A Stranger at Castonbury(7)

‘Jamie,’ she panted. Her eyes closed tightly as she concentrated on every touch. Suddenly she felt his tongue touch her there. ‘Jamie, no!’

‘Shh, let me,’ he whispered, and she gave herself over to what he did to her, what he made her feel. He tasted her so deeply she could have no secrets from him. Waves of burning pleasure washed over her and she fell down into them. She drove her fingers into his hair and held him to her—she wanted more and more, she wanted all of him.

Her climax took hold of her, low at her very core, a building, burning pressure. She let it expand over her whole body until every coherent thought vanished and there was only feeling. Only him. As he thrust his tongue deep within her one more time she exploded.

‘Jamie,’ she breathed as she sank down to the bed, her legs spread as he knelt between them. He stared down at her, his grey eyes so dark they seemed almost black, his chest heaving with the force of his breath.

Catalina reached out to unfasten his breeches and push them away from his hips. He was hard with his own unfulfilled desire, velvet over hot iron, beckoning for her touch and she gave in to the temptation. She ran her hand slowly up his length and down again and he trembled at her caress. His erection strained against her hand, yet he held very, very still.

‘Catalina,’ he whispered harshly.

She sat up and pushed him down in her place so she could strip away his breeches and see the beauty of his naked body at last. The light from the fires through the canvas walls of the tent turned his skin to gold, and she touched every inch of him, wondering that he could be her husband.

‘Catalina, I can’t bear this much longer,’ he said as he reached up to caress her hair. She bent her head to kiss his shoulder, to bite lightly at his flat brown nipple. Suddenly he seized her by the hips and rolled her down to the bed as he rose up above her. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, kissing her skin as she wrapped her arms around him and laughed out of sheer happiness.

‘Do you want me, Catalina?’ he whispered. ‘Do you want me inside you?’

‘Yes,’ she cried. She opened herself to him and he slid deeply into her, home at last. She wrapped her legs around him and closed her eyes as she felt him with her.

He drew back only to drive forward again and again, a delicious friction rough and hot inside of her. She listened to the harsh, uneven rhythm of his breath as they moved together, seeking their pleasure. He was part of her now, but she wanted everything he could give—and she wanted to give him everything in return.

Faster and faster they moved, their cries mingling. She rose up and caught his lips with hers as she felt her climax build again. She cried out at the sudden release, a shower of white and glowing blue sparks that seemed to fall over her. His back tightened under her touch, and he arched back as he shouted out her name.

He fell heavily to the bed beside her, facedown as he trembled. Catalina was shaking too, exhausted and exalted by the pleasure of their lovemaking. By the sheer joy of being with Jamie. She opened her eyes to stare up at the canvas ceiling above them, breathing slowly and deeply until she could float back down to earth again. She smiled, feeling so wonderfully free. So perfectly where she should be.

Jamie wrapped his arm around her waist and hugged her close as she turned on her side with her back pressed to his chest. She ran her fingertips over his arm as she listened to the sound of his breath mingle with the night breeze outside.

‘Tell me a tale,’ she said softly.

Jamie chuckled sleepily. ‘What sort of tale?’

‘One of your home.’

‘I have told you about Castonbury already!’

Catalina laughed. ‘I want to hear it again. I want to know everything about you.’ Just as he knew her stories of her own life—her parents and their cold, correct home; her brother, lost fighting against a tyrannical king; her first marriage, so brief and so disappointing. She much preferred to hear about England and his family there.

Jamie laughed. ‘I don’t think you would want to know everything. You might not like me so much then.’

‘Never!’ Catalina protested. ‘Your home cannot be so awful. From what you have told me it sounds beautiful.’

‘Castonbury is beautiful, in its own terrible way.’ Jamie kissed her hair, but she could hear from the faraway note in his voice that he was somewhere else in his mind for the moment. ‘When I was a child I thought it was its own world, a playground for me and my siblings. We ran over the fields, fished and rowed on the lakes, played hide-and-seek behind the marble columns. Chased one another in front of gilded mirrors and under Waterford glass chandeliers and frescoed rotundas. We never realised how grand it all was.’