By His Majesty's Grace by Jennifer Blake

Author:Jennifer Blake [Blake, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2011-07-27T04:00:00+00:00

11

Isabel roused from a ravishing dream to feel an exquisite caress on the very peak of her breast. So sensitive had she become to such things of late that she was instantly awash in desire. She made a small sound deep in her throat and tried to turn toward that touch. She could not. Rand lay with one elbow propped on the mattress beside her and a heavy knee across hers, so she was wedged between his arm and his lower body.

She slept without clothing, as most did in summer. He had eased the sheet from her so her breasts were bare. Now he touched her with only the sword-calloused surface of one palm, brushing in small circles above her nipple so he barely skimmed the tight and tender bud.

She lifted her lashes by slow degrees, still not fully awake. Her husband’s face was serious, absorbed. He watched what he was doing, and her reaction, as if nothing had ever been so fascinating. To be touched with such attentiveness was stirring beyond any mere caress.

“You are late to bed this night,” she said with the beginning of a smile.

“I had things to do.”

“Did you?” she asked, but with little curiosity. There was heat in the depths of his gaze that she had learned to recognize. Sleeping was not his intention, she thought, now that he had joined her on the feather mattress. He had discarded his clothing, was completely, rampantly, naked.

“I needed to go a-berrying.”

A small frown pleated the skin between her brows. She wasn’t sure she had heard aright. “Berrying?”

“For these.” He took his palm from her breast and reached to take up a small crock that sat on the mattress near her shoulder.

The crock held raspberries. Their sweet, mellow scent drifted to her. A faint inkling of his intention touched her as she recalled his earlier song, though she could scarcely credit it. “Hardly a task for a knight,” she said, her voice a little husky.

“Oh, I didn’t pick them myself, but only searched them out in town.”

Reaching into the bowl, he took a handful. Gaze intent, he placed the ruby-red berries, one by one, in a deep semicircle from one collarbone to the other, so the line curved just above her nipples. Some few berries would not stay in place on the milky-pale hillocks they traversed, but tumbled down into the valley between them. He bent his head to pick up the truants with lips and tongue and crunch them between his white teeth.

A drawing sensation invaded her lower body. She squirmed a little beneath him. “Rand…”

“Shh,” he said, his warm breath drifting over her breasts.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a necklace to replace the Order of the Garter you put away.” Another pair of berries fell from their places and he followed them, leaving a trail of kisses along their path.

“It isn’t necessary,” she protested on a gasp. “Only let me up, and—”

“Do not deny me, I beg. I have been thinking of this all day.”

“Have you?” The surface of her chest felt on fire.

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