Briar started to struggle, before she remembered she was supposed to be compliant. Though not too compliant, not too easily won, she reminded herself. Men appreciated the hunt, the chase, and the capture, in that order. Briar rested her hands against Ivo’s mailed chest, feeling his heat even through the layers of clothing and the woven iron rings of his armor. He seemed almost a stranger. It was his hair, she told herself. She had dreamed so often of that wild hair, and her fingers in it, that its lack unsettled her.
“You spoke of my bruised face, demoiselle. A man struck me with the flat of his sword. If it had been the edge I would not be standing here now.”
The sun was no longer warm enough; somehow the chill wind had seeped through the wall. Briar stared up at him, and knew her own face was white. “But he did not,” she said, and her voice shook only slightly. “You are whole.”
“Your prayers kept me safe, Briar,” he said softly, and stroked his rough finger down her soft cheek.
“Then I am glad, Ivo.” She meant it. Slowly, carefully, as if such a thing were entirely foreign to her nature, Briar leaned into him and rested her cheek against his heart. It beat hard and strong. The sound calmed her, and she did not protest as he tightened his own hold about her.
He desired her. That part of him she remembered so well was nudging her belly. She ignored it. She had never realized before just how comforting a man’s arms could be.
And yet Ivo de Vessey is a man, the same as any other. Why should he be different?
His breath fanned her temple, his lips brushed her skin, gentle but promising more. Instinctively, Briar lifted her face to him, and his mouth closed on hers.
He stilled, as if taken by surprise, and then with a low groan he returned her kiss, his mouth no longer tender, but eager and hot. Ah, here was something she understood! Lust, desire, these things she could deal with. Relieved, Briar met his eagerness with enthusiasm. Her tongue tangled with his, and when he slid his hands down to cup her bottom, bringing her closer to the point of his need, she did not demur, but wriggled against him.
It was Ivo who broke the kiss. His breath was warm against her cheek; he was panting as if he had run a race.
“I will not take you against the wall, Briar. Is that what you want?”
Surprised, she looked up at him, and was at once captured by that dark, brooding gaze. She licked her lips, and watched him follow the movement with rapt attention. Confidence returned to her, and Briar smiled.
“I do not know whether such a thing would be flattering or not, Ivo. But you are right, ’tis not what I want.”
“Then you had best not push me too far, demoiselle. I think you are not accustomed to the ways of men, though you pretend.”
Annoyed, she tried to pull away from him, but he held her easily, allowing her only to lean back in his arms. Laughter warmed his smile and his eyes, as if he thought her struggles comical. Briar wanted to slap him and demand he release her, but she knew to do either would be to undo all the magic she had worked so far.
“And you think you are accustomed to the ways of women, de Vessey? You could no more see into a woman’s head than weave a stocking!”
To her surprise he didn’t bristle, he laughed. “I can read some women, but you are different, Briar. Have you ever loved a man, demoiselle?”
The blunt question gave her pause. Briar hesitated, and then decided upon honesty. “Nay, apart from my father, I have loved no man.”
Ivo’s laughter was gone. “I will be the first, then.”
“Jesu! You are arrogant, Sir Disgraced Knight. I do not love you, why should I? What do you have, that would tempt me to love such as you?”
He ran his hand gently through her hair, his gloved fingers strangely stiff and unresponsive. “I can give you safety, Briar. A place to come and know you will not be harmed or hurt, where you no longer need to be the brave one. A place where you need not be alone.”
She went cold, suddenly afraid of his words, and the feelings they caused to well up within her. What he had described was a place she longed for with all her heart, but she had not known it, until now. How could he know? Was he truly able to see into her mind?
And what if he abandons you once he has had his fill of you? Be very careful how much you give him. Step back. Keep your distance. He might sink deep but you must not.
Briar made herself smile—one of Anna’s teasing smiles.
“I ask only one thing of you, Ivo.”
He was watching her intently. “And what is that, demoiselle?”
“That you do not cut your hair again. I prefer it the way it was.”
He stared at her a moment, totally blank, and then he threw back his head and laughed loudly.
“I will grow my hair to my toes, then, Briar, before I cut it again.” He spoke at last, humor gleaming in his eyes. “Does that please you?”
She smiled. “Aye, it does. Do you seek to please me, Ivo?”