Heart Of A Knight by Barbara Samuel

Author:Barbara Samuel [Samuel, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon.com
Published: 1996-12-31T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Lyssa found she could not bear, after all, to sit in the company with the rest, and let Thomas tease her. But neither could she settle anywhere, not with the restlessness in her limbs. She went first to her solar, but found she had no patience for the work. The hall was too hot, the orchard filled with peaches, which made her think of apples. Finally, she made her way to the battlements of the castle roof. In times of war, the place was manned with armed guards, but for now she had it to herself.

As a child, it had been her favorite place, for ever was it deserted, reached only by a twisting set of stairs rising above two of the tower rooms. It gave a view of the whole shire, the forest and the hills, the village and the road, the river winding silver on its path toward the sea. All was gilded now by the late gold sun, casting long fingers through breaks in the trees. Neat squares of ripening crops spread out in a quilt from the village. Over all flew a pair of ravens, arched wings black against the hazy sky.

Looking at it, Lyssa let go of a breath, thinking of her return home and the first night she had come here. Thomas had joined her then, but she thought she could make out his black-headed figure among the tables in the bailey far below.

She was mistaken.

"I sought you in the solar," he said. "And your chamber and the hall, and then remembered me that you liked this roof and the quiet."

She closed her eyes in defeat. "Go away, Thomas. 'Tis from you I flee."

"Nay," he said, and she felt him behind her, close but not touching. His voice quieted. "'Tis yourself you flee."

She bowed her head. "I wish to be alone, sir."

"And I," he stepped closer, "wish to be with you." His hand brushed the back of her neck, and a shiver of reaction moved on her spine. Before she knew what he was about, he bent and put his mouth on that very place on the back of her neck that had felt so odd.

Her reaction was almost violent. Hard ripples of desire rocked her from shoulder to knee, and a sound—half moan, half cry—escaped her throat. The sensation was excruciating and exquisite and painful and she stood frozen as stone as he moved and lightly bit her, round the side of her neck, to her ear. She only stood, eyes closed, trembling in resistance and reaction.

"Thomas," she said in a whisper. "This is madness."

But even as she said it, his hands slid up her sides to cover her aching breasts, gathering her flesh into the cup of his palms as if to gauge the weight. A bolt of fierce need rocked her. She held herself rigid, her hands on the walls.

"Nay, Lyssa," he said, "'tis fate." His fingers brushed the aroused peaks of her nipples below the silk, and his mouth suckled at the place on her nape, and Lyssa found she trembled.

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