Ivy's Choice (The Fey Quartet Book 3) Read Online Free

pleasure that made her groan. Hugh’s weight on her, the thrust of his organ inside her, the rhythm he set . . .
    The wild, primitive pleasure built until Ivy felt that she might burst with it—and Hugh drove deeply into her again—and again—and she splintered with a pleasure so intense it could almost be called pain, bucking under him, her fingers digging deeply into his biceps.
    Ivy lost herself for a few moments. Dimly, she heard Hugh groan, dimly, she felt him shudder. Clarity slowly returned. Hugh lay relaxed on her, warm and heavy. His breath was ragged in her ear.
    She felt almost like crying. With wonder. With joy. Here, on the rushes, with Hugh Dappleward, she didn’t feel lame at all. She felt like a woman, not a cripple. She felt whole .
    Ivy tilted her head and pressed her face to the curve of Hugh’s neck, inhaling his scent.
    Hugh caught his breath and stiffened, and then he pushed abruptly away from her, scrambling back on the rushes. “Gods—I didn’t mean to— Oh, gods!”
    Ivy’s joy congealed into a cold, hard lump in her belly. She pulled the linen smock down over her knees and sat up. Don’t be embarrassed by what just happened, she told herself firmly. If you’re not embarrassed, he won’t be . “It’s all right,” she said.
    “All right? Gods, I forced myself on you!”
    Ivy blinked. “Nonsense.”
    “I’ll marry you,” Hugh said, his voice frantic. “Of course I’ll marry you!”
    Marry Hugh Dappleward? Oh, yes, said a wistful voice in her head. “Don’t be absurd,” Ivy said aloud.
    “But I forced —”
    “Hugh Dappleward, calm down.” She wanted to take him by the scruff of the neck and shake him; instead, she caught his wrist. “I wanted that as much as you did.”
    The room wasn’t so dark that she couldn’t see Hugh shake his head, couldn’t see the repudiation on his face. “Not that rough.”
    Had it been rough? It had certainly been animal and primitive, but not brutal, not violent. “I didn’t think it was rough.” Ivy released his wrist and found her crutch and climbed to her feet.
    Hugh watched her stand. His mouth became tighter. “I hurt you, didn’t I?”
    “No.” Ivy flicked her plait over her shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
    “Hungry?” Hugh gave a flat, bitter bark of laughter.
    Ivy leaned on the crutch and looked down at him. “Well? Are you?”
    He was silent a moment, his head bowed. “I’m starving,” he said, in a low voice.
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    IVY LIT FRESH rushlights and added more wood to the fire. Hugh sat silently on the floor while she warmed some pottage. His expression was closed, hiding his thoughts as the blanket hid his nudity. When the pottage was hot, Ivy ladled it into a bowl. Peas and oats, bacon and herbs. “Here,” she said, placing it on the table.
    Hugh climbed to his feet, staggered, and almost fell.
    “Hugh!” Ivy said, reaching for her crutch.
    “I’m fine,” he said, in a hoarse voice. “Just need to get my balance.”
    He stood for a moment, swaying, and then walked to the table, each step almost a lurch.
    “How long were you a roebuck?” Ivy asked, as he sat carefully. He looked like a drunk man, his movements cautious and over-large.
    “I don’t know,” Hugh said, not looking at her. “I don’t remember.”
    “Your face is clean-shaven.”
    “It is?” He raised a hand and touched his cheek. “I don’t . . . remember when I did that.”
    “Eat,” Ivy said, handing him a spoon.
    Hugh took it silently. After a moment, he dipped it in the pottage.
    He’d claimed to be starving, but he made no move to lift the spoon to his mouth. “What’s wrong?” Ivy asked. Had he forgotten how to use a spoon?
    “Wrong?” Hugh shoved the bowl away. “Ivy, I practically raped you, and now you’re sitting here feeding me as if nothing happened!”
    Ivy felt a sharp, painful sensation in her chest, as if an arrowhead was lodged there. I had sex with a man who wishes I hadn’t . She placed