disrobe, Bridget. Do not make me handle you unkindly.”

“I make you do nothing, my lord.”

But she also recalled her first lesson from Marie, and the man had ordered her to disrobe …


Chapter Twelve




Raising her chin, Bridget stared into Curan’s eyes.

“I suppose there is little point in testing my strength against yours.”

Surprise flickered across his eyes, but suspicion remained. Lifting one hand, Bridget reminded herself to move slowly. Her heart began beating faster, and her senses became keener. She heard a pop when she undid the hook that held her over-partlet closed. Thrusting a finger into the opening, she traced her own collarbone while drawing the wool garment aside to reveal her skin.

“Is this what you wanted, my lord?”

She drew the over-partlet off her shoulders completely and walked toward another table that was near the fireplace built into the wall near a huge set of windows.

“I would prefer your promise and the removal of your gown.”

She offered him a raised eyebrow.

“You sound greedy. If I gave you my word, I would expect to keep my dress.” She forced her words to pass her lips slowly. Curan seemed willing to wait for each one as well. His eyes followed her every motion, no matter how small. She gently unbuttoned one cuff and then separated the fabric before shifting her attention to the matching one.

“I believe you shall have to choose. My word …” She trailed her finger along the newly exposed skin of her wrist. “Or my dress …”

He swallowed roughly.

The little response made her confidence swell. Heat began licking along her skin as she moved her hands to the hooks that held her bodice closed. The first gave way with a pop, and the next one, too.

“It’s rather chilly …”

She turned her back but peeked over her shoulder at Curan. His lips were pressed into a hard line, but another little pop told him that a third hook had been released.

“The fire feels quite nice against my skin.”

“You are toying with me.”

Another pop, and the shoulders of her dress began to sag down her shoulders.

“Such a critical thing to say, especially considering my very perfect compliance with your demand, my lord.”

She rolled the title and turned to display her half-open dress. Her corset was in plain sight, and his attention settled on the top of it, where her exposed breasts swelled up. Her fingers released the last two hooks, and she turned back to face the fire before allowing the dress to begin falling down her body. The garment caught on her hips, and she smoothed her hands down the length of her stays until she reached it.

“That courtesan taught you her tricks.”

The dress slumped to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Turning back around, she toyed with the end of the lace that held her corset tightly closed.

“Is there something wrong with my actions? You did tell me to disrobe. Am I doing a poor job of it? Shall I try again?” She bent her knees and lowered her body so that she could grasp the pooled dress.

“Leave it.” He blew out a stiff breath in response.

She straightened and pulled on the tie holding her corset closed. The cord gave way, and the weight of her breasts tugged the lace through the eyelets.

“You need not become cross, my lord. I am simply attempting to make certain that I understand your will.”

“I find myself very pleased with your compliance, Bridget.”

His fingers tightened on his belt but only for a moment. He grasped the end of the belt and tugged it so that the metal tongue that secured it loosened. With a practiced hand, he caught the entire belt and sword, lifting it up to place it on the table that was near the door. He reached up and unbuttoned the first few buttons that held his simple doublet closed. The sight of his shirt drew a memory of the previous night vividly to her mind. She cast her attention down as it planted ideas in her mind of how much she might enjoy being stripped again while he was with her.

He uttered her name in a husky tone that renewed her blush. His lips began to curve. “Dare I hope to be more pleased by your actions?”

She turned her back upon him instead. The lace holding her stays took only a few quick motions to pull loose. The garment instantly fell away from her body. A little sigh of relief rose from her throat as her chemise was allowed to float gently around her natural shape.

A pair of hands cupped her breasts in the next moment. Curan curled around her, leaning over her while his hands began massaging her breasts. Excitement twisted her belly, flooding her with hungry need.

“Perhaps a better question might be, may I hope to please you, sweet Bridget?”

Rapture flowed from his hands into her, the tender globes of her breasts rejoicing in their freedom and the soothing motions of his hands. He chuckled when she did nothing more than lean back to allow him to continue. Her body rejected any course of action that involved interrupting the delightful motion of his hands.

“I should have paid that courtesan, for she did me a favor in agreeing to instruct you.”

He pressed a kiss against her neck and then released her. A whimper rose from her throat as she turned to see where he was. The expression on his face was fascinating to her. There had not been enough light last night to see him clearly. Now, the candles spread their yellow glow over him, giving her an unobstructed view of the hunger dancing in his eyes.

“For she taught you confidence, and that is something that should never be mistaken for a challenge to my authority. Too many fathers demand timidity from their daughters.”

“I never expected a man to understand that.”

“There are many things that you and I still have to learn about one another.” His eyes traveled down her length, pausing on the junction of her thighs. “I have a few ideas on where to begin our study.”

She was tempted to bend beneath the demand that was flickering in his eyes. Her fingers worried the fabric of her chemise, and feeling the fabric between her fingers offered her a path to regaining dominance.

Grasping the fabric, she drew it up her body, baring her knees and thighs, and farther up until the fabric slipped over her head.

“Perfectly done.” His lips pressed into that hard line once again. “Perhaps too well done.”

She lifted one shoulder. “What was that you just said about not caring for timidity?”

He scoffed at her, but amusement danced in his dark eyes.

“Touché, my sweet.”

His hands moved to his britches. He made much faster work of opening the front of the garment, but she was no less captivated. It was a truth that she found his body pleasing to behold. His gaze remained on her the entire time, however, those dark eyes judging her response and possibly her nerve. His pants ended up being thrown away from him with no regard to where they landed.

The heat from the fire bathed her bare skin in warmth, but there was fire flickering in her belly. Knowing what his cock felt like deep inside her seemed to have removed all hesitation from her flesh. Passion sprang to life instantly and without any quibbling from her thoughts. Her nipples drew into hard points, and his gaze dropped down her body to linger on the two jewels. His face became a mask of hunger, and he pulled his shirt up and off with a motion that produced a soft tearing sound.

She did not get the chance to look at him. Curan closed the distance between them too quickly, his hands cupping her face before he claimed her mouth with a hard kiss. His lips demanded a response, and she did not deny him, could not deny him, for she was starving for his touch. Her mouth opened when his tongue teased her lower lip. The organ thrust deep into her mouth, tangling with her own in a dance that sent anticipation through her passage. Her hand reached for him, stroking over his hip and across his lean belly until she found his erect cock. Her fingers curled around the pole, delighting in the smooth skin.

He lifted his head but stood still while her hand stroked his length.

“You are more content in this marriage than you believe, Bridget.”

He released her face and scooped her up in his arms. She gasped at the ease with which he took her complete weight. There was no hint of strain on his face, only a very clear look of victory.

“Passion for the flesh is not something to offer praise for.”

“I disagree.”

He walked to the bed and laid her in the center of it. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

“Passion is something that is too often faked by courtesans, and much too often lacking in noble marriage beds.” He cupped one breast as his body stretched out beside hers. “And I intend to show you just how much hotter it may become.”

He leaned down to capture one puckered nipple between his lips. His fingers curled around the soft mound of her breast, raising the nipple up in offering. His mouth eagerly feasted upon the delicate tip, sucking it deeper into his mouth. She had never dreamed that a man’s mouth might be so hot. She twisted and arched while pleasure flowed down her body. His free hand smoothed over her chest and down across her belly until he touched the soft curls that crowned her mons.

“I believe it is time to show you how much I enjoyed your sweet lips around my cock last night.”

His words didn’t make sense, and her mind wasn’t very interested in focusing in order to understand. Bridget was much more interested in his hand resting so softly just above her slit. Hidden between the folds of her sex, her clitoris begged for attention.