Page 84 of The Blacksmith

And yet . . . Lance had known from the start there was a passion in her. Idalia just needed someone to trust. To allow her to relax, taking care of her as she did everyone else.

He was that someone.

He may not have come to seduce her, but by God that was exactly what he would do.

Chapter 28

Was she still angry?

Aye, but Lance would not be leaving Stanton Castle again without her.

Idalia sensed him standing behind her, but it wasn’t until she felt the braid being lifted off her back that she realized how close. A moment later, her hair fell against her back, the blue ribbon that had tied it together slipping onto the ground.

Pushing aside the very tresses he’d just released, Lance leaned closer. So close, she could feel his breath on her neck from behind.

“Show you?” he whispered. “Aye, I would gladly show you.” The kindling she’d added to the fire released a loud, resonant crackle as his lips finally touched her neck.

“I would gladly show you,” he whispered as he continued to trail featherlight kisses down her neck, her ear, “how sorry I am for not telling you sooner.”

His mouth lowered to the soft spot just behind her ear as his hands reached around to cup her breasts. Needing to see him, Idalia turned in his embrace. He kissed her so passionately, she could not catch her breath. Nor did she wish to. She poured all her emotion into that kiss—every tear she’d cried, every morning she’d awoken bereft from longing—and knew he was doing the same.

They came together desperately, but soon their kiss was much more. With just the thin chemise between them, Idalia could feel everything.

Lance reached down to the hem of her chemise, lifting it off in one swift motion. She wore nothing under it, and for a moment, he stepped back and stared at her. There was ample light in the chamber from the fire and wall torches for her to see the awe and reverence in his face.

“You look at me as if you’ve never seen a woman as such before.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Nay, I don’t want to know.”

“No woman matters but you.”

Lance tore off his shirt, revealing those arms she’d admired so many times before in the forge.

Reaching out, she indulged herself, sliding her hand from the marking on his bicep upward.

“I’m glad you left your surcoat behind.”

When he pulled her close once again, their bare skin touched, his chest hard against hers. And then he was kissing her again, his hands roaming from her back to her backside.

And that’s when she realized it.

This man, this big, handsome man would be her husband. He would be hers, and she would be his. Tonight and forever after.

“Your skin is so . . . ,” she murmured when his lips left her to explore, “warm.”

He smiled down at her and then swooped her up off her feet—“Oh!”—carrying her like a babe to the bed. His immense strength was belied by the gentleness with which he laid her down. The tenderness with which he regarded her.

Undressing himself, Lance never took his eyes from hers.

When his manhood sprang free, her eyes widened.

Idalia knew how this was supposed to work, but suddenly she could not imagine it.

She didn’t say so, but somehow he understood.

“Don’t worry,” he said, kneeling between her legs. Both hands rested on her breasts. “When it’s time, you’ll understand how ’tis possible.”