AUTHOR'S NOTE: Maybe it was destined, or maybe, it was a convenient coincidence, but, the original version of the eighth installment of Courting Daphne got deleted accidentally. For a while, I was heartbroken, since I lost the complete version of that tale, and thus, could not re-upload it.
Then, I thought, "What the hell? Why can't I just re-write it?" So, for weeks, I struggled to write it while also dealing with my midterm exams. I don't know if this is going to be good news to my readers or what, but, I decided not to end Courting Daphne in this version of the eighth chapter. The feedbacks I received for the deleted version suggested that it left some of you wanting, so, now, I will extend it a bit.
Sorry for the long note, but I had to say that. :D Anyway, the next installments would most definitely not be under this category, since, as you must notice, Daphne's reluctance is melting away. :P Still not sure where to put it, though, so, we'll see. :P
I hope you enjoy reading this new version, which I dedicate to the readers who so generously supported me. Let me know what you think of it. Much love, SF.
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Tents lined the grounds of Northcove's ducal palace. The warriors were celebrating one way or another: through drinking with other warriors, sharing their cots with women, or just sleeping soundly inside their tents. Anthony Renard has spoken to them and explained what was going on, and by the Duke of Wildercross' order and with the Duke of Northcove's assistance, the Army of the Black Wolves was ready to fulfill its mission.
If there was one person in their ranks who had no idea what the deuce they were doing there, it was their general, Leander Van Halen, who was presently a 'guest' in Northcove's palace. Staying inside a brightly-lit room with tasteful decoration and a huge bed, the general was not present to hear the report of his second-in-command.
Although learning the truth was still on Leander's list of priorities, it was by no means the top one at the moment. He would know what was going on soon; right now, his priority was the naked woman on the bed inside his assigned room.
With an amused expression on his face, Leander watched as Daphne writhed underneath him. Her right wrist was bound by a shackle, and Leander was holding the key to it. She was trying her hardest to reach the key with her left hand, which he left unchained so that he could play with her.
He should be wary; he should not trust her, yet, all Leander could think about was that she was here, she was safe, she was with him. Later, he would ask her for explanations. Later, he would fight with her if need be. But right now, all he wanted was to savour her, to love her, for he has not gotten enough of her yet.
"Let me go!" she groaned, grimacing as she tried to grab the key once again.
Leander dropped it onto the carpeted floor near the foot of the bed. "Too bad. You need to earn your freedom inch by inch."
In frustration, Daphne bit her lower lip, pouting. "Please, Leander..."
The general's grin widened. Did she know how cute she looked whenever she would do that? Whether she was aware of it or not, she was making him want her even more badly now. He chuckled softly.
Daphne's cheeks turned crimson, perhaps embarrassed that he should be laughing at her. Or maybe she was getting mad. Before Leander could even decide what it was that made her blush, she began speaking.
Amazed, the general listened as Daphne's pleas turned to commands, and then to threats. It was amusing. And the way she moved beneath him was more than arousing; every twist was teasing, sensual.
He had been with other women before, and Leander would like to think that he had been with the very best. But this one -- this one was perfect. So beautiful outside, so complicated inside. A soft heart and an iron will within the most luscious body a woman could possess. Sweet fragrance, soft flesh --
Gods, she was making him hard!
Daphne continued to rant on and on, but he had long tuned her out.
"If this shackle so much as leave a mark on my skin, I swear to you that I will
never
forgive you!"
Her voice had so much passion, was so full of emotions. It sounded melodious, minus the thing that she was ranting about.
Not that he paid the message any heed. All that Leander could see was her lips, moving so sensually as she spoke her thoughts out loud. Her eyes: those green pools where golden tokens seemed to have been generously dropped. Her hair: soft golden waves spread around her head like a shimmering halo for a not-so-saintly child.
And her skin...
As he slowly stroked her wrist with his thumb, Leander could not fail to notice the silky smoothness of her milky-white skin. Her hairs were so fine that they could almost be non-existent.
Unable to control himself, Leander found himself kissing Daphne's bare neck. The lady stopped midway through her most recent complaint.
"Leander?" she asked breathlessly.
By that time, the general was teasing her with his tongue, making patterns on her skin. If he could only devour her, he swore that he would. Inch by inch, savouring her to his heart's desire.
"Hmm?"
"Were you even listening?" Daphne asked in a whisper.
"Uh-huh," he replied, kissing his way down to her shoulder.
Her pulse was accelerating,
he noted.
Out of fear, out of anger, or out of anticipation?
*****
"Uh-huh?" she repeated.
How could he have survived in this world?
Daphne thought. Their world was no place for liars -- or, at least, for people who are not good at lying -- and yet, there he was, blatantly lying to her face.
Uh-huh?
Uh-huh
?! Daphne would bet her right hand that he had tuned her out.
But, at least, Leander was an effective 'convincer'; he was able to shut her up. Her shock when he kissed her neck made her stop whining. That, the gentle pressure of his thumb against her wrist, and the press of his hard-on on her thighs, were enough to make her stop struggling beneath him.
Let him shackle her, let him seduce her, let him do anything! As long as Daphne knew that he would be making love to her, she would not care what happened afterward.
She missed him. Gods, how she missed him! Having him inside her for a single session was not enough -- not nearly enough. She wanted more, and the sooner she got it, the better.
But even if she knew that Leander lusted for her, she also knew that he was going to punish her. If not right now, then, at one point in the next twenty-four hours.
Or maybe he would just question her, ignoring the torture she brought when she refused to unshackle him while she was doing all the works to get him inside her.
