Knight In My Bed by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Page B

pure, exquisite ecstasy slipped over her face.
    Lust, raw and untamed, surged through Donall. More aroused than a beardless squire about to spill his seed in the throes of first rut, he watched her salacious performance, his gaze riveted on her hands, the length of silk, and the lush vee winking at him from betwixt her shapely thighs.
    As if she knew he hovered on the very edge of his need and meant to bedevil him, she ceased her saucy antics and slid the makeshift rope from between her legs. Meeting his eyes, she laughed, a light, tinkling sound, and unfurled the silk.
    She held its length before her, letting it hang between them like a banner, its rippling transparency clinging to the pert tips of her breasts and accentuating the dark, triangular shadow of her femininity.
    Longing, fierce and uninhibited, swept through Donall. A swift and furious maelstrom, forceful as the racing white waters of a Highland burn after a cloudburst, his desire swelled and crested, out of control and unrestrained.
    Wild.
    Then she laughed again. A deeper, throatier laugh. Discordant and troublesome ... almost a growl.
    Donall stiffened, his senses alert with a nameless foreboding. A peculiar something skipping down his spine, strangely at odds with the other, more primal urges she' d awakened in him.
    Using a wanton's coy tricks, she cast his fickle prick-lings of doubt to the four winds by wetting her sweet lips and dipping the edge of the banner to afford him one lightning-quick glimpse of her hardened nipples.
    Captivated, Donall reached for her, but she danced backward, maneuvering herself just out-with his grasp. Another mischievous tinkle of laughter escaped her and she snapped the silk, whipping it once more into a taut rope. Still chuckling, she whirled away to slip behind him, the rapid fluidity of her movement leaving a trace of her wildflower scent hanging in the air.
    Fully besotted, intoxicated with need, and driven to savor even the faintest whisper of her sweet perfume, Donall drank in the smell of her.
    Smell?
    Again, a flurry of ill ease stirred inside him, but before the sensation could leap to life, she began sliding her hands up and down his arms, deftly massaging his aching muscles and caressing his hands, milking his fingers with a proficiency he' d never before enjoyed.
    Not even from the most talented stew-house harlots.
    Would that she'd milk his tarse thus.
    Giving free rein to the bliss of her touch, Donall drew in another deep breath of the heady scents surrounding him.
    Bewitching him.
    Her light wildflower fragrance, the tangy musk of her own arousal, and the reek of that noxious potion she'd poured down her throat.
    Only, of a sudden, the odious tonic smelled more stale than sharp. Seemed somehow ... different. As did her hands. No longer soft, smooth, and gentle, the hands holding his in place behind his back were callused, rough, and large.
    Too large to be a woman's. And the coarse rope some heavy-handed varlet wound ever tighter around his wrists was anything but silken. A vicious kick in his shin ripped away the shroud of deep slumber.
    "Blood of Christ!" Donall roared, now fully awake, the last vestiges of his dream spinning away in a red cloud of throbbing pain.
    "I bid you a good morn." The giant stood before him and Donall knew at once the source of the stale smell he' d noted while yet asleep.
    'Twas the dullard's breath.
    Donall glared at him, a new kind of desire pulsing thick and hot through his veins. The irresistible urge to give the smirking whoreson a fine taste of his blade's steel. Saints, but his fingers itched to curl 'round the hilt of his broadsword!
    Instead, he swore.
    A volley of dark oaths menacing enough to send the devil's most debased miscreations scuttling for cover.
    "Speak thusly in our lady's presence and I’ll cut out your tongue for offending her gentle ears." The oversized oaf matched Donall's glare.
    "Speak thus to me again, and 'tis I who shall do the carving," Donall shot