had better.” Isabella winked. “Enjoy yourselves.” She closed the doors and left.
Sancha turned to him, hands folded in front.
If he could have managed words, he would have told her how breathtaking she was, hair flaming in the gauzy light, skin looking softer than the finest velvet, her coloring as pale as a pearl. Her eyes filled with what he identified as wonder, the same as his.
Unable to help himself, he eased into her, cupping her face.
Her lips parted. She leaned into him rather than pull away.
Surprised and delighted, he brushed his lips over hers, astounded at their silky heat. Her breath smelled sweetly of orange, her usual rose fragrance mingling with a hint of musk. Her excitement as a woman.
He eased his tongue inside her mouth and waited for her response, praying she wouldn’t move away at his bold move.
A soft, wanting sound poured from her. Sagged against him, she gripped his doublet and used his garment for support.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him, his thickened shaft snug against her mound. She stilled for a moment, then suckled his tongue, her need of him obvious.
This was heaven, the only reason to be alive. These moments would change everything between them. He’d claim her and she would be his for a lifetime.
Dizzy with joy, he deepened the kiss, working his fingers past her dark green caul and through her hair, caressing tresses softer than fur.
She clutched him more tightly, her mouth wanton and willing beneath his.
Exactly how he’d hoped their first moments alone would be, though still falling short of what he had to have. He cupped her breast, testing its weight and warmth, savoring her nipple pebbled against his palm.
She froze.
He tempered his passion and caressed her more gently.
She tore her mouth from his and pulled away.
He’d frightened her. Fool. He should have known better and did now. Despite his arousal, he remained where he was and dropped his hand to his side.
Sancha breathed as roughly as he did. She touched her mouth still damp from his lips on hers. He expected her to turn and run.
She cupped his face and claimed his mouth, driving her tongue inside.
He suckled her greedily. She returned his kiss, both of them pushing against each other to get closer. Unable to, Enrique wanted to howl in frustration. She moaned softly then pulled away again. This time she put out a shaky hand even though he hadn’t moved.
He pulled in a deep breath. She stepped back again.
Before she could leave the balcony altogether, he stopped breathing. “Are you all right?”
“No. Enough of this.”
Those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, though he had expected something unpleasant. “Enough of what?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You kissing me.”
He risked a smile. “When I stopped, you moved back into my arms and began again without me having to ask.”
Her face went slack, gaze turned inward. “Is this what you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Our kissing and enjoying these moments? Not entirely.”
“What then?” Fingers laced, she struck the same pose his mother had when he’d misbehaved as a child.
This wasn’t how he’d envisioned the most important moments of his life. He’d imagined music playing, candles dancing in a gentle breeze, him holding her hands as she waited breathlessly for his words.
Sancha, like Isabella, needed to learn how women behaved around men, accepting that males ruled, females obeyed, and everything was as God, nature, and men had always demanded.
He lifted one eyebrow. “I would ask if you enjoyed our kiss, but I sense you did.”
She opened her mouth then closed it.
Just as well. He wouldn’t have accepted her denial. “Since you did enjoy our kiss and moved into me for another that I found even more delightful, I believe you and I were meant for each other. Much as Isabella and Fernando have found perfection in their union. Therefore, I want you to know I intend to woo, win, wed, and bed you.”
Her face turned white.
He would have expected that reaction if he’d threatened her with death, not everlasting love or a blissfully happy marriage.
She stepped back. “No.”
No? He crossed his arms. “Is it your habit to kiss men as though you have deep feelings for them, then say no to their offers of marriage?”
“Of course not. Only with you.”
“What?”
She wrung her hands. “You, señor, are the first and the last man I ever intend to kiss.”
How comforting, at least when it came to her not wanting to be with another man. “Then what part of my offer are you saying no to?”
“All of it.”
He stiffened. “Why? I know you find Fernando repulsive. Are you saying I am too?”
“Never.” Her gesture took in his entire length. “I have never seen a more glorious man.”
He puffed up with pride and offered his sweetest smile. “You are unbelievably lovely.”
She stepped back.
Unable to help himself, he approached.
She lifted her hand to stop him. “Señor Don Enrique—”
“Enough of such formality. We kissed. Call me by my Christian name or not at all.”
She squared her shoulders. “Very well, Enrique. No matter what happened between us a few moments ago, I have no intention of wedding you or any man.”
He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Then why did you agree to come out here with me?”
“I suspected what you wanted to talk about and decided to tell you my feelings on the matter.”
Not while they’d been kissing, she hadn’t. “You intend to enter the order and stay at the convent forever? An odd choice for a woman who enjoys a man as you did me.”
Her throat flushed, the rosy tint matching her cheeks. “I have no intention of joining the order.”
“What then? You plan to remain independent?”
“Sí.”
“Why?”
