Twelfth Night Betrothal

Chapter 5

It was indeed a feast, a veritable banquet.

“My!” Heather breathed. The cold had made her cheeks a delicious rosy color. With her face framed by the soft gray fur of the cloak hood, she had never looked more beautiful. “Will really put his heart into this. He’s packed all the things I like.”

“I’ve always been told it was good to have friends in high places,” Flynn commented, unearthing what looked like a bottle of spiced mead out of the basket. “I can see now that it’s true. Poor Alistair is as we speak playing hide-and-seek with his sweetheart.”

Heather laughed and accepted the pewter cup he handed her. While she drank, he bit into what looked like a piece of solidified honey and groaned in pleasure. “This is delicious. Do you know what it is?”

“Of course.” She frowned. “Have you never had candied ginger before?”

Damn. Flynn averted his gaze, feeling like a prized fool. How could he explain he had never even tasted what was a favorite of hers without revealing his past? “No.”

Should he tell her the truth? What would she make of the fact that he was a bastard and had been a servant up until very recently? Dare he compromise what they had by discussing his childhood? He decided against it. The moment was so perfect, he didn’t want anything to spoil it.

“Let me get you something to eat.” He reached out to a flaky pastry and brought it to her lips. “Open for me.”

The words sounded impossibly lewd and his groin responded accordingly. It stirred. Then she did as he’d bade her, parted her lips and bit into the cake, her gaze never leaving his. In the blink of an eye, he went fully hard.

This wouldn’t do. From now on she would have to feed herself, and he would not watch while she licked crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

But despite his best intentions, when they finished the meal his lower body was still pulsing. He shot up to his feet. It was either that or roll her under him and submit her to his desire.

“Shall we take a walk?”

Though she did not really want to, Heather knew they had better leave the fur nest. She was in serious danger of doing what Will had suggested—throwing herself in Flynn’s arms. Eating with him had tested to the limit her resolve to behave sensibly.

“Yes.”

She accepted the hand he was holding out to her. He pulled her with more force than she had expected, and this when she had already started to get up. They collided and lost their balance. For a while it looked as if they would actually manage to right themselves, but with her feet on the soft furs, Heather was not as stable as she would have liked.

They went down in a tangle of limbs.

Flynn managed to twist his body so that he was the one ending up with his back on the ground, rather than her. He cushioned her fall most efficiently, and she found herself on top of him, slightly breathless. They stared at each other a long moment. They were so close she saw there were brown specks in his green eyes. That had to be why they appeared dark sometimes. A man of many facets… She realized she still didn’t know anything about him—but in this moment it did not matter.

He was a man, a man she desired. Desire. Yes. That must be what she was feeling. It was as if someone had poured hot, spiced wine straight into her veins.

Flynn cleared his throat and tightened his hold around her.

“If you want a kiss, you will have to be the one initiating it. I’m trapped under you, and even if I wasn’t, I could not presume to take such liberty,” he said, his voice impossibly low, impossibly seductive.

“I have never kissed anyone,” she said in a breath. “I always wanted to, though.”

He arched a brow. Either he was surprised at the boldness of the statement or he did not believe her. “Have you really never kissed anyone?”

“No.”

That was not a lie, as she saw it. She had never taken the initiative and offered herself to a man was what she meant. George had on occasion placed his lips on hers, but she would not call what he had done a kiss. It had felt more like a punishment. Certainly it had not fitted the image she had in her mind when she pictured a man kissing her.

Mercifully, Flynn did not ask for further explanations.

“You could make your dream come true, right here, right now. No one can see us. You are my sweetheart. You could kiss me.”

You could do more. I would be willing. More than willing.

He didn’t say the words out loud, but she saw them in his eyes.

She leaned in, stopping with her lips just an inch away from his. Could she do this? “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

“You need not fear me,” Flynn said instantly. “Even if you do kiss me, I will not see it as permission to take more.”

“No, I know. That’s not what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of being disappointed. I’ve imagined this for so long I fear it will not—”

“I promise to do my best not to disappoint you.” This was said with such a roguish smile that she instantly knew she wouldn’t be.

She lowered her mouth a fraction more. Stopped. “I don’t know how to do this.” She thought it fair to warn him. He might well be disappointed.

“I’m sure you’ll understand what to do,” he assured her. “It’s easy enough.”

“If I—”

“Heather. Please kiss me. Now. Or I might well roll you under me and kiss you .”

The moment their mouths touched all her doubts vanished. Everything vanished but him, his heat, his smell, his strength. He was gentle, allowing her to explore at her leisure, but assertive enough to make her feel wanted. His tongue probed, his lips caressed, his teeth nipped. It was delicious. Forget candied ginger, Flynn’s lips might well be the best thing she had ever tasted.

With a sigh she drew back. He tilted his head. The same roguish smile as before was playing on his lips.

“I hope you weren’t too disappointed. How is it to kiss a man?”

“It’s…very nice.” The choice of words made her wince. Nice? Had she just said it was nice ? Dear God, her mind must truly have been addled by the best moment of her life. It hadn’t been nice, it had been breathtaking. “You taste of spice,” she added to hide her embarrassment.

He chuckled. “That will be the wine.”

“You didn’t drink any wine.”

“No, you’re right. I forgot.” He trailed a finger over her bottom lip. “And you taste of honey.”

“That will be the pastry I ate.”

“The pastry was almond and cinnamon,” Flynn reminded her before chuckling again.

“So it was.”

“I guess we have established that you taste of honey and I taste of spice. Quite a delicious combination, I would say. Now…would you like me to kiss you ?”

Heather’s heart skipped a beat. How was she going to survive this? Should she accept?

Flynn saw her hesitation. “Heather. Look at me. If you don’t want me to, I won’t touch you.”

“No, please, I do want it. Kiss me like I should have been kissed.”

Not as if you hate me.

With a supple jerk of the hips Flynn flipped Heather over until she was lying under him, where he had wanted her all along. “So you had never kissed anyone before. Have you at least been told how beautiful you are?”

“B-beautiful?”

Her stunned reaction was an answer in itself. She had not. Anger swelled inside Flynn. What sort of men had she met that she had never been kissed or even told how beautiful she was? Were they all ninnies?

“Yes, you are beautiful.” He stroked her cheek gently. “And I thank you for allowing me to be the first man to show you what a real kiss feels like.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he had placed his lips over hers. Never before had he been so determined to ensure the woman under him enjoyed his kiss. Though it would not lead anywhere, he meant to ensure she remembered this kiss all her life.

The first—and best.

He used his mouth to make love to her mouth, he used his tongue to worship hers, his lips to show her just how perfect it was to kiss someone you desired, how good she felt in his arms. She arched her back in invitation, closed her arms around his chest and moaned into his mouth, the sound almost putting paid to his resolve to behave honorably. His hardness found the place between her legs and he pressed hard, barely resisting the urge to rub.

Lord. He was going to burst.

Heather gave a little squeak when he reached for the hem of her skirts. He instantly drew back, knowing he had gone too far. Or… Suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Her eyes were wild with desire, and she had spread her legs wider to accommodate him. Still, he knew she would only regret it afterward if she allowed him to take her here. She had just admitted to having never kissed a man, which most likely meant she was a virgin. But even if she wasn’t, he didn’t want to give her the impression he was only after one thing.

In any case, he was not free to give in to his desire. He was supposed to marry another woman in less than a month, and then where would that leave her? He could not be so dishonorable, so selfish. If he ever bedded a virgin, it would be on the understanding that he would repair the wrong he had caused her by marrying her afterward.

And he could not do that, not when he was betrothed to another. So there was only one choice.

Putting an end to this madness before it was too late.

“I think we should head back,” he said through gritted teeth. Never had words cost him more, but he just could not ruin her.

“Yes…I suppose we had better.” She sounded just as strained as he was.

Damnation! Why did the best moment of his life have to end like this?

The journey back to Redding Castle was accomplished in silence. Thank the Lord he had not taken advantage of her. Heather looked mortified enough to have kissed him. What would she be if he had actually tumbled her on the furs? Once the haze of desire had dissipated, she would have hated him—and herself—for allowing him to take her innocence in such a cavalier fashion, outside in the open. Before the end of the day he would have to ask for her forgiveness for the liberty he had taken.

But as luck would have it, when they reached the shore, the Countess of Redding and a group of friends were there, making the most of the last rays of sunshine.

“Ah. There you are, my lady, just in time to join us. We were making our way back to the castle and its welcome hearth.”

Pleasant tone notwithstanding, this was an order, not an invitation.

“Of course,” Heather murmured.

She left without a backward glance.

Still vibrating with frustrated desire and annoyance at his stupidity, Flynn stormed back to the great hall, where he found Alistair in the company of his sweetheart. He would have avoided them, but a glare from his friend warned him he had better join them and try to alleviate some of the pressure the woman was putting on him…or face retribution later.

Steeling himself, he walked over to them.

“Dear God. Remind me why I brought you here?” Alistair grunted when they were finally rescued by a friend of the lady who insisted on introducing her to her own beloved. “Typical that you ended up with one of the swans while I’m stuck with a clucking pigeon. I swear, the woman is as dull as a fussing hen and, considering conversation is the only thing I will ever want from her, I am likely to pull out my hair before the week is over.”

Flynn was not in the mood to endure his friend’s complaining. His body was still taut with need, his mind full of his encounter with Heather. “I never forced you to drag me to the earl’s gathering,” he reminded him impatiently.

“Come, you knew at some point you would have to show your face in society. I thought it would be a harmless beginning.”

Harmless. Flynn emptied his cup of ale in one gulp. With the best of intentions, his damned friend had thrown his life into disarray.