Free The Virgin Proxy by Georgia Fox

and reported back to Devaux. Distraught, she glanced down over the battlements to where the green liquid spattered the grey stone. Had he done that out of spite or genuine concern for her safety?
    “Go to my bedchamber, then, wench. Your mistress requires you this morning I’m sure.” A slow smile slid over his lips, sensuous and smug. “She will be tired and sore. I rode her well last night and stabled her sweating.”
    She looked at him, at all that disgusting beauty—his wild blue eyes and windblown dark curls; those broad shoulders and their incredible power; the hands that had held her, touched her, stroked her. The fingers that had impaled her.
    His smile widened and once again she wondered if he knew it was her last night. If he did, where was her punishment?
    Anxious and confused, she found it quite impossible to remain mute.
    “Take care, my lord. Your new destrier has a streak of wildness and a mouth that takes poorly to the bit. You may find yourself tossed from the saddle one of these nights.”
    The self-satisfied smile faded from his rugged features, but the fire in his eyes remained lit. In fact, the flame stretched higher in the draft she’d caused with her impertinence.
    Deorwynn moved to pass, but he stood in her way, feet apart. “Where did you sleep last night, wench? I searched these castle walls for you, after the wedding feast.” He grabbed her arm, his fingers spread, almost bruising her flesh.
    “Why? What have I done?”
    “Laid in a bath and let me see you. Tempted me almost beyond my mighty Norman endurance. Made me want to mate with you until I could think of naught else.”
    Her cheeks burned despite the cold wind biting ruthlessly though her skin.
    “Laid in a bath and touched yourself,” he added, head bowed toward her. “While I watched.”
    “It was a lapse,” she murmured. “I’m a sinner. The nuns at the convent would tell you.”
    His eyes sparked. “Have you done that before?” She tried to leave, but he would not relinquish her arm. “Have you?” he insisted, his voice sterner.
    “Have I what?”
    “Let another man see you naked?”
    She shook her head.
    His shoulders relaxed a half inch; his grip on her arm did not. “You liked it. You liked me looking at you, watching you.”
    “No I did not.”
    “You liked me touching you.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Gazing upon your naked body.”
    “No.” She squirmed to escape his grip, but a gust of strong wind slapped her gown against her legs. Almost swept off balance, she fell into his tall, steady form and the sudden bodily contact brought new light to his eyes.
    “Why would you allow me to touch you? Encourage it even? Am I not your enemy? Do you not despise me? That is what my wife told me last night.”
    “I didn’t know what to do when you saw me bathing. I was afraid. If I called out for the guard he might have done the same to me as you did. You rotten Normans are all alike.”
    “You were not afraid of me. You arched like a wild cat when I touched you. And you wanted more.”
    “No! What would the Lady Sybilia say if she saw you teasing me like—?”
    “It is not her place to question me.” His free hand came up to her chin, one finger curled beneath it. “Or yours.”
    He kissed her. She couldn’t say she had no warning, but the softness of his lips caressing hers was unexpected. His other kisses had been forceful, frenzied, hungry. This one was warm, tender. It lingered. This morning there was no veil in the way.
    His hand cupped her bosom, fingers teasing the shape through her gown.
    She pulled away. “Anyone could see! Have you no shame?”
    “They are all busy. No one looks at us.”
    “I doubt it would matter to you in any case,” she exclaimed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
    He shrugged, his eyes wide and very blue. “Why should it? I take where I desire.”
    “Even when you are not desired in return?” she demanded boldly.
    Closing the small gap between