Medieval 03 - Enchanted

pink buds waiting onlyfor the dewy moisture of his tongue to complete their
perfection.
    Without knowing, without thinking, Simon lowered
his head to Ariane. Her breasts knew the caress of his forehead,
his cheek, his lips. Then his mouth parted and his tongue touched
one delicate bud.
    She tasted of roses.
    With a soundless groan Simon traced the tip of
Ariane’s breast, savoring her heat and changing textures with
his tongue.
    “Silk,” he whispered, drawing his
tongue over the pale swell of her breast.
    Ariane murmured and shifted. The motion brought an
erect nipple against his lips.
    “Velvet,” he breathed, tasting
lightly.
    She arched as though caught within a sensual dream.
Her taut, pink nipple rubbed along his lips.
    “I cannot bear it,” Simon said in a low
voice.
    He took Ariane into his mouth and loved her as he
had wanted to do since the first moment he had seen her standing
proud and frightened, waiting for a man she had never met to claim
her body for his bed and her womb for his heirs.
    The sultry pleasure of Simon’s mouth
quickened Ariane’s heartbeat. With a dreamy murmur, she drew
up one knee.
    Or had his hand slid beneath her knee, raising and
opening her as a lover would?
    No. I am a healer, not a
lover .
    Then I should heal her. All of
her .
    But —
    The passionate part of Simon overrode the caution
he had learned at such great cost.
    Isn’t that what
Cassandra said? Every bit of Ariane’s skin must know the
healing kiss of the balm .
    That was true enough. Cassandra had repeated the
warning more than once, as though the balm were the most important
part of the healing ritual.
    Can I trust myself to touch
her so intimately ?
    And not take her .
    Merciful God. Is it
possible ?
    Simon closed his eyes and forced himself not to
move, for he couldn’t say whether his next motion would have
been toward or away from Ariane.
    And if it were toward, he wasn’t certain
where healing would stop and loving would begin.
    “Nightingale,” Simon said in a ragged
voice. “If only you were awake.”
    Ariane made a low, anxious sound. The line of her
body became less relaxed. Her legs moved restlessly, as though she
were trying to run after something but found herself hopelessly
mired. One arm thrashed out, bumping into Simon’s thigh.
    As soon as she felt his muscular presence, she let
out a long breath and became calmer. Very shortly her hand relaxed
and slid from his thigh to the bed cover, but the back of her
fingers remained pressed against him.
    Nor was the contact accidental, for when Simon
eased away, Ariane’s hand soon sought out the timeless
reassurance of flesh against flesh.
    His flesh.
    Her desire.
    “Was I right about that, nightingale?”
Simon whispered. “Did you look at me with more favor and less
disgust than you looked at other men?”
    No answer came save that of Ariane’s hand
pressed against Simon’s thigh.
    “And desire,” he said, bending down to
Ariane once more. “Did I see it in you? Did I taste it in
your kisses?”
    Simon ran his strong hands down Ariane’s body
from breasts to the dark triangle he wanted more than he wanted to
breathe. The perfume of balm spread in the wake of his palms.
    “When you first saw me, your eyes
widened,” Simon said. “Was that less than a month ago?
By the saints, itseems a lifetime. You
belonged to another, then. I could scarcely allow myself to look at
you.”
    Simon’s palm shaped the back of
Ariane’s flexed leg, massaging in balm and revealing more of
her beauty with every slow pressure of his hand.
    “The setting sun struck amethyst fire from
your eyes,” he whispered. “And your mouth…Dear
God, the sight of your tongue sliding along your lower lip nearly
made me spill my seed.”
    A shudder ripped through Simon as he remembered.
And remembering, he pressed small kisses beneath Ariane’s
breasts, over her belly, lingering to test the sweet dimple of her
navel with his tongue.
    “I didn’t want to desire any
woman,” Simon whispered. “Not like this. Not like a
brand burning below my belly.”
    Simon’s warm breath washed over
Ariane’s skin while his hands and mouth continued caressing
her, healer and lover combined.
    “I saw the quickening of your pulse whenever
I approached. It could have been fear, but whenever you thought I
wouldn’t know, you watched me.”
    His hand slid down Ariane’s body until at
last he felt the dense, sensuous triangle of hair pressing against
his palm. He rubbed as