The Savage and the Saint Read online

  The laughter from the crowd was contagious, floating on the cool breeze like a sickness. I caught it with a smile, never happier to be inflicted. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed, couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled. It had been so long.

  There wasn't much to be happy about where I'd been, but where I was headed … I hoped happiness resided there. I hoped it'd be another story, a better story. One filled with missed laughter and more smiles.

  As the tale came to a close, sleepiness found me resting my head upon his shoulder, my droopy eyes fighting in earnest to stay open and watch the others dance and chant around the fire. But the weight of my lids proved too heavy, fluttering when a weakened pile of wood caved in, sending another swarm of hissing fireflies up into the star-encrusted sky. And I finally shut my tired eyes, dreaming of better times, needful forbidden touches, and deep dark eyes the color of molasses.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning found me in the same sweaty state, a new shame surfacing.

  He had carried me back to the tent and lain with me once again—a man that wasn't my husband, a man to whom I was quickly becoming accustomed.

  It wasn't right.

  Neither was sitting on his lap.

  Nor was enjoying it as much as I did.

  I could feel his heat against my back, how he stirred just before rousing and stretching right behind me, the weight of his stare heavy on my shoulders. I debated playing possum, not wanting to tempt a debacle such as the one the other morning. However, my curiosity got the better of me and I craned my neck towards him, my eyes locking with his.

  He grunted what I assumed was an actual word that I just didn't understand. I only looked at him, afraid to try and answer until his arm rested over my thigh and he tugged on the front of my night dress. "Go."

  It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, that he was actually repeating one of the words I had used when trying to explain my need to relieve myself. A smile broke out across my face once I did. His fingers released my dress to trace the gentle curve of my lips. My smile slowly faded as he leaned forward and nudged my nose with his, the very tip of his tongue wetting his lips.

  Turning my head away, I nodded in response, sitting up when he attempted to turn my chin.

  "Yes. Go."

  My denial of his affections perturbed him, and he stood with a huff. I stared dumbly at his offered hand before taking it, allowing him to help me up and then pull me along as he liked to do. It was the least I could offer since he was trying to be civil.

  The sun was just rising over the top of a snowy white mountain. I longed to be there, certain it would feel better than the discomfort of this blasted heat. At least in the cold you were more inclined to cover up than you were to run around in damn near nothing. For as long as I lived I would never be comfortable with the amount of skin these people deemed proper enough to show.

  There was more than one occasion where I'd come close to seeing his manhood. He was careless when it came to modesty, always squatting, running or simply allowing the cloth to flap in the wind.

  I was finding it increasingly difficult not to look at him. The shape of his muscles and the color of his skin drew the eye, made my belly feel all sorts of funny, and caused my head to spin. It was unnerving the way the string holding up the cloth hung so low, parting at his narrow hips and displaying the well-worked muscles of his thighs. They jumped with every movement, hardening and then relaxing with every long stride.

  I’d never taken such notice of John's muscles. There really wasn't much to notice in the first place. He had never walked around that exposed, and I rarely saw him naked since there was no real need.

  The truth of the matter was we hadn’t married for love or lust. We’d married for convenience, had only been intimate when the mood struck him, and always while I had still been in my night dress and he through the flap in his long johns. Want had never been a factor when it came to us, to the life we lived, and I was coming to terms with that.

  I was quick in the woods this time, not needing to ask him to turn around. However, my cheeks ran red as hellfire when I heard him relieving himself not too far off, the sound impossible to ignore as it hit scattered rock and fallen leaves. I waited on the other side of the tree until the sound ceased, jumping when I felt his large palm touch my shoulder.

  John had relieved himself outside often, but never in such proximity. He also had never reached out to me like this man was, not when we were courting, never. We had held no desire to hold hands, and I found it odd that this stranger took every opportunity he could to do just that, to touch me, hold me. It made me feel different—different in a way I couldn't explain since it was a way I'd never felt, not in all my life.

  It was a sensation I found I liked, and that fact made me eager to feel it again. I wanted to take his hand and embrace the warmth that welled in my chest instead of fighting and running away from it as I always had before.

  As the days passed, something inside of me was changing. My resolve was crumbling. Before I knew it I was expecting his hand, and finding it harder and harder to resist when he offered it.

  But I did resist. Lord help me, I resisted it with all my strength.

  Chapter Nine

  Soon we had developed a routine, this savage and I.

  Every morning we'd wake, he'd ask if I had to go, and I would let him lead me. I was getting more and more used to sharing every private moment in his presence, at least that was until the day he tried to get me to bathe.

  Once again I was fighting myself, refusing to let him take my hand, but this time he'd had enough, swooping me up into his arms. Huffing, he carried me in the opposite direction of the camp and further into the woods, revealing the muddy bank of a babbling brook. I heard the rush of gurgling water before I saw it trickling over piles of moss covered rock. I let out a squeal when he dropped my lower half to the ground and I felt the cool mud squish between my toes.

  Relief was short lived once I felt him brush the hair from my neck, his fingers working quickly to undo the buttons on the back of my dress.

  "What do you think you're doing?" I shrieked, stepping away to turn around and face him. His face hardened as he stepped forward to grab me by the shoulders, grunting incomprehensible syllables in my face.

  You stink! You need to bathe! I imagined him saying just before he turned me away from him, gathered my hair to the side, and started again with my buttons.

  Lunging forward, I attempted to wiggle out of his grip but he had too strong of a hold, and instead of letting go, he ripped the remaining buttons, easily tearing the fragile fabric from my body.

  Tears sprung to my eyes as I continued to fight him, my shrill cry ceasing with the shock of his hard chest colliding with my bare back.

  I sucked in a shaky breath as one of his arms wrapped around my waist to hold me still, keeping me flush with the warmth of his smooth skin.

  Rubbing his jaw along mine, he attempted to soothe me with whispers, his free hand coming up to gather the loosened fabric at my shoulder.

  My stomach plummeted to my toes when his lips pressed against my neck, briefly distracting me from his hands as he slid the ruined dress from my body to pool at our feet.

  Palming the flat plain of my stomach, he ran his fingers along the waistline of my undergarment before dipping just under. I grabbed his wrist in haste to stop him from stripping me of all my dignity. I could bathe in these, and usually did seeing as though John had preferred we be most modest and discreet—and at all times.

  With one arm covering my breasts, I used the other to push him away, regret filling me the moment I stepped away from his warmth. I chastised myself for wanting him to fight me like he always had before. I shouldn't have wanted him to grab me, pin me to his chest, and forcefully remove what remained of my clothing. I shouldn't have wanted his hands or his mouth on me, to know what it felt like to give up and give in, take what I actually wanted. I shouldn't have been wondering what he
would feel like buried between my legs, how his strong thighs would feel moving in earnest against mine, but I was. Lord help me, how I constantly daydreamed about it.

  To my dismay, surprisingly, he left me to my own devices, walking right past me and into the water, naked as a jay bird.

  Too caught up in the masculine shape of his backside, I tripped over my own two feet, falling hands first onto a sharp rock.

  My cry alerted him and he came swiftly to my aid, squatting down beside me to bring my hand up to his face. I attempted to pull away, but he held me firm, warning me with a look and a grunt.

  Staying perfectly calm, he studied it before dipping it into the water. He was far from gentle as he washed the shards of rock from my flesh, causing tears to sprout and pained cries to sound.

  Worry pinched his brow. It was the first time I'd seen him show the slightest sign of sympathy, uncertainty filling his eyes just before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

  Shock overtook me and I pulled away from his lips, placing my palms on his shoulders to half-heartedly push him away.

  He complied easily, out of choice I was sure, sitting back on his heels while I caught my breath, my lips burning as hot as the fire in his lidded, blackened irises.

  The distance created brought the palm of my hands to the bulk of muscles protruding from his chest. I dug the pads of my fingers into them, my eyes fluttering down to the hard flesh before he pulled me flush, his mouth crashing back against mine.

  My heart betrayed me as our lips melded in a moment of passion. His large hands splayed out across my bare back, and he held me firmly against him, his heat searing my skin. Warmth flourished inside my belly, my mind hazy, however, astutely aware of how good he felt pressed against my bare flesh. It settled into the pit of my stomach, filtering down to the tips of my toes.

  I could find neither the will nor desire to halt his actions, not even when his tongue breached my lips, the slippery appendage parting and pillaging between them. I tentatively touched it with mine, testing the ardor of his foreign taste before widening my mouth in an unladylike attempt to swallow him whole.

  I moaned as my breasts grazed him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck to better feel him. My sensitive nipples puckered against his smooth, silky skin. The sensation was maddening, forcing my lower half forward to fuse with his.

  The hardened length pulsating against my stomach was the only part of him that felt the least bit familiar. Being recently widowed, I’d been bedded before. But not like this—never like this. Not until him had I ever known the true want of a man, the dizzying effect it could have from simply swallowing his harsh, heavy breaths.

  The far off tinkling of young laughter tore me from the pleasure of our deviance, and on instinct, I turned from his lips. My surprised breath hit his cheek, and I quickly removed my arms from around his neck to push against his chest. He only squeezed me tighter, placing his lips against my temple. I felt him chuckle, the puff of air tickling the fine hairs clinging to my forehead.

  Cheeks blazing with embarrassment, I lifted my gaze to follow his over my shoulder, finding a group of women and children bathing just down the way. They didn't seem to mind us as much as I did them, seeing as they were all already stripped naked, jumping and splashing around in the cool, shallow water.

  Tensing in his arms, I turned back to convey my discomfort with a scowl. It was one thing for a mother to bathe in the presence of her young children, but a whole other to do it in front of a man. I wasn't a jealous woman by nature, never having the chance to be, but by God, if the sin wasn't burrowing its toxic self deep into my chest.

  What hid behind proper clothing was supposed to be sacred between a woman and her husband—not that he belonged to me. It was merely common courtesy. The scene was indecent.

  Brow creased, his gaze dropped from them to me then rose back up to them again.

  Huffing, I attempted to twist out of his arms, but he held me tighter, grunting out in frustration before squatting down to bend me over his shoulder.

  A small scoff escaped from between my lips as he hoisted me up and into the air. I settled on keeping my upper half covered over beating uselessly on his back while he waded further down the creek, my anger multiplying with every step he took.

  I had a mind to let him have it good and proper when he finally set me down, my will only withering once I realized he'd hidden us both behind the shield of a rather large boulder.

  My heart fell a smidgen when he wasted no further time trying to molest me, squatting down to search the bed for a smooth rock to rub along his skin instead.

  It wasn't until he stood that I remembered he had stripped himself of his cloth, the one piece of material sparing my curious eyes from something I couldn’t unsee.

  Dropping my gaze, I stared at my submerged feet, my blood rushing just as rapidly as the rippling current below. I fought a losing battle with myself, letting my eyes roam up the length of his strong legs. I dropped them again once they reached his upper thigh, a flash of darkened skin violating my periphery.

  The plunks of his feet hitting the water overpowered the beat of my heart as he moved closer, fairly warning me with every heavy step he took. Mouth dropping open, I let out a held breath, struggling to keep my gaze averted as he came into view.

  I flinched at the shock of cold that skimmed my skin, my attention turning to where he rubbed the rock gingerly up and down my arm. My discomfort was eased with the warm palm of his hand, how it followed closely after, chasing every last shiver away.

  The steady breeze blowing through the trees hindered all his attempts to keep me warm. I had the strong urge to wrap my arms around his waist and pull myself against his heat, but turned from it instead.

  Could I ever let this happen between us? Did I want this life?

  Living this way wasn't something I had ever considered. If I had the choice to stay with him, would I?

  How could I not?

  Forging ahead upstream, I ignored his baritone bark, drowned by the laughter and splashes of the children.

  The muddy bank sucked at my feet in an attempt to slow me down, but I persevered, only slipping once before stepping into the waist of my ruined dress.

  Pulling the torn fabric up my legs, I sheathed each arm in a sleeve, covering myself the best I could before making my way out of the woods, wiping away an escaped tear as I quickly moved across the camp.

  I wasn't sure whether I was running away from him or myself.

  Confusion consumed me, the bottom of my feet screaming with every swift step. My legs and lungs both burned by the time I’d made it back to the tent. I could barely breathe as I fell inside and crawled onto the pile of furs, the thickness of their soft hides muffling my cries.

  Chapter Ten

  Eventually the tears subsided, but I was still a mess of jumbled thoughts, torn and unsure, my growing feelings going against everything that had ever been learned.

  It wasn’t meant to be like this. We weren't meant to be together, the two of us. I knew that. He had to have known that. What we were doing had to be wrong. So why didn't it feel that way?

  Of all the sweets I'd ever devoured, none tasted as good as this man. Of all the things I’d learned of love, I’d never known such desire.

  I flushed, finding myself wanting to know it intimately.

  Rolling over to my back, I sat up in a rush, tucking my feet and uselessly tugging my sleeve up over my shoulder to just have it fall back down again.

  I felt so exposed in his gaze. He looked incredibly menacing standing in the frame of the entrance, his dark eyes unblinking as he stared down at me. Lowering my chin like a chastised child, I fiddled with the hem of my dress, scooting back as he stepped forward.

  Fear flooded my chest, though I didn't know what I was more afraid of: him or his effect on me. The things he made me want to do terrified me.

  As if he could read my mind, he stepped forward and squatted down, making himself less threatening with
a gentle offering of his hand. I hesitated in taking it, choosing instead to study the hard calluses on his fingers and the lines in his palm, my gaze following the lean path of muscle leading up and into his eyes.

  For the first time I found nothing to be afraid of.

  I wanted this.

  I wanted him.

  With one look all that doubt melted away, our fingers molding in the heat of the fire. Pulling him closer, I placed his hand on the torn fabric that hung from my shoulder, letting him free the feeble strip from my chest.

  A newfound bravery siphoned its way through my veins and my hand slid up the length of his arm. He was as soft as he looked, as soft as I remembered, his caramel skin stretched taut. He shivered under my bold touch as I grazed slowly over the hills and valleys of well-worked muscle.

  Black ash smoldered under the lids of his eyes as his fingers brushed the side of my bare breast, the pads rough but gentle on my untouched skin. They were so warm. Everything about him was warm, and heating still, the closer he roamed to the rosy center. My breath quickened, hitching once the pad of his thumb circled a hardened peak.

  His lips forced me back to lie beneath him on the bed of furs, both of our breaths coming out in harsh huffs. I dug my nails into his shoulders as he trailed a line of kisses down the side of my neck, snaking an arm under my waist to arch my back. Bending to his whim, I pressed my head into soft pelt, jutting out my chest and obediently lifting my hips so he could tug the material over my quivering thighs and down my legs.

  Sitting back on his heels, he took my undergarment with him, making my cheeks catch fire as he pulled them from my feet to settle his knees back between my parted legs.

  I felt like a goddess under the weight of his stare, blanching at the sinful thought as I pulled my arms in to cover my chest. Grunting, his arms shot out to stop me, his hands wrapping around my wrists to lay them open on either side of me.

  Bending forward, he nipped at my collarbone and I moaned, my hand flying up to cradle the base of his neck. I caressed the skin under my fingers, my awed gaze following him as he bent down to kiss the inside of my elbow.