The Recruit Read online

  One night.

  His finger traced her cheek and dipped down to behind her ear. “Your veil,” he said huskily. “Can you put it back on by yourself?”

  She nodded. “Why?”

  She had her answer when he started to pull the pins from her hair. A moment later her veil was tossed to the side.

  He drew in his breath.

  Her gaze shot to his, and what she saw there made her turn away, shying from the unexpected pleasure. Her hair had been her one vanity. But it had been hidden for so long, she’d wondered if a man would still find it pretty. If his expression was any indication, the answer was yes.

  She could feel the weight of his scrutiny as his fingers ran through the long waves.

  “It’s a sin to cover something so beautiful.” His voice was almost reverent. After a moment, he cupped her chin, turning her gaze to his. “What else are you hiding, my Mary?”

  She shook her head wordlessly, something in his voice causing her to panic. This was a man who could uncover secrets. Who could dig up emotions buried a long time ago. My Mary … “Nothing,” she managed in a gasp.

  He didn’t believe her. “We shall see.”

  And then he kissed her, turning that gasp of panic into one of pleasure.

  She could taste his intent. He kissed her like a man with a purpose. This wasn’t a kiss meant to seduce but one that was already certain of the end. Bold. Fierce. Carnal. He was taking what he wanted, yet giving her everything in return. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he was never going to let her go.

  Her body responded as if there had never been an interruption. All the passion he’d roused in her returned full force. She slid her hand around his neck, bringing more of his weight down on top of her.

  His erection was pressing against her thigh, but he shifted, nudging it closer to the place she wanted it.

  She must have cried out. He growled in response, his movements quickening, becoming more frenzied. He slid his hand along the curve of her hips and she arched against him like a cat.

  Who was this woman? What had he done to her?

  His kiss slid from her mouth, down her chin and to her throat. “You’re so sweet.” His voice sounded tight, strained.

  She could hear the sounds of her breathing in her ears but was too overcome to care. She couldn’t seem to do anything but writhe in restless anticipation as his mouth burned a trail down her throat and his hands singed an equally hot path over her body. He knew exactly where to touch her. His hands were on her hips, her stomach, the curve at her waist, and then—finally then—her breast.

  He cupped her, squeezed, molded her into his hand, and she moaned at the absolute wonder of it.

  His mouth had descended as far down her bodice as the modest gown would allow him to go. “God, I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “I want you naked.” A memory of his bare chest flashed before her eyes. She shuddered at the thought of all that hot, tanned skin against her. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I want to see these pretty nipples before I take them in my mouth.”

  He placed his mouth right on the spot he was talking about. She gasped, feeling the damp heat right through the silk and linen.

  She arched into his mouth, and she heard him swear again as he sucked. Sucked hard. Sucked so she could feel the sweet tightness around her nipple and shimmery needles of pleasure shot to her toes. She started to moan, soft, urgent sounds that she’d never made before.

  He made a harsh sound and pulled away. “God, you’re killing me,” he said, before returning his mouth to hers for a fierce kiss.

  He was moving faster now, with none of the smooth finesse he’d exhibited before. His movements were harsh and stiff, almost clumsy. He was showing none of the detached control she’d witnessed in the barn. Could she really be doing this to him?

  He loosened his tunic, fumbled with the ties of his breeches and braies, and worked the edge of her gown up over her hips.

  Breaking the kiss, he leaned over her. A slump of dark hair hung forward across his brow, and she fought the urge to tuck it back. His eyes were dark and burning with the same emotion she’d seen in them when he’d taken himself to release with his hand: lust.

  For me.

  “I need to be inside you.”

  His hand dipped between her legs, and she gasped. The gentle brush of his finger against the sensitive, quivering flesh sent a thousand shivers racing up her spine.

  “You’re so hot,” he groaned.

  Whatever embarrassment she might have felt at his words was erased when his finger slipped inside her. She jolted at the exquisite stroke.

  “I knew you’d be like this.” He groaned again. “You’re made for this, little one.”

  She didn’t know what he was talking about, but the finger stroking inside her felt too good for her to care. Something strange was happening. The needs of her body had taken over. The quivering intensified to a pulse, and then to an insistent throbbing. She felt as if she were climbing, reaching for something she couldn’t see.

  “That’s it,” he said encouragingly. “Let it come, love. Let it come.”

  The soft endearment broke through the haze of her pleasure, but she pushed it away. It doesn’t mean anything.

  But she hadn’t expected this bold, wicked warrior to be so … tender.

  His finger was plunging in and out. Her hips rose on their own to meet the heel of his hand. He pressed against her, murmuring words in her ear. “That’s it, love. Fly.”

  Looking into his eyes, she froze, startled by the intensity of sensation that gripped her. Their eyes held for one long heartbeat before they closed as the sensation exploded inside her in a hot, pulsing spasm. She was flying. Soaring in a dreamy world of sensation. The pleasure was indescribable. So much more than she’d imagined. But she couldn’t hold on to it. All too soon it was fading away.

  She opened her eyes, seeing him leaning over her. His gaze was hot with an emotion she couldn’t read.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said fiercely.

  She smothered the flare of feminine pleasure. It didn’t mean anything. He probably said that to all the women.

  Except she couldn’t recall him saying it to the woman in the barn.

  He moved over her, leveraging his chest over hers. She fought the urge to glance down, filled with very unmaidenly curiosity.

  She sucked in her breath, feeling the blunt tip of his manhood probing her entrance.

  She steeled herself for the pain.

  “Relax,” he said. “I told you I’d be gentle.”

  She blushed. How could that be gentle? Long sword indeed. A steel long sword!

  But after a moment she believed him. He rubbed the tip of himself against her until she started to relax.

  The quivering started again. Her breath began to quicken. She watched his face in the semidarkness. The aggressive masculine jaw clenched and determined, the sensual mouth tight, the sharp blue eyes piercing, the strain that tensed his muscles.

  It was killing him to go slow. But he was doing it for her.

  The gentleness confused her. It wasn’t what she expected from him. It wasn’t what she wanted from him. “Now,” she told him.

  If he was surprised by her demand, his body was too eager to argue with her. Slowly, he started to push inside, using the dampness of her body to ease his way.

  Her eyes widened as her body stretched to accommodate him.

  She thought it would hurt. It should hurt. But instead she realized it felt … amazing. He filled her in a way she’d never been filled before. Every incredible inch was a possession. A claiming. A fist of heat pulsing inside her.

  Oh God, yes. This was it! This was what she’d been waiting for. Mary couldn’t wait to feel him move, to feel him thrusting inside her. All that lust. All that raw passion she’d witnessed in the barn.

  Except he wasn’t doing that at all. He was holding perfectly still—achingly still—staring at her with a look on his f