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  She caught her breath, overwhelmed by the intimacy and by the way her whole body responded. It was as though the mouth-to-mouth contact promised more. So much more.

  His hands skimmed up and down her ribs, then upward, brushing the sides of her breasts, making them suddenly ache.

  She needed to ease the fullness in them—by pressing them against his broad chest.

  Before she could raise her hands to pull him closer, he let his arms drop to his side and stepped back, putting a foot of space between them. As the heat of his body left hers, she felt such a sense of profound loss that she had to steady her hand against the wall.

  When she raised questioning eyes to his, he murmured, “Your nurse is coming back.”

  She had forgotten about Brinna, forgotten everything but the man who held her in his arms.

  “Eat the food she brings you,” he said. “You will need your strength.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her with a feeling of lingering emptiness.

  Chapter Three

  Devon drew in several quick breaths, then crossed to the washbasin where she poured water from the pitcher and splashed it on her face, hoping it would hide the heated flush of her skin.

  When Brinna opened the door, she kept her back to the nurse.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You sound…strange.”

  “I’m just upset by the siege,” she lied. She had forgotten all about the siege. “I’ll be all right.”

  She heard Brinna set down the tray on the stand beside the bed and hesitate for a moment.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No. Thank you,” she answered.

  Brinna withdrew, and Devon was alone again.

  She turned from the basin and looked at the tray. Under the covering was bread, cheese and mead.

  With a guilty glance at the window, she sat down and began to eat. Once she took the first bite, she couldn’t stop herself from gobbling down the small meal.

  She looked toward her door, but it was still closed, and no mysterious men lurked in the corners of the room. Quickly she strode to the wedding chest in the corner and stood for a moment looking at the intricate carvings on the top. Since childhood, she had been filling the interior with things she would need when she married. If she ever did.

  Like the fancy pillowcases for her marriage bed. Lady Ellena had made her take out the stitches over and over until she was satisfied with the yellow flowers and the green leaves that ran around the open edges.

  The pillowcases had always been a hateful reminder to her of an upper-class woman’s life in Arandal. A lady was supposed to be good at gentle arts like sewing and painting and calligraphy, and at keeping the household accounts in case her husband trusted her with his domestic business. No woman needed to know history, geography or astronomy. Nothing interesting. They couldn’t argue about politics and religion and the universe, in the way of learned men.

  Near the bottom of the chest was a set of rough boy’s clothing she had worn sometimes when she sneaked out of the castle. Below them was a book, The Dragon and the Maidens, that she had stolen from the library. It was one of the books that told of forbidden magic. She had read many of the volumes in secret. But this one had drawn her like no other. She had read it with a kind of horrible fascination, and she had never returned it to the shelves. Even though she knew that if anyone found it in her room, she might be risking everything.

  After hiding the book again, she paced back and forth across her room, thinking of the man who had come to her. If she told anyone about him, they would think her mad—or bewitched. Neither was a good alternative.

  She cursed him for stirring up feelings that were not appropriate. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from reliving the encounter. Which was not a good idea, because the recent memories set off a buzzing in her body.

  To cool herself, she went back to the window and looked down. Nothing had changed. The inner keep was still alive with miserable people who would likely die there if nothing happened to lift the siege.

  Devon ached to go down into the courtyard and make herself useful. She could give the women and children comfort. Perhaps even tend to their ills. But her father had ordered her to stay up here, and all she could do was look down from her window, then pray again for the safety of the people below.

  Brinna came again, with maids bringing a tub and water so that Devon could bathe. She felt guilty about the luxury, but she took time washing her hair and her body, because she had nothing else to do. Then she dressed in a clean gown.

  As she paced her room, she thought of Galladar, wondering again if she had made him up because the siege had unbalanced her?

  No. He had seemed too real.

  Perhaps he was a devil, come to tempt her.

  She shivered, knowing what kind of temptation he had offered.

  Later, when Brinna brought another small meal, Devon asked, “You’re good at listening to the talk. Is there any hope of our fighting off the enemy?”

  “I overheard some of the knights. There may be some kind of negotiation.”

  Devon caught a note of worry in her friend’s voice. “What is it?”

  “Nothing I’m sure of. Eat your dinner.”

  “If you share it with me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” Devon insisted.

  “You must keep up your strength.”

  “For what?”

  Brinna didn’t answer, but she took some of the bread and cheese.

  As darkness finally descended, Devon changed into a night rail and lit a candle. When she looked up from the flame, Galladar was standing by the door.

  Once again, she hadn’t heard him enter. As she stared at him, her heart began to pound. From fear? Or from eagerness? Or both.

  When she started to speak, he crossed to her and pressed his finger against her mouth. “Quiet. You don’t want to bring Brinna back.”

  “I should call for her.”

  “Yes. But you won’t.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself. And of me.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She wanted to take a step back, but he kept his other hand on her arm, the pressure of his fingers making her skin prickle.

  “Don’t,” she said, but the objection was automatic. She wanted him to keep touching her, wanted him to kiss her again.

  Instead of meeting her mouth, he feathered kisses along the line of her jaw, the side of her neck, the small triangle of flesh at the top of her gown.

  Her heart pounded, and her senses spun—from the sensations he created and from the knowledge that she was heading into forbidden territory.

  “I must not,” she managed to say.

  “Must not what?”

  “I’m sure you know better than I do.”

  She felt a low rumble in his chest. “I do know.” He tipped her head up so that her gaze met his.

  “This is forbidden to me…” she said.

  “I know what you can do—and what you can’t.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

  He made up her mind by lowering his mouth to hers, and this time the kiss wasn’t quite so gentle. Yet she welcomed its hunger and the hot tides that began to flow through her body.

  Perhaps she wanted to escape from her fear and anguish, and this was the only way to do it. In the arms of a man who had the power to wipe everything from her mind—but him.

  Carefully, he undid the tie at the top of her night rail, then lightly kissed the skin he exposed. His lips sent a shiver through her.

  “Don’t be afraid of me.”

  “Should I be?”

  “No. I only mean to give you pleasure.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it will please me as well.”

  When he reached for the next tie that closed the placket at the front of her gown, she stayed his hand. “Stop.”<
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  He pulled his hand away at once.

  “I know something about what men and women do together.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve heard the maids talk. I know how a man takes a woman’s virginity.”

  “You mean he puts his cock inside her?”

  The frank words made her blush to the roots of her hair.

  “Yes,” she managed to say.

  “I won’t.”

  “They say that when a man is in bed with a woman, his excitement…urges him on.”

  “There are many ways to please a man besides sexual intercourse.”

  “Sexual intercourse?”

  “That’s what it’s called—the act that is forbidden to you. But I can show you other ways we can please each other. If you want to learn them.”

  She swallowed, feeling as if she had traveled so far into unknown territory that she was lost. Yet this man was treating her as no one else ever had. How many people wanted to please her—or even cared what she thought?

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

  Her fingers clenched around his forearm. “No.”

  “All right then.” He gathered her close, holding her gently, rocking her in his arms. It was a long time since anyone had held her that tenderly, and she let her head drift to his shoulder.

  “You’re as sweet as I knew you would be.”

  “How?”

  “I watched you.”

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “I took care that no one did.”

  She could have focused on his words, but her thoughts fled elsewhere as he eased away and pulled at the ties of her gown, opening the placket. When she looked down, she could see the creamy inner curve of her breasts where the front of the night rail was no longer closed.

  Slowly, giving her time to absorb what he was doing, stopping to talk to her and kiss her lips, he stroked those curves, first one side and then the other.

  She closed her eyes and clenched her hands, ordering herself not to leap away. As she should.

  He kept up the stroking, and she felt her nipples tighten until they became hard points of sensation.

  He touched them through the thin fabric of the gown, rubbing back and forth across each crest.

  “Oh!”

  “You like that?”

  He must know that she did. But she couldn’t say it.

  When she’d imagined intimacy, she’d imagined domination. But she’d never pictured being touched like this. Or imagined the sweet sensations it would create within her.

  When she felt herself waver on unsteady legs, he picked her up in his arms as though she were as light as a doll and carried her to the bed, where he carefully laid her down.

  She stared up at him, knowing that they had gone too far already.

  “I can’t…” she whispered.

  “I won’t take your virginity. I promise that.”

  Was he lying? Could she trust him?

  She might be a fool to believe him, yet she wanted more of what he offered.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, but he left the rest of his clothing on before easing onto the bed beside her.

  As she stared up at him, he slipped his hand into her night rail, stroking her breast, circling one nipple until his finger brushed against the edge of that tightened point, sending heat shooting downward through her body.

  Her breath turned ragged as he took it between his thumb and finger and squeezed and pulled gently.

  “I didn’t know anything could feel that good.”

  “We’re just getting started.” He kissed her lightly, then drew back. Looking down at her, he folded the placket of the gown back so that cool air washed over her breasts.

  “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, stroking his hand over her, then lowering his mouth to one taut nipple. When he began to suck, she struggled not to cry out.

  His free hand found the hem of her gown, stroking her ankles, her calves, her knees. When he reached her thighs, she pressed them together.

  “You can’t,” she whispered.

  “Let me please you.”

  She couldn’t tell him to stop or go on. Not when her blood was roaring in her ears so loudly that she could hardly think. When his fingers combed through the triangle of blond hair at the juncture of her legs, she was shocked to her toes. Then his hand pressed against a spot just below, and she arched into his touch. In the next moment she gasped and drew back, turning her head away as she realized how brazen that must seem.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “I think you know it does.”

  “Open your thighs.”

  She did, just a little.

  He must be working magic on her because she should never have allowed him such liberties.

  He dipped into the folds of her most intimate flesh, sending shivers radiating through her.

  Warnings from Lady Ellena came back to her. She thought he might throw himself on top of her. Instead he stayed beside her, stroking her hidden places, making her wet and slippery and molten.

  “Brinna will hear us,” she gasped.

  “She’s gone downstairs again.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard her. Stop thinking of Brinna. Think only of what you’re feeling.”

  He continued to pleasure her woman’s parts, caressing her breasts at the same time, the sensations reinforcing each other, building so that she teetered on the brink between pleasure and pain, feeling her body’s urgent quest for something she didn’t know how to name.

  Unbearable pressure built inside her. She felt her legs stiffen, her hands clench, her breath saw in and out.

  He nibbled at her ear with his teeth, stroked the gentle curves with his tongue.

  “Let go. Just let yourself feel how good it can be,” he whispered, holding her close as he guided her into a world where there was only unbearable heat and blinding light.

  She thought the power surging through her body might consume her—until he pushed her over the edge into ecstasy. Crying out his name, she clung to him as wave after wave of blinding sensation radiated from the place where his fingers stroked between her legs. The waves crashed over her, through her, leaving her shaken.

  She lay breathing hard, her body limp with satisfaction. But when she turned her head toward him, she saw that his body was rigid, his face taut.

  Remembering how she had felt before the wonderful release of her tension, she murmured, “You gave me pleasure, but you took none for yourself.”

  “Are you offering a remedy?”

  Chapter Four

  Devon swallowed. She had lain in his arms, letting him do anything he wanted. And it had turned out to be what she wanted, although she hadn’t known what to ask for. Now she felt the need to return the favor.

  “If you tell me what to do,” she answered, knowing how brazen that sounded.

  He reached for her hand, pressing it against the rigid shaft that strained at the front of his leggings.

  Her hand jumped as she felt the size of him, but she didn’t pull away.

  “You can give me pleasure in the same way I gave it to you.”

  She stroked him there, frustrated by the layer of clothing that covered him until he untied the front of his garment and guided her hand inside.

  Her hand went rigid, then rested against his hot flesh, getting accustomed to the feel of him. It was like touching an iron rod with a silky covering. When she began to stroke him, he made a low sound of pleasure.

  He pulled his placket open, so that his rod sprang out, standing away from his body like a pole.

  “Why don’t the other men look like that?” she asked.

  “They do—when they’re ready for sex.”

  Fascinated, she sat up and leaned over to stare at him. His instrument was compelling. Commanding. Like the man himself. There was a bead of moisture at the end and she touched it with her finger.

  “That looks like it would hurt,” she wh
ispered.

  “Is that how you think of sex—in terms of hurting?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Men are rough and impatient with women.”

  “You heard that from the maids?”

  She nodded, unable to say more.

  “Only if the men they’re with are young and inexperienced. Or louts.”

  He could have reached for her. Instead, he stayed on his back, his gaze burning into hers, and she knew he was still giving her a choice. What happened now was up to her.

  “What should I do?”

  “Clasp my cock in your hand.”

  He sighed as she closed her fist around him, squeezing him gently.

  “Harder.” He folded his fingers around hers, moving her hand up and down, and she understood what he wanted her to do. Leaning over him, she stroked him with vigor, feeling the skin slide up and down over the shaft.

  Her gaze shifted between his face and his rod, as she tried to take in the whole experience, marveling at the intimacy of touching him that way.

  Suddenly his body stiffened. As his cock jerked, white liquid pumped out, shooting in an arc.

  He fell back against the covers, breathing hard, and she stared at him, amazed at what she had just done.

  When he clasped her to him, kissing her, she snuggled against him, overwhelmed by the whole experience. Had they really done such things?

  Or was this all a dream that she had fashioned for herself?

  Was he even real?

  If so, she wanted him to stay with her. More than that, she wanted him to tell her that he would spirit her away from the castle. He must have come from a place of safety. He could take her there.

  In the next moment, shame washed over her. She was looking for an easy way out of the siege, but where would that leave her father’s people?

  “How long can you stay?” she asked.

  “A short while.”

  “I wish…”

  “That things were different,” he finished.

  A question trembled on her lips.

  “Can you tell me how to save the castle?” she asked.

  “Like in the old myths?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you know about them?”

  “I know that a dragon saved the kingdom long ago when it was in danger.”