Free Mathis, Jolie by The Sea King

a pitiably small conscience when it came to lust. Of the sins he had committed, this would be among his least.
    With his fingers splayed against the stone, he bent and peered inside again. Isabel pulled a long, pale gown over her head. He snatched only the briefest view of her softly curving buttocks and long legs.
    Isabel turned. She stared directly at the wall. At him. Surely she couldn't see him.
    Tears streamed down her cheeks.
    With a hiss, Kol closed his eyes.
    Exercising more effort than he wished to admit, he stepped back. As far away from the hole as he could remove himself.
    He fell back on Ranulf's bed and stared at the ceiling timbers, a crucifix above him.
    Of course she would cry. Had he expected otherwise? She was a woman. Her home had been attacked, her loved ones defeated and killed. He had taken her child from her. And perhaps a beloved husband.
    And he would change nothing if given the chance.
    Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in the same self-taught meditation he had practiced since he was a child. He willed the blackness to consume his insides; his mind, heart, and soul, until he felt like nothing more than a shadow, transient upon the earth. Indifferent to the lot which awaited him in the coming days.
    When he at last saw nothing, he slept.
    And dreamt.
    She came to his bed, her eyes brilliant as jewels against her white skin. There were no more tears. She gleamed with fearlessness. He smiled. She smiled in return.
    He saw the glimmer near her breast.
    'Twas no dream—
    As quick as an asp, his hand shot up to halt the dagger's murderous plunge.

Chapter 5
    "How—?" Kol demanded, squeezing her wrist. The tip of the blade quivered just above his bare chest. What of his guards? How had she breached the security of his chambers?
    The princess peered down, her cheeks aflush, her eyes wide. Her upper lip twitched into half of a smile but behind, her teeth were clenched.
    "I had an inkling you fancied knives, Thorleksson." With a tug she attempted to free her wrist. "So I brought you another."
    Beside him, she crouched upon the bed, all curves and hazy softness. The glowing hearth, behind her, gave her a surreal glow. Two slender feet peeked out from the hem of her linen gown. How pretty she was.
    God save his soul. He felt nothing but excitement with her bent above him, blade in hand.
    "Who are you, Isabel?" Kol stared into her eyes. With one stiff shake of her wrist the blade clattered to the floor.
    He arose to one elbow. "The suffering princess or the brave warrioress?"
    Her smile grew by a hair. "Neither, Norseman."
    "Then what?"
    She bent low, so close he felt the quiver of her breath upon his lips. Silken tresses caressed his shoulder. Deep within his chest something staggered, and he recognized it as the beat of his heart. With gentle pressure, he pulled her hand to his chest. Cool, slender fingers splayed across his skin. Her pupils were huge. Fear shone in her eyes, but was he wrong to believe he also saw exhilaration?
    He lifted his head, just a fraction, and brushed his lips across hers. She exhaled, then murmured, "Your executioner."
    And in that instant her other hand swung up. Though he could not see the blade, he knew—
    "Isabel!" he rasped, stunned by her ferocity.
    Instinctively he deflected her attack, and at the same time scuttled back, up the mattress. His senses exploded in shock as his own weapon plunged between his legs, a hair's breadth from her original target.
    His loins.
    While he gaped, stunned, the princess tugged frantically at the blade, trying to get it free. Her knuckles brushed heavily against him. In one white-hot flash, blood surged into his member. A half-moan escaped his lips.
    The princess ceased her struggle and stared at his groin. There, the hilt of the blade protruded rigid and phallic. Color suffused her cheeks.
    The sight of her fingers, slender and white, around the shaft—
    Jesu.
    Kol felt heat flush his own cheeks. Dismayed, he clasped his hands over hers