Yet the light was not what first awoke her. From the bailey came the shouts and sounds of men and horses, the chinking and clanging of armor, the neighing of restless mounts. The next thing she became aware of was the hand cradling her bare breast... and the soreness between her legs. Her heart lurched as sultry images from the night before came back to plague her. She winced, biting into her lower lip, and shielding her eyes with a hand, stole a glance at the other occupant of the bed. Seeing him lying there beside her, she knew it had not been a dream, and she was at once filled with conflicting emotions—too many to recount. His eyes were as yet closed, and he lay upon his belly with one arm thrown over her, pinning her to the bed. The palm of his hand cupped one breast. Sweet Jesu, even now, without so much as trying, his touch stirred her body. She tried not to note the contrasts of their skin, his dark hand against her pale flesh—tried not to focus on the feel of his battle-hardened hands upon her smooth body.
