Pendragon Rises by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Author:Tracy Cooper-Posey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ancient Historical Romance, King Arthur
Publisher: Tracy Cooper-Posey
Published: 2018-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The stable he led her to was large and filled with horses and straw, which made it warmer than the room in which Igraine’s women had slept the previous night. The horses barely looked up from their slack-hipped nibbling as Steffan pulled Anwen through the stalls to the gear room at the end. A workbench against one wall was covered in bits of bridles and saddles being repaired. On the other side was a pile of hay, taller than a man at the back and sloping to the floor at a gentle angle.

Steffan laid his cloak upon the hay, put his staff against the wall and drew her against him. As she trembled, he kissed her. “Do not fear me.”

“I do not. Not now,” she whispered. She didn’t finish the rest of the thought. There was a comfort in knowing he could not see her. He did not see her plain looks and her undistinguished hair.

Or she thought he did not.

He eased her clothes from her in slow, gentle stages, which broke with her understanding that a man would find the fastest route to access a woman’s body—a flip of a skirt, a torn bodice… Steffan did neither and she marveled at the difference, even as she shivered in the warm, still air.

“You’re still cold,” he breathed, his lips brushing her shoulder.

“No.”

“Ah, then I must soothe your concerns away.” He put her hands on his chest, over the leather of his jerkin “Your turn.”

Her mind blanked. “You mean…?”

He smiled. “Yes. You take them off me. How else are you to learn?”

How, indeed. She fumbled to unbuckle the jerkin, with Steffan helping her, then tugged the shirt from his trousers. She was not tall enough to lift it over his head, so Steffan shrugged out of it and dropped it to one side.

Anwen’s trembling increased. She reached out to touch his flesh, the rounded mounds and dips, where the muscles ended. “May I?” she asked.

Steffan seemed to know what she meant. He reached for her hand and found it, then drew it to him and pressed her palm against his chest. He drew in a breath. “Your hand is hot against me.”

Anwen smoothed her fingers over his skin, enjoying the warmth and softness. Then, driven by an impulse she didn’t understand but obeyed anyway, she pressed her lips against his flesh, right over his heart.

He drew in a rough breath. She could feel his heart working, just below her lips. The sound of its fast beating made her own leap even higher. She reached for the fastenings of his trousers. She had never unfastened trousers before, although she had made many pairs and knew how they worked. Only, her fingers felt stiff and uncooperative. The flesh tingled because of the proximity to his body, to there.

“Let me,” he said, his voice hoarse. He stripped the garment away and she saw for the first time the proud flesh.

Steffan drew her to the cloak he had spread upon the straw and laid her down and kissed her.

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