Cursor's Fury by Jim Butcher Read Free Book Online Page A

turned with her and sat her on the edge of his oaken desk. There was the sound of steel rasping on steel as he drew the dagger from his belt and set it beside her on the desk. She protested, “Bernard, not ag—”

    His mouth covered hers in a sudden, scorching kiss that briefly silenced Amara. He opened the heavy jacket of her flying leathers, and one hand tightened on the small of her back, all but forcing her to arch her body to meet his mouth as he nuzzled her through the thin muslin of her blouse. His teeth scored lightly over the tips of her breasts, a sharp and sweet little agony, and the sudden inferno that the touch ignited erupted through her body, utterly robbing her of the ability to speak anything but a low and desperate moan of need.

    She found herself squirming, hips grinding against his, as he took up the knife and with quick, certain flicks, cut the leather cords binding the seams on the outside of one leg of her leather breeches. Far from objecting, she urged him to hurry with her hands and body and mouth, and began tearing at his own clothing as she felt the air touch more and more naked skin.

    Her eyes met his, and as she always did, Amara felt stunned at the depth of desire in them, that this man, her secret husband, actually wanted her so very badly. At first she had hardly believed what she had seen in his face, and even now it was a feeling that remained fresh and new. More, it sparked an answering desire far beyond anything she had ever dared hope to feel. For Amara, it was exhilarating that a man should want her so genuinely, so desperately. This man. Her husband, her lover.

    He made Amara feel beautiful.

    p. 31 He kissed her, hands and mouth roaming over her until she thought she would lose her mind. She let out a low cry, gave her desires free rein, and he took her there on the desk, his presence, his strength, his scent, his touch all blending into torturous pleasure she could hardly endure. Her desire to touch and to feel drove all thoughts from her mind. Nothing mattered but what she could taste, hear, feel, smell, and she embraced it with abandon.

    Hours later, she lay with him in his wide bed, her long, slender limbs twined with his. She could not remember precisely when he had carried her into his chambers, but the angle of the sunlight striking one wall through a high, narrow window told her that afternoon was rapidly fading toward twilight. She was naked, but for the single silver chain she wore around her neck, and Bernard’s heavy Legion ring set with a green stone that hung upon the necklace. One of his arms was around her, and his body was a heavy, relaxed presence.

    Amara lay there, sleepy and content, idly stroking one of her own slender, honey brown hands over the cords of muscle in one of his arms. She had seen Bernard casually lift loads that even a gargant would not consider a light burden, through the power given him by his earthcrafting, and she found it eternally amazing that so strong a man could be so very, very gentle, too.

    “I missed you, my lady,” he murmured, his voice pitched low, a lazy, satisfied growl in his tone.

    “And I you, my lord.”

    “I’ve been looking forward to this trip.”

    Amara let out a wicked little laugh. “If you had your way, we’d stay right here.”

    “Nonsense,” he said, but smiled as he did. “I miss my nephew.”

    “And that’s what you’ve been looking forward to,” she murmured. She moved her hand. “Not this.”

    Her husband’s eyelids fluttered shut and he let out a low hiss. “Don’t get me wrong. Mmmm. I have no objections to that. None at all.”

    He felt the soft, dark hairs of his chest brush against her cheek as she smiled. “I suppose it works out then.”

    Bernard laughed, a relaxed and warm sound. He tightened his arm around her slightly and kissed her hair. “I love you.”

    “And I you.”

    He fell quiet for a moment, and she felt herself tense up a little. She could sense that he