Castle of Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

obey
me, I will protect you.”
    The bed was so narrow that when he stretched
out beside her he was in fact lying partly on top of her, with his
manhood resting against her inner thigh. His fingers teased at her
nipple, sending a rush of unwanted warmth through her veins. When
she tried to get away from his hand she only succeeded in moving
closer to him. He began to kiss her. She knew instinctively that he
was trying hard to restrain himself, to be gentle, as he had
promised. She was grateful for that much. She closed her eyes tight
and opened her mouth to his thrusting tongue.
    His fingers continued working their mischief
on her nipple. Branwen raised her free hand, the one that wasn’t
squeezed between their bodies. She had to get his fingers away from
her breast. But when she reached for his hand it was no longer
there, it was moving across her abdomen and pressing into the dark
hair between her thighs. Branwen whimpered in fear, but instead of
trying to stop his remarkably gentle assault she rested her hand on
his shoulder. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat.
    “Open your legs to me, my lady.” His rough
whisper was triumphant. An instant later he fastened his mouth on
her breast.
    With a sound that was half sob of despair and
half sigh of resignation Branwen obeyed him. Her hand, which had
been on his shoulder, crept upward to hold his head more securely
against her aching breast and she shifted her legs. His fingers
probed lower.
    Tears trickled from beneath her closed lids.
If this man had come to Afoncaer in a peaceful way, if he had sworn
loyalty to her grandfather and then asked for her hand with open
honesty, and if her father and grandfather had approved, she might
well have accepted him without complaint. He was not physically
repulsive, and he was trying hard not to frighten or hurt her.
Under other circumstances his kindness toward her would have
encouraged her to accept his lovemaking with pleasure, and might
have made her love him before long.
    But the man now showering kisses upon her
bosom and abdomen and thighs was the same man who was responsible
for the deaths of all her family, the man who had slain her father
in a cowardly act. Even as her awakening body responded to his
caresses she hated him for what he had done, and hated herself
still more for enjoying what he was doing to her. The tears flowed
freely as she lay trembling beneath his hard body.
    “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice slightly
slurred. “I’ll kiss your tears away.” Very slowly he sprinkled a
row of kisses across each of her cheeks. The tears kept coming.
    He put a hand on each of her thighs and
gently pulled them apart. She tried to resist at first, then gave
up. There was no point in fighting him now. Her plan had not
worked, and if she angered him he would surely be rough with her
and hurt her. She could tell by his slow, careful speech and by his
deliberate, controlled movements that he was having difficulty
restraining his passion. He had been thoughtful of her so far. If
she did not struggle he would have no reason to be violent.
    “Only a moment more,” he said, kneeling
between her legs, “and I shall be Lord of Afoncaer in truth.”
    She felt his manhood pushing at her, then
felt his full weight on top of her as he took her mouth in a deep,
demanding kiss that would surely stifle any outcry she might make
at his triumphant possession of her. He removed his mouth from hers
to take a long, tortured breath. The weight of his body increased.
He laid his head on her shoulder and Branwen decided he wanted to
hear her cry out. She stiffened, expecting him to drive into her,
fearing that intrusion, yet almost welcoming it.
    The pressure between her thighs diminished.
Sir Edouard took another deep breath and lay still on top of
her.
    “My lord?” Branwen’s arms had been around his
waist. She moved them upward to his broad shoulders and pushed at
him. He was much too heavy for her slender body to bear his