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Slowly, he began to peel her coat from her shoulders, sliding it down her arms to free it from her body. He laid it on the ground at their feet. Then he turned to his own buttons and began to unfasten them, one by one, as he watched her watching his every move. He laid his coat down next to hers.

A late evening sun had broken through the clouds, and the grass in the middle of the keep was warm and soft. From his kneeling position, Will reached up for one of Rose’s hands and tugged her down. “Lay with me,” he said softly. He wanted to hold her, savor her.

“It would be wise to go back to the castle,” she said, but there was little conviction in her words.

“It would,” he agreed, not letting go of her hand and not taking his eyes off her full lips.

“Someone may be missing us.”

“You maybe, not me.” he smiled. “But they won’t come looking for us here."

He pulled harder on her hand.

“Come down here, Rose,” he whispered softly, but it was said as a command. “After everything we have endured, and whatever is to come, we have earned this.” He reached for her other hand and gave her no choice but to follow him down to kneel on the top of their coats. Their heads were level, just inches apart. She was breathing like a frightened doe getting ready to escape.

“No one can see us here,” he assured her. “I just want to touch you.”

He was running his fingers over the backs of her hands as he knelt before her. It started a fierce tingling in his fingertips as if a charge was running between them. He let go of her hands and cupped her elbows instead, then very gently, he pushed her down to lie on his jacket, on her back.

“Close your eyes,” he said, and she did.

For a moment, he didn't touch her. He just stared at her as he sat beside her on the grass. Then, finally, he reached out one hand and ran a finger across her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her brow. Her skin felt like velvet as he trailed that finger down the sides of her eyes, her cheeks, and jaw. He traced the outline of her lips.

He knew he was playing with fire and that he should stop and send her back inside,but not yet,he told himself.Not yet.

He continued his exploration, moving down the side of her neck to the bare skin at the base of her throat. He had touched her there so many times, but every time felt different; it created different sensations inside him, like now. It was as if the sensation of his skin touching hers set off a chain reaction in his body that pushed through his heart, limbs, and very core. It was happening all by itself, even though Rose was not moving, not responding. He feasted his eyes on the top of her bosom above her bodice. His fingers followed his eyes in tracing the contours of her body there. The bodice was snugly fitted, intensifying her curves. He took a deep breath to calm the tumult inside him. When he looked back at her face, her eyes were open. She was watching him without saying a word.

Above their heads, the clouds scudded across the sky, and he could hear faint sounds drifting up from the town and the port. But inside this rounded compound, they were completely alone, shielded, cocooned. Will held her gaze with his as he reached down to her ankles. He pulled the hem of her dress up to her calves, exposing her stockinged feet and her leather half boots. Without asking her permission, he began to unlace the boots. He loosened the tongues enough to slide her feet out of them. He cupped one ankle and heel through her stockings, transferring his gaze there now. She had such dainty feet. He ran his thumb over the top of her foot as he held it, and she flinched.

“Ticklish,” he chuckled, looking back up to her face. “Still ticklish!” He remembered how he used to pin her down and tickle her until she screamed for mercy. He had forgotten that. By the look in her eyes now, she had not.

“Shall we see where else you are still ticklish?” He teased her with his trademark devilish grin. She met it with a challenging stare.

“You can try, but I think you will find I grew out of that long ago.” Her words did not match her expression.

It was an invitation Will could not resist.

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow.

He pushed the hem of her dress up to her knees, revealing the lacy fringe of her knee-length drawers. He knew she had always been ticklish at the backs of her knees. He stroked around her stockinged kneecap first, enjoying the silken feel.

“There?” He asked. She shook her head, but her very shapely legs had gone rigid to his touch. Teasingly, he trailed a finger down to the inside of her knee and traced slow circles there.

“Here?"

She shook her head again, but more slowly this time, and then as his fingers tunneled behind her knees to tickle the thinnest skin at the back, she went even more rigid.

“No,” she insisted. “I can't feel a thing.” But he had the distinct impression her teeth were gritted.

“You can feel that,” he laughed at the discovery as he mercilessly feathered his fingers until her composure broke, and she writhed against him to get away. “Alright, alright.” She was laughing now as she tried to grab his hands.

“I knew it. I knew you couldn’t resist me.” He was triumphant, and he kept tickling her until she cried out, and then he rose above her and kissed her, covering her lips with his own to silence the sound.

“Ssssh,” he laughed against her mouth. “Someone will hear.”

He lifted his lips from hers to stare into her eyes, his hand still by her knees.

“I obviously need to explore further,” he half-teased, half-threatened, laying across her legs, holding her down, as he began to slowly move his hand higher, pushing her dress and petticoats upwards and aside as he progressed up her thigh. He moved all five fingers on one hand against the cotton of her drawers on the top of her thigh.


Tags: Roselyn Francis Historical