Nessa’s Seduction by Jayne Castel

8

HEALER, TEMPRESS

HUGH DIDN’T LEAVE.

Instead, he stepped close and began to unlace the front of her kirtle. He then reached down, caught both her kirtle and lèine by the hems, and drew them up. Aiding him, Nessa lifted her arms above her head, the draft pebbling her nipples and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin as Hugh tossed her garments away.

His gaze raked over her, devouring her nakedness.

Nessa shivered under the heat of his gaze. There was no wariness or discomfort on his face now. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Wordlessly, Hugh unbuckled his heavy sword belt, tossing it aside. He pulled up his hauberk around his waist before leaning forward and shrugging out of it. He then stripped off his gambeson, revealing a broad, heavily-muscled chest covered in crisp light-brown hair. Nessa spied a number of scars upon his torso, many of them silvered and puckered with age. This man had clearly spent his whole life as a soldier.

Breathing quickly now, she watched him heel off his heavy boots before he stripped off his chausses and hose. She’d never seen such a beautifully muscled body, tempered to iron by years of hard use.

Her gaze settled upon his shaft: big, hard, and ready for her.

His chest rose and fell fast as they stared at each other. Then Nessa stepped forward, took Hugh’s hand, and led him to the bed.

They fell upon it, kissing wildly, their hands everywhere. On her back, his big body moving over hers as his mouth traveled from her lips to her neck, Nessa gave herself up to his touch, to the hunger that now writhed within her.

Hugh cupped her heavy breasts, pushing them together and lifting them to his mouth. Her answering gasp mingled with the crackling of the hearth and the whisper of the wind against the stone walls of the cottage.

Hugh moved down her body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire over the curve of her belly before he parted her thighs wide, cupped her buttocks, and raised her up to him. The feel of his mouth on her there made Nessa cry out, and without even realizing what she was doing, she dug her hands into his scalp, urging him on.

Nessa cried out again. Her limbs started to tremble, wildness rippling through her as she arched hard against his mouth.

A moment later, he released her. Breathing hard, Hugh parted her quivering thighs and positioned himself between them. Taking his rod in hand, he guided it into her—and Nessa spread herself wider still to accommodate him.

He slid deep, burying himself to the root, and then stilled there a moment, letting her adjust to him.

Sweat beaded across Nessa’s skin as she stared up at Hugh. His face was a study in self-control, even if she noted how his strong jaw tensed, how his eyes glittered down at her in lust.

It had been a long while since she’d taken a man to her bed. Nearly five years if she was marking the time. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have a lover buried inside her: the intimacy, joy, and freedom of it.

Somehow it didn’t matter that Hugh was English. Their identities didn’t matter at that moment; she even had trouble remembering the reason she’d wanted him in her bed in the first place.

The mission.

It drifted into her consciousness before dissipating like morning mist.

She couldn’t hold onto it at present, not when Hugh started to move inside her. He braced himself above her, sliding into Nessa in slow, even strokes. The slick heat between them made her groan, made her want. She hooked her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper into her with each thrust.

She felt a quiver in his powerful body as he struggled to hold himself in check.

He had iron-will this man, even lost in the throes of passion.

Nessa wasn’t so strong. Aching pleasure built in her lower belly, and her eyes widened as it consumed her.

She gasped when wet heat exploded deep within her, a sensation she’d never experienced before during coupling. It was a wild, unraveling sensation. She trembled, her back arching off the bed as she sought to prolong the pleasure of it.

Panting, Nessa let her eyes flutter closed, her head rolling back against the pillow.

Maiden’s blood, this English knight certainly knows how to please a woman.

Hugh eventually let himself go. Unlike Nessa, whose groans and gasps now filled the interior of the dwelling, he didn’t make a sound. However, she felt the tension coil within him as he reached his peak. Eyes opening, she watched him take one last deep thrust—his head thrown back, eyes closed, his face a rictus of pleasure—and then the heat of his seed filled her.

Panting, Hugh lowered himself down onto the bed next to his lover. He reached out then, his hand sliding up from her belly, across her heaving breasts, to her flushed neck.

Nessa’s body was slick with sweat, and he could still feel her trembling in the aftermath of the storm that had just spent itself.

Hugh reached up farther, brushing his knuckles along the soft curve of her cheek.

Nessa’s eyes flickered open, and her gaze met his. A sensual smile curved that delicious mouth, and although he was still recovering from taking her, Hugh’s groin tightened in response. It was folly, his lust for this woman, but at present, he couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t indulge.

It was still winter; the army wouldn’t be moving on for a while yet. The bitter cold would last for at least another month, and in the meantime, he could forget himself for a spell. Perhaps they both could.

“I liked that,” she murmured, a sultry husk to her voice.

“So did I,” he replied with a slow smile of his own.

Her eyes—moss green with a jade rimming the irises—gleamed then, and she raised a hand, letting her fingertips trace a line from his collarbone down the center of his chest. Her touch made him shiver, his shaft hardening further still.

This woman had lovely hands, healer’s hands—temptress’s hands.

“We both needed that, I believe,” she murmured, her lashes lowering as a pretty blush stained her cheeks.

Hugh’s mouth quirked. “Aye … it’s been a while,” he admitted.

“Really?” She sounded incredulous.

“Aye, my wife died a few years ago … and I’ve been too busy to take a lover since.” It was the truth. Hugh had spent most of his adult life serving his king. His time with women over the years, although often passionate, had been brief.

“I suppose conquering Scotland leaves a man with little time for much else,” Nessa replied. There was no missing the tart edge to her voice.

Ignoring the barb, Hugh nodded. His gaze traveled over Nessa’s face. She had pretty, even features, and that mouth that had so enticed him from the very beginning was swollen from his kisses.

“It’s been a long winter,” he said, stroking her soft cheek once more, “and when a comely Scottish healer caught my eye, I remembered that I am, indeed, a man.”

In truth, lustful thoughts had plagued him over the past days. Hugh hadn’t planned to return to this cottage—in fact, as he’d stridden away days earlier, he’d sworn he wouldn’t. But he just couldn’t keep away. He’d stood there like a dull-wit before Nessa’s door, gathering the nerve to knock, when she’d appeared from around the back of her cottage. There’d been no going back then.

“I’m glad ye came back.” Nessa’s voice softened. “This life gets lonely sometimes.”

Hugh frowned. “You shouldn’t really live alone, lass … it isn’t safe.”

She gave a soft snort, making it clear he should mind his own business. She then reached out and slid her hand down from his chest to his belly. Her fingers clasped around his rock-hard rod, and Hugh stifled a groan. “Will ye stay a little longer?” she whispered.

Their gazes fused then, desire sparking between them. Hugh had never met a woman like this. Enigmatic, sensual, and strong-willed—Nessa made him wish that winter was just beginning.

“Aye,” he growled before he leaned down and claimed her lips with his.