A Knight of Passion - By Tarah Scott Page 0,16
his hard length against her mound and trailed a moist kiss from the swell of her breasts to her ear.
“Did he make you feel like this?” Bryant angled his rod so that the tip rubbed her sex. “Did he take his time with you as I did…as I will again?” Bryant covered her mouth with his.
He flicked his tongue against her lips and she opened. He swept inside, tasting, learning the feel of her, then sucked her tongue into his mouth, with the silent demand she learn the feel of him. He reached between them and slipped a finger into her folds. Slick heat coated his finger.
He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “You are so wet.”
Her cheeks coloured, and his cock jumped. By God, the wench wasn’t as jaded as she would have him believe. There were things still that he could teach her, things that would take them deep into the night and past dawn.
He removed his finger and brought it to his nostrils. Eyes closed, he inhaled deeply, then opened his eyes and locked gazes with her as he inserted the finger into his mouth and slid the digit past his lips. The tang of her sweet juices coated his tongue and he swallowed. Satisfaction shot through him when the colour in her cheeks deepened.
He straightened and slipped her left arm into a sleeve, then the right arm. She let him tug the dress down over her head, then grasped the skirt and shimmied it past her breasts. Desire sent his heart into an erratic beat. If he didn’t take her away from here, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from fucking her while Dunbar and the warden looked on. The hem fell past her hips, then lower to drop over her feet.
Bryant turned, caught sight of her slippers near the desk and fetched them. He returned to her side and she reached for the shoes, but he dropped onto one knee and grasped one of her feet. She tried to tug free, but he looked up at her. Her brow snapped down in confusion.
“Lift your skirt,” he instructed.
She pursed her lips but did as he ordered. Bryant grasped the back of her foot and gently slid her toes into the slipper, then worked the rest of the shoe on. He did the same with the second shoe, then rose and faced the men.
“We are ready, Sir Dunbar.”
Both men turned and Dunbar strode towards them. Riana cast him a glance, then tried to step around Bryant. He grasped her elbow, pulling her to his side as his mentor reached them.
She shot Bryant a recriminating look, then said to the warden, “We have not concluded our business.”
Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Your husband-to-be disagrees.”
She glanced at Bryant, eyes narrowed. She was clearly not impressed with his proposal of marriage.
“What is this foolishness?” she demanded.
No, she was not the least bit impressed. “Not foolishness,” he replied.
“I will not leave.”
Bryant looked at the warden. “We will return. See to her friend until then.”
The warden angled his head an inch. “As you wish.”
Bryant turned them towards the door, then stopped at a hard rap that rattled the wood.
“My lord,” came the voice of the man who had tried to stop them from entering the room. The door swung open. He pushed past Bryant and addressed the warden. “Men-at-arms are approaching the gates.”
“What is their crest?” Bryant demanded.
The man’s head snapped in Bryant’s direction, then he sent a questioning look at the warden. The warden nodded, and the man replied to Bryant, “The Duke of Arundel.”
Bryant looked at the warden. “Is there another way out of this prison?”
“Of course.”
“Where is the nearest priest?”
“In the east tower,” he replied.
“You have a priest here—now?”
“A man is dying. He requested a priest.”
Bryant glanced at Sir Dunbar. “It is now or never.”
“You have not concluded your business with the lady,” Dunbar reminded him.
Bryant silently cursed. If Riana had no incriminating knowledge against the duke or duchess, his marriage to her would be a declaration of war. He looked down at to her.
She stared, dark eyes wide with disbelief. “You are mad.”
Lust—and an unnamed emotion—surged through him. She was right. But he wouldn’t let her go. Bryant faced his mentor. “I am dedicated to the course. You may leave by a separate path.”
Sir Dunbar laughed. “You would deprive me of the fun?”
Bryant laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I would not have you perish with me.”
“You will need a witness to the marriage. The warden’s word