Alaina stirred in the bed's warm embrace, reaching out for Gareth, but found only empty space beside her. Blinking away sleep, she realised she had drifted off for a while, the sun still high in the sky. With a languid stretch, she rolled out of bed and surveyed Gareth's modest chamber. It was smaller than her own, but impeccably neat. His few possessions included a rugged leather satchel resting beside the fireplace.
As she searched for her clothes, she discovered a beautiful new dress hanging on a rack and a fresh set of undergarments folded neatly on a nearby chest. Gareth must have slipped away while she slept, as there was no trace of his armour or clothing. Her stomach rumbled, and she instinctively placed a hand over it.
A washbasin filled with tepid water and a cloth awaited her on a wooden table, which she used to cleanse the lingering evidence of their passionate encounter. A pleasant soreness reminded her of their intimate union, and she blushed, a grin spreading across her face as she realised she was no longer a maiden. Dressed in the new gown, she took one last look at the rumpled sheets before leaving the room, her smile lingering.
Eager to explore her surroundings, Alaina visited the castle's kitchen rather than request a meal in her chamber. She inquired with a servant for directions and followed his guidance through the hallways, which were narrower than those in Hann Aisle but adorned with exquisite tapestries. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered breathtaking views of the gardens below, where several gardeners tended to the vibrant flora. One of them noticed her gaze, waving and nodding his greeting. She returned the gesture with a warm smile before continuing her quest for the kitchen.
Descending three flights of stairs, she found the air growing colder with each step. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she wished she had brought her woollen shawl and made a mental note to install more braziers for the comfort of the cooks and servants. She couldn't fathom the chill they must endure in winter. Upon reaching the kitchen, a young male cook caught sight of Alaina and stared in awe, his eyes wide with surprise.
"G-ood d-ay, my l-ady." he stammered as he bowed to her. "What b-rings you h-ere?"
"Am I not allowed to roam my own castle?" she replied. The boy immediately turned beet red, fearing that he might have insulted her.
"B-egging your f-orgiveness, my lady. That was not what I meant to s-ay." He dropped his head frantically. "Can I h-elp you with anything?" he stammered further, only peeping up at her for a second.
"Could you ask the cook to prepare me a meal? I would like to eat here," she gestured at the small table and chair beside the wine cellar. The boy nodded his head and ran off to alert the cooks.
While waiting, Alaina sat at the table, picking the wilting flowers in a vase. She looked around the room. It was dull and morbid compared to the castle's upper levels. Evidently, no effort was made to make the area where the servant dwelled look presentable. She frowned and made another mental reminder to spruce up the kitchen, making it at least more bearable on the eyes. She hoped adding more colour would cheer the servants instead of looking at boring y stone walls. The fireplace was also not nearly big enough to warm the room. It needed to expand.
Not long after, the boy returned with a tray of steaming hot soup with porridge. The soup was rich and dense, filled with chopped vegetables and large, juicy poultry pieces. Her stomach rumbled with hunger as she thanked the boy and ravaged her food. Moments later, an older cook peeped into the room; he was a short and burly man with a thick moustache. Sweat prickled his forehead, and his clothes were tattered and stained. He bowed his head when Alaina looked at him.
"Good afternoon, my lady. My name is Bartho. I hope the meal pleases you." He ran his fingers through his hair, almost embarrassed. The food was delicious and wholesome, although it was not the usual meal for nobles. She smiled and thanked him for his food.
"I'm afraid I was caught rather off-guard. I deeply apologise for serving you such a mediocre meal". He sounded sincere and disappointed in himself.
"Not at all, Bartho!" exclaimed Alaina, "it was very delicious. I must also apologise for coming here unannounced". She placed her hand on her chest to offer her apology. It was rare for any noble to walk around in the servant dwellings, but she wanted to build a strong rapport and relationship with them. After too many years wasted in her absence from her kingdom, she promised herself that she would make amends and be a proper duchess. A small part of her was angry at her father for allowing everything to reach this state.
"Oh please, not at all, my lady. You are always welcome in the kitchen," replied Bartho, smiling widely. He took a rag and wiped the beads of sweat from his face.
"Do let me know if you have any needs for the kitchen; I would like to…pick up where my father left off and do some much-needed enhancements". Bartho nodded his thanks.
"Of course, my lady! I will be most grateful". She noticed his eyes twinkle as he excitedly returned to the kitchen after excusing himself. Alaina continued to finish her meal and handed the bowls to a washerwoman, who was also surprised by her presence.
Alaina trodded up the stairs back to her chambers. The sun was setting, so she asked Zora to prepare her bath so she could retire for the night. A silent pang of longing rested in her chest, for she did not hear or see Gareth for the rest of the day, nor did he summon her. She gently touched the wildflowers in the vase, which still looked fresh. She was agitated that he affected her this way. All these new feelings made her anxious and vulnerable, which she disliked the most.
When Zora returned with her bath, she asked if she had seen Gareth.
"Last I saw, he was training with his men in the barracks, my lady", Zora replied. "Is there a message you wish to convey?"
"Oh, no, nothing at all, Zora. Thank you," Alaina spluttered. Nodding and excusing herself, Zora left the room. After Alaina readied herself for bed, she curled under the cold covers, trying to warm herself. She drifted slowly to sleep, longing for Gareth's warm embrace to keep her company through the night. But the bed remained empty. She recalled how the ladies at Hann Aisle Castle gossiped about men losing interest in women once they had bedded them. She shuddered at the thought of being discarded, like how the prince discarded that woman at the staircase after having his way with her. She tried desperately to push the negative thoughts away and fell asleep.
Gareth wrestled with the temptation to visit Alaina in her bed chamber since their passionate union. The thought of taking her on the staircase, where he had spotted her on her way to the kitchen, taunted him. His body yearned for her touch more than he had ever experienced. He regretted acting so impulsively, surrendering to his desires and claiming her maidenhood before their wedding. He never saw himself as a barbarian but felt he had been one this time.
Alaina was no ordinary woman; she was his world, the driving force behind his ambition. He had sought her admiration, respect, and recognition as her equal. Yet now, he was consumed by worry; what if she regretted their intimate encounter? What if she resented him for taking advantage of her vulnerability amidst the chaos that had upended her life?
Though he tried to distract himself with sparring in the training barracks, memories of Alaina's warm skin against his own haunted him. Her moans of pleasure still echoed in his ears, making them burn. It had been nearly unbearable to leave her sleeping form that afternoon. She looked divine, her fiery red hair cascading across the soft, white pillows like molten flames upon the clouds. Unable to bear waking her, he had tiptoed around the room, cursing his heavy footsteps each time a floorboard creaked under his weight.
Her tender, pink lips, slightly parted, beckoned him to kiss them. Those lips, he knew, would be his undoing. Her slow, steady breathing caused her breasts to rise and fall beneath the quilt, breasts he had tenderly cradled during their passionate embrace. Her slender, freckled arm draped across her waist, highlighting the curve of her hips—hips that had undulated beneath him, pleading for more. As he watched her sleep so serenely, a wicked part of him yearned to take her once more and listen to her ecstasy's sweet, intoxicating sounds.
Despite washing his beard numerous times, he still smelled her sex, which lingered on every strand. Whenever he had a moment alone with his thoughts, he rubbed his beard just to smell her and, simultaneously, tried to suppress his growing erection. You loathsome oaf! He would chastise himself whenever his mind flooded with lewd thoughts. He felt an uncontrollable desire to be with her, a desire that crumbled even his own willpower.
It was a grave mistake, he sighed. He had emptied his seed into her. She would be shamed for losing her maidenhood before marriage. She would never forgive him for the wrath that she would receive from other nobles or her people. The names she would be called! His face paled at the realisation of his grave error. He would have to avoid her at all costs. He would have to keep himself occupied so he would not barge into her room and make love to her again if his body willed it. He knew his resolve would crumble should he see her again, and she was worth more than that. As much as it pained him to distance himself, he knew he would have to do it. For her sake and his own. For their future.
He knew the servants would have caught wind of their coupling, and they would spread the word through the castle faster than wildfire. He had sworn to protect her all those years ago. This time, the one he would have to protect her from was himself.
After bathing and washing away the grime and sweat from his training, Gareth lay in his now achingly empty bed and closed his eyes. The sheets had not yet been changed, and her scent enveloped him like a veil of wildflowers. Within moments, his arousal stirred and throbbed at the memories of their passion, causing the sheet to tent over his hips teasingly. He turned over, hoping to ease the ache between his legs, but felt a damp spot against his knee. The dampness was a remnant of their combined climaxes, and it made him grunt in longing as memories flooded his mind. His erection pulsed with frustration.
He turned to face the ceiling, his hand instinctively reaching down to grasp his hardness, allowing himself swift, urgent strokes. He moaned softly, envisioning Alaina's body atop his as he pleasured himself. He recalled how snug she felt when her body welcomed him into her depths. How her muscles coaxed his length with each wave of her climax, propelling him over the edge and into the euphoria of his own release. His body convulsed as hot streams stained the sheet above him. Grunting, he rose from the bed and wiped his hand on his discarded clothes on the floor.
"Let this quench the desire for now," he told himself irritably as he lay back in bed and gradually drifted off to sleep, vowing to maintain distance until he could regain control over his urges.
A week had passed since Alaina last saw Gareth, and it began to worry her. Was he having second thoughts? Her days were filled with walking around the castle, talking to the servants or scowling over the castle ledger, and looking at the accounts and finances. Occasionally, she would meet travelling merchants or vendors who came to showcase their wares, hoping that she would use their services for the wedding. She had grown more familiar with the castle's layout as she tried memorising where all the essential rooms were. She found the library the day before. It was humble in size but contained many rare books and encyclopedias that Hann Aisle never had.
Alaina knew her father would arrive in Hann Aisle in a day or two, and she hoped he had a smooth and safe journey back. As far as she knew, the King was a patient and kind man. However, withdrawing her hand in marriage to wed a northerner was an insult of the highest order. She also knew Prince Sanson would not relinquish his claim without a fight. He already felt that he possessed Alaina and would vehemently oppose the annulment of their engagement. It would be a miracle if this situation didn't escalate into war.
The thought of innocent men dying for her sake made her grimace. Alaina's heart ached at the idea of a war that could lead to the northerners, including Gareth, being vastly outnumbered. The notion of losing him sent a searing pain through her heart. She clutched her chest and closed her eyes, attempting to erase the vivid images of bloodshed that invaded her mind.
Determined to prevent such a tragedy, Alaina resolved to speak with Gareth and tell him their marriage was a grave mistake. She believed she should continue her marriage to Prince Sanson, thus avoiding a war. Even if his father chose not to aid Dunkeld after the marriage, peace would be maintained. If his father decided to annul the wedding, it would be their choice, and she could be free to marry Gareth without causing bloodshed.
But would Gareth still want her then? Could she bear to even look at him after being defiled by the prince? She doubted Gareth would accept her in such a state, nor would she have the heart to be with him. Convincing Sanson to abandon the marriage seemed impossible, as he craved Alaina with an obscene intensity.
Alaina felt her anguish engulf her, a storm of emotions tearing at her soul. The unbearable possibilities looming before her left her feeling lost and despondent. She knew she would have to make an excruciating choice: convince Gareth that she wanted to be with Prince Sanson instead of him. Though the rest of her life would be steeped in misery, at least there would be no bloodshed for her sake. At least Gareth would be safe.
Alaina burst through her doors and ran through the castle corridors. She asked a servant along the way where the barracks were and treaded off in the direction she was given. Since the barracks were quite a distance away from the main castle grounds, she summoned her horse and rode there with haste.
The training barracks were more imposing than Alaina had anticipated. It was a colossal, fortress-like structure constructed from massive, weathered grey stone blocks, each carefully fitted together to form a formidable barrier. The stones bore the scars of time, with moss and poison ivy creeping up one of the facades, adding vibrant shades of green that softened the otherwise austere appearance.
The Dunkeld crest flew majestically on tapestries that adorned the exterior walls, snapping and fluttering defiantly against their wooden poles as the strong wind whipped through the air. The barracks' high, crenellated battlements cast long shadows across the courtyard, hinting at the disciplined warriors who honed their skills within its walls.
As Alaina approached, she heard the distant sounds of metal clashing and gruff, masculine cheers echoing through the air, drawing her ever closer. Joy, her horse, trotted steadily toward the fortress door, unperturbed by the vigorous activity and the cacophony of grunts emanating from the northern men as they engaged in combat training.
Entering the courtyard, Alaina was met with numerous sparring circles, each with warriors engaged in fierce duels, their bodies glistening with sweat as they tested their strength and agility. Training dummies lined one side of the yard, each bearing the marks of countless practice sessions. Weapon racks stood nearby, stocked with an impressive array of swords, shields, and other tools of war.
As Alaina took in the scene before her, she marvelled at the dedication and skill of the warriors training within the fortress-like barracks.
Despite the biting cold wind, most northern men were topless, their chiselled bodies gleaming with sweat as they trained. Their skin was smeared with mud, accentuating the well-defined contours of their muscles, which rippled with every powerful movement. Their diverse appearances showcased the range of warriors present; many sported long, braided hair and beards, while others kept their hair closely shaven. Each man bore the marks of a seasoned warrior, with scars and battle-worn expressions that spoke of countless encounters and hard-fought victories.
Alaina estimated there were around two hundred men, some sparring in groups of four and others facing off in pairs. They wielded axes or swords with deft precision, grunting upon impact as they honed their skills. A smaller group of northern men sat in the shadows, taking a much-needed break to rest and hydrate with their waterskins. Another group laboured in the nearby forge, sparks flying as they sharpened their weapons and mended armour.
As she scanned the crowd of warriors, searching for Gareth, a massive northern man with a striking scar across his right eye caught her attention. Even while she was mounted on her horse, he towered over her, his enormous, veiny biceps nearly the size of her face. He gripped his axe tightly, his calloused hands evident of years of hard training, and strode purposefully toward her.
Fear and panic washed over Alaina as the formidable warrior approached. Her face drained of blood, turning pale, as she saw his imposing figure. The man's muscled body was streaked with mud, which obscured an array of healed battle wounds that crisscrossed his broad chest. Each step he took emphasised these northern warriors' raw power and ferocity.
"Wait! Stop!" she cried, her voice cracking with fear as she held her hands up defensively. Coming here was a mistake, she thought. This man could easily crush her skull with just his thumb. She pulled Joy's reins and tried to back away, but he managed to swiftly grab the reins from her, pulling her deeper into the barrack training grounds.
"I'm here to see Gareth", Alaina tried to explain as she was being pulled. The man did not reply but only looked at her and smiled. Her heart started racing inside her chest. If Gareth were not here, she would have no protection against all these northern men. Dread filled her mind at the thought of them taking turns with her. He brought her into an inner cloister of the training barracks; soft white sand lined the floors. Two northern men were fighting bare-handed, surrounded by fifty spectators cheering them on.
"Gareth…" she breathed, relieved to spot him finally. He was engaged in a fierce match with another warrior, their skin slick with sweat as they exchanged powerful blows. Gareth's body was a work of art, like a marble statue of a god brought to life. His broad chest heaved with exertion, and his clenched fists moved with astonishing precision and force. The veins on his biceps bulged, a testament to the raw strength and power coursing through him.
Alaina's mouth fell open in awe at his sheer perfection. His physique seemed capable of moving mountains, yet she remembered the tender, loving touch he had used to explore her body just a few nights before. The sunlight glinted off the chiselled contours of his taut torso as he effortlessly dominated his opponent, each flex and twist a tantalising reminder of their shared passion.
Gareth finally tackled his competitor to the ground, locking his muscular thighs around the man's neck and pinning him into submission. As his opponent tapped his leg three times, signalling defeat, the spectators erupted in cheers, clanging their weapons together in celebration. The towering warrior beside Alaina barked something in their northern language, capturing Gareth's attention.
Gareth grabbed a towel from a nearby rack, wiping the beads of sweat from his face, and looked at Alaina with a smile that made her heart race. A sudden flip in her stomach and a warm blush on her cheeks betrayed her desire for him. Alaina dismounted, hastily smoothing her dress and running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to look presentable, even though she knew that Gareth's affection for her transcended her appearance.
As she approached him, the memory of their passionate encounter sent a thrill down her spine, igniting a longing for his touch that she couldn't ignore. Seeing his powerful, glistening body made her knees weak, and she wondered how she would ever manage to resist the magnetic pull of his embrace.
"Alaina", he smiled; his voice melted her limbs. After days of not seeing him, she was awestruck and fought hard to find the words. He took her hands and kissed her knuckles when she said nothing. Some of the men watching whistled and jeered, but he shot them a murderous glare, shutting them up completely.
"I apologise for the state I am in," he said sheepishly, gesturing to his sweaty and sandy body. His chest muscle twitched as he ran his grimy hand through his hair. Alaina wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
"I was beginning to think you tired of me," she said curtly. His expression changed drastically; his smile turned into a thin line as his eyes frowned.
"How could you say such a thing?" his voice was almost a whisper, coming out hoarse and raspy as though she had burned him. "I have been waiting for you all my life".
His eyes met hers, causing a surge of guilt within her. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, unable to find the right words. Overcome with emotion, she suddenly threw herself at him, pressing her lips to his in a desperate kiss. He was taken aback but quickly reciprocated, his damp body enveloping her passionately. She could feel her dress absorbing his sweat while the gritty sand on his skin scraped against hers.
Their fervent kiss captivated them both, and they nearly failed to notice the cheers and whistles of their audience, who delighted in their public display of affection. Gareth was the first to break away, causing Alaina's lips to tremble at the loss of his touch.
"Not like this," he rasped, his voice strained with desire. "Wait in my chamber. I will return as quickly as possible." Alaina's eyes were still glazed over from their passionate kiss, and all her doubts about his waning interest vanished. Yet she remembered the crucial conversation she needed to have with him, and her heart ached as though pierced by a thousand daggers.
Tears began to well in her eyes, but she fought to hold them back. "I'll wait for you," was all she managed to say, her voice trembling. Puzzlement crossed Gareth's face as he tilted his head to the side, trying to understand her emotional state. Alaina quickly turned around, signalling for someone to bring her horse. The tears that threatened to spill grew more insistent as she mounted Joy.
With a swift kick of the stirrups, she urged the horse forward, moving at a rapid pace. Be strong, Alaina, she told herself, knowing that what lay ahead would test the strength of her heart.
Alaina leapt off her horse upon reaching the castle and rushed through the doors, salty tears streaming down her cheeks. Desperate to erase any trace of her despair, she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand, but her attempts were futile. Her heart felt as if it were being crushed within her chest, and anguished sobs wracked her body.
As her breath grew short and her lungs strained, Alaina slowed, taking unsteady steps toward Gareth's chamber. The moment she entered, the sight of the bed where they had once lain together, entwined in passion, beckoned her. She sank onto its edge, her body convulsing as she hugged herself tightly, attempting to find comfort in her embrace.
The mere thought of being apart from Gareth was unbearable. Though it had been less than two weeks since their first encounter, it felt as though an unbreakable bond had formed between them, their lives intertwined like the threads of a woven tapestry. She had been irresistibly drawn to him from the moment she laid eyes on him, like a moth to a flame. Her very soul ached for him in ways she could not comprehend. How could he have such an effect on her? What mysterious force had brought them together only to threaten to tear them apart?
Yet, deep down, Alaina knew the sacrifice she would have to make for the sake of Gareth, Dunkeld, and their future. She would have to marry the prince to prevent bloodshed and protect those she loved, even if it meant forsaking her own happiness. The weight of this decision pressed down on her heart, suffocating her with feelings of helplessness and grief. She longed for the freedom to follow her heart, but she knew all too well the heavy price of such a choice.
Gareth gently pushed open the door to his chamber, only to find Alaina sitting on the bed, looking dishevelled and distraught. He hesitated for a moment, taking in her tear-streaked face and the obvious pain etched in her expression. She tried to sit up straighter, hastily wiping away the remnants of her tears. A mixture of concern and confusion washed over him as he tried to understand what could have caused her distress.
He continued to study her as he carefully removed his dirt-laden boots and belt, the silence between them growing heavier with each passing second. He reached for the soaked towel draped over his shoulders, wiping away the sweat that coated his skin. Methodically, he patted his arms, chest, and legs dry, his gaze never leaving Alaina.
His brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the cause of her emotional state, his heart aching at the sight of her anguish. He longed to comfort and hold her close and reassure her that everything would be alright, but he was at a loss, unsure of what had brought her to such despair. He wondered if she was feeling regret or if she was reconsidering their engagement. The silence that filled the room felt suffocating, leaving Alaina feeling as if she were drowning in her sorrow.
Stealing a glance at him from under her long lashes, her breath caught in her lungs as she took in his breathtaking sight. Despite the confusion that clouded his features, Gareth's concern for her was evident, only adding to the turmoil brewing within her heart.
"I am sorry for interrupting your training," Alaina said finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. "It will not happen again". During her time at Hann Aisle, she was taught that women were never allowed near the barracks nor to delve into their partners' matters.
Gareth silently walked over to her and reached out to cup her face but stopped when a servant brought his bath into the room for him. Upon seeing Alaina on Gareth's bed, the servant apologised timidly for intruding and left the room. Once he was gone, Gareth cupped her face again, rubbing his coarse thumb over her tear-stained cheek.
"Never apologise for wanting to see me, no matter what I am doing." his voice was like a gentle caress of plush velvet. "Why are you crying?" he asked with the gentlest voice. Alaina closed her eyes and leaned into his warm hand, feeling the tears in her eyes again.
"There is something I should like to discuss with you", she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. She would start crying again if she opened them and saw his pained face.
"Come, bathe with me," he suggested, reaching for her hand and pulling her to her feet. It amazed her that a man with so much strength, enough to take down another his size, could handle her with the tenderness of one cradling a delicate rose. She stood before him, silent and vulnerable.
He held her waist and turned her around to undress her. As he brushed her hair over her shoulder, his gaze fell upon the scar that stretched along her spine. She felt him flinch, but he immediately leaned forward and tenderly kissed her shoulder, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. His thumb grazed lazily over the raised lines of her scar, and Alaina stiffened, anxiety gripping her heart. What if he found her repulsive? What if the scars were too much of a blemish for him to bear? She longed to turn around and hide her back from him, but he held her in place.
"Allow me," he whispered in her ear, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking it gently. A shiver rippled through her body as the unfamiliar sensation washed over her. He untied the string of her dress and smoothly slipped it down her shoulders, his eyes never leaving her back as more of her scar became visible. Allowing the dress to fall at her waist, he raised her arms and pressed tender kisses along them.
"I have missed you," he murmured longingly, his lips brushing against her skin. He pulled her brassiere over her head and let it fall to the ground. Reaching around her, he cupped her breasts in his warm hands and kneaded the sensitive flesh.
"You did not come to me," she whimpered, revelling in the sensation of his hands on her body. Every nerve felt like it was standing on the edge, and a low moan escaped her lips as pleasure coursed through her.
"And I regret not doing so," he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. Gareth lowered himself to pull her dress and undergarment down to her ankles, showering her scar with tender kisses. Instinctively feeling embarrassed about her marred back, she turned around, dropping her head.
"It is hideous. I'm sorry," her voice sounded strained and defeated. After years of enduring Sanson's insults, she had come to believe that her scar was genuinely disgusting. How could anyone accept her imperfections? How could a man as handsome and magnificent as Gareth even desire her? Gareth pulled her face toward his and kissed her deeply. She felt him shudder, and his desire hardened against her soft stomach.
"You are perfect," he sighed into her mouth. She felt her embarrassment and self-doubt slowly trickle away at his affirmation.
Taking a step back, Gareth began to remove his pants. Alaina reached forward and stopped his hands, pushing them away. With trembling fingers, she untied the drawstring holding his pants together, all while pressing tender kisses against his chest. She tasted the saltiness of his sweat and the gritty texture of the sand that still clung to his body. As she lowered herself, she pulled his pants down over his large, muscled hips and thighs, continuing to trail kisses down his torso.
He moaned loudly when she reached the sensitive skin surrounding his aroused manhood, and she felt him tremble as she pressed her lips to the coarse hair at his groin. His scent was intoxicating, a potent blend of musk and virility that left her yearning for more. He threaded his fingers through her hair and nudged her closer to his hardness. When her lips made contact with the velvety skin of his shaft, his legs nearly buckled under him.
Allowing her lips to part, she let her tongue explore the full length of his arousal, relishing in his taste and feel.
Unable to withstand the exquisite sensations any longer, he pulled her face up to his and claimed her lips with a passionate intensity that left them both breathless.
"I burn for you, Alaina," Gareth's voice emerged hoarse and filled with desire. Alaina whimpered and clung to him, their passion drowning out other thoughts or intentions. The bath they had planned was entirely forgotten as he lifted her onto the bed, placing her on the luxuriously soft sheets.
He began to kiss her neck while his hand ventured between her thighs, teasing the sensitive, slick folds of her core. His lips trailed along her collarbone and chest, pausing at the taut peak of her breast. He took the tender bud into his mouth, suckling it with fervour. Alaina's body writhed beneath him, caught in the throes of ecstasy.
Gareth continued to kiss a trail down her body, stopping just above her heated centre. He parted her thighs and positioned himself between them, his face hovering just above her glistening arousal. Using his tongue, he stroked her most sensitive spot, eliciting a shudder from Alaina. Her body convulsed uncontrollably as sounds of pleasure escaped her lips.
He held her in place with powerful arms wrapped around her slender thighs, feasting on her with voracious hunger. She crossed her legs around his head, urging him deeper into her. He breathed in her intoxicating scent and quickened the pace of his tongue.
"Gareth, don't stop…" Her moans filled his ears, spurring him on. He wanted to consume her entirely until she was utterly spent. His tongue's slick, wet sounds against her silky folds sent shivers down her spine. She gasped as he slipped two fingers inside her, thrusting rhythmically while his tongue continued its relentless assault. Her breath hitched in her chest as her body began to tighten.
"Gareth…" she moaned, her fingers gripping his hair. In an instant, she was swept away by a wave of ecstasy, crying out his name. The intensity of her climax washed over her in undulating waves. But he did not relent; he drank in her essence like a man dying of thirst, and only she could satiate him. Another wave built within her, a volcano on the brink of eruption, and she exploded once more. Her body convulsed and writhed against his eager mouth.
"I crave you," she murmured ardently, drawing his face to hers. Arching her body against him like a temptress, his eyes became hazy with desire. He aligned his pulsating arousal between her thighs and glided it along her slick folds, ensuring it was thoroughly coated with her sweet essence.
"I need you, Gareth," her voice quivered on the brink of tears as she pleaded. Only she understood the dual meaning of her words; she needed him not only to satisfy the primal hunger of their bodies but also to fulfil the desires of her heart and soul. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated abandoning her mission to drive him away, but could she be so selfish? How could she risk the welfare of the entire duchy for her own sake? How could she risk his life?
He plunged his trembling manhood into her in a sudden, fluid motion. Every thought vanished as he filled her entirely. He was not slow and gentle as before; he was searing and ravenous, unable to control himself, slamming into her with fervour and causing the bed to shudder beneath them. Yet, she felt no pain this time, as her body was already primed to receive him. The bed continued to creak and sway with their heated coupling. Each thrust seemed to delve deeper and deeper, reaching her very core. Her nails dug into his back as he claimed her lips in a fiery kiss. She tasted her own sweetness mingling with his breath as his tongue explored her mouth.
Seizing both her legs, he lifted them and pressed them against her. He penetrated her deeper than she thought possible, pushing her to the brink of another explosive climax. The tightening of her inner walls spurred towards his own peak. His thrusts grew urgent and insistent, driven by a primal need. As her body shuddered with pleasure, he released a deep, guttural moan, signalling his release. Hot, viscous essence spilled into her depths. Gradually, he slowed his movements, allowing himself to empty within her. His breathing was ragged and harsh as he collapsed on her, their bodies slick with sweat. She felt the pounding of his heart against his chest, the heat of their bodies mingling in perfect harmony. With trembling fingers, she cradled his face and tenderly kissed his temples.
"I suppose I'll have to summon the servants to warm up our bath again," he chuckled. The playful tone in his voice made her heart swell, yet the looming dread of the conversation she needed to have with him cast a shadow over her happiness.