Free Margaret Moore by A Rogues Embrace Page B

ladies.
    “Give me your stocking.”
    “We have not—”
    “Let me throw it to them so they will go away.”
    Inadvertently giving him a breathtaking glimpse of her naked leg, she eagerly took off her stocking, balled it in her hand and gave it to him.
    “Your Majesty,” he declared as if lacking breath, a state not totally feigned, “I am most
extremely
grateful.”
    With that, he leaned over her again, opened the bed curtains a little and threw the stocking toward the part of the room where most of the noise originated.
    As Richard shifted back to his side of the bed, she realized he was not nearly so heavy as William Longbourne had been. The prèssureof his thighs was not unbearable and she realized that whatever the women had thought concerning his virility, they had apparently been somewhat conservative.
    Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, the king thrust his head between the bed curtains.
    “Odd’s fish, Blythe!” he growled, a look of such displeasure on his face, Elissa could scarce believe this was the same Merry Monarch. “Do you take us for a fool? Are we deaf? You have been whispering in here like a pair of spies exchanging information. Now go to it, and don’t throw this stocking again until you have made this beautiful lady your wife. Or God help us, we shall take back your new title and throw you both in the Tower until we are pleased to release you! We shall have no one seeking an annulment on the grounds of nuptial rights denied.”

Chapter 6
    T he king vanished as abruptly as he had appeared.
    Richard and Elissa sat in stunned silence for a moment before Richard grimly said, “Was that your clever plan, madam?”
    “No!” She took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her dismay. “I confess such a scheme never occurred to me—although I rather wish it had.
You
are supposed to be the clever one.”
    “Alas, I must have been distracted by the beauty of the bride, for I did not think of anything at all save to obey my sovereign.”
    “Oh, yes, that is all you thought about,” she remarked sarcastically. “Not a title or any other reward.”
    He moved closer still.
    “You have caught me in a lie, my dear,” he confessed softly. “I have been thinking ofother things that perhaps may also be classified as a reward.”
    “Such as?”
    With a low chuckle, he put his arms around her and gently pulled her to him for a long and lingering, tender and promising kiss.
    He half-expected her to pull away and slap his face—yet she did not.
    Amazingly, after a moment’s unresponsiveness, she yielded.
    Her simpleton of a husband had indeed been a fool not to kiss her. Why, she had the most perfect lips, both firm and yet softly pliant.
    Then, as suddenly as the king had interrupted them, he realized she was doing more than simply yielding to the inevitable. She clutched his shoulders and leaned into him, her desire as obvious as his own.
    With mild insistence, craving more, almost dreading that this was some sort of trick intended to arouse him before she rejected him, he insinuated his tongue into her mouth.
    No trick. No sudden pulling away as their tongues entwined, doing the old, old dance.
    And best of all, no sense that he was merely being used because he was handsome, or famous, or dangerously exciting, a thing to be discussed in the same tone as a fine horse or clever dog or expensive objet d’art.
    With his left arm still about her, he ran hishand through her glorious, luxurious hair. It was as soft as a rabbit’s fur and smelled of wildflowers.
    A low moan filled the air between them, and Richard realized it was his.
    With less patience, his hand left her hair. He must and would taste her satin-soft skin that stretched so enticingly over her collar bone.
    His hand encountered her chemise. He pushed it lower, then slipped his hand beneath.
    “I will not hurt you,” he murmured as he caressed her breast, lightly brushing his thumb across her nipple as she drew in a sharp breath.
    He felt