THE WARRIOR QUEEN (The Guinevere Trilogy Book 1) by Lavinia Collins Read Free Book Online

Carhais. But still I had never before felt what I did now, at the sight of Arthur naked before me; a flutter of something enticing and unfamiliar in the pit of my stomach. I let my fingertips trail softly over the muscles of his chest, down across his stomach. I could feel the blood high in my cheeks, and his eyes on my face, and I knew he was excited by the sight of me, looking at him.
    He reached for me again, fired with desire, his kisses more insistent. This time found the laces of the underdress, deftly undid them, and pushed it off my shoulders. It fell to the ground around my feet, and I stepped out of it. He took a step back then, and looked at me, for a moment, naked in the candlelight. From his lips escaped a tiny groan of pleasure and lust before he grasped me by the hips and threw me down on the bed. I felt my heart thud, and I was not sure it was fear. It was new, and dangerous, but exciting. I stretched out under him as he climbed onto me. His hands were all over me, strong, but gentle, yet demanding. I felt a delicious haze of it spread up around me, through me, and I was lost in it. My body responded with its instinct, following the heat of his touch. His kisses were hot and strong, first on my mouth, then neck, then my breasts and nipples and down my body until he found that place that made me cry out sharply, but quiet, with pleasure, and surprise. I felt at the centre of a hot, bright swirl of heady sensations, deliciously lost, and my body seemed to know what I wanted better than I did. At last, he entered me, his face hot against my neck, one hand tangled in my hair, the other at the small of my back holding me tight against him as we moved together. He was rough, but he did not hurt me, and I found I liked the feel of his bare skin against my own, his lips against my neck, at my ear, his powerful movements on top of me. There had been a sharp pain at the start, and I felt the patch of blood beneath me against my leg, but as Arthur groaned deeply, and with satisfaction, into my neck and rolled off me, I thought that it was nothing like I had been warned it would be, by Christine, who had been married and widowed before she had come to me. Unpleasant, but soon over, she had told me.
    Arthur turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, to face me. He reached out his other hand and gently smoothed the red curls back from my damp brow as I stretched out beside him, feeling the warmth of the wine and the pleasant ache inside me spread through me. He said nothing, and I said nothing, but this was a new kind of saying nothing between us. He leaned over and kissed me once, tenderly. The last candle guttered out as he gathered me into his arms, and we fell asleep.

Chapter Five
    When I woke, for a moment I didn’t remember where I was. The sunlight winked under my fluttering eyelids, dazzling and lovely, and for a moment I could have been anywhere. I could have been home. But home was gone. Camelot . I was in Camelot. And I remembered last night with Arthur. I slowly opened my eyes, and pushed myself up onto my elbows. He was there beside me, and it was real. This was my life now. Last night I had become his queen, and it had not been a dream. It was done now, and I was a wife, and I would not run home. I could not.
    I looked at him, still sleeping, with the soft gold touch of the sun glancing and lighting in his golden hair. His rough, masculine features relaxed in sleep, but still those, unmistakably, of a man who had forged his kingdom through war. He was handsome, I supposed. People always said that about their rulers, but Arthur did have a rough, primal charm to his looks that was undeniable. Besides, he had told me that he had had many women before, so I could not have been the only one who thought so. I was not sure, then, if I cared or not. Arthur groaned softly as he woke beside me, sensing my wakefulness, perhaps. With one strong arm he reached for me, rolling onto me, gathering me under him.