Chapter Twenty-One #3
A wicked smile spread across his lips. “Very much so,” he said, gathering her tightly. “And I shall be again before the night is out.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant until he kissed her again, deeply, and his manhood, still embedded in her, began to pulse to life.
She could feel it. As she lay there, staring at the wall behind him, he began to thrust into her again, slowly and gently, and she could feel her body rising to his passion.
She was so sensitive from their previous lovemaking that she released again in no time.
They were on their sides, facing one another, and he was angled between her spread legs, thrusting into her, as lightning raced through her loins again and again.
But the truth was that she was new to this, and her woman’s center was becoming tender, no matter how much she liked what they were doing.
She finally put her hand where their bodies joined in a weak attempt to stop him.
“No… no more,” she breathed. “I cannot… Oh, God…”
She climaxed one last time as he thrust into her, hard, his entire manhood buried in her body as he released himself again.
His hands were on her breasts, pulling at them, his mouth moving between her breasts and her neck.
Athdara wasn’t sure she could take any more, but the sensations were good. So very good.
Already, she yearned for it.
Breathing heavily, Tay finally came to a halt and gathered her to him tightly, his chin on the top of her head as he cuddled her against his powerful torso.
“I am sorry,” he murmured. “Forgive me, but I could not stop myself. I’ve never… This has never happened to me.”
“What has never happened to you?”
“I’ve met someone who was made just for me.”
Athdara took a long, slow breath, closing her eyes as a lone tear trickled down her temple. She could hear his heart beating steadily in her left ear and could feel his big body, warm and powerful, all around her. She’d never felt safer, nor more cherished, than she did at this very moment.
I’ve met someone who was made just for me.
She had, too.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Until the mountains crumble and the oceans run dry will I love you. And longer still.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said into her hair.
Athdara couldn’t even speak. To think she’d be leaving him in a short time was more than she could bear. She wanted to soak up her last hours with him, greedily, because they were hours that would have to sustain her for a lifetime.
Wrapping her arms around him as if to never let him go, she slept.
*
It was the snoring that woke her.
That wall-rattling, earthshaking snoring that was coming from Tay’s nose. His mouth wasn’t even open—it was all coming out of his nose.
Carefully, Athdara lifted her head.
They weren’t wrapped up in each other as they had been when she fell asleep, mostly because neither one of them were used to sleeping with someone else.
She’d managed to move away from him, and he remained on his side, a big arm lying across her belly.
When she first rolled onto her back somewhere in the previous hours, that arm had been just below her chest. His left hand was on her right breast. and every so often, he’d pinch her nipple.
She finally had to put her hand up there to stop him because every time he did it, she wanted him to bed her again, and this wasn’t something that could go on all night. At some point, it would have to stop.
Everything had to stop.
And now, that moment had arrived.
He was snoring so heavily that he didn’t even stir when she gingerly climbed out of bed.
He didn’t move as she silently collected the clothing she’d ripped from her body in the heat of passion.
After picking up everything, she snuck out of the chamber and back into her own, where she quietly shut the door to re-dress.
Swiftly, she grabbed a leather satchel, one he’d bought her when he purchased all of those things for her in Tiverton, and began shoving things into it.
She only wanted to pack the things she’d come with, but that old pair of breeches and the tunic were so ruined that it would be difficult to wear them again.
They were mostly falling apart. Therefore, she only packed a couple of pairs of new breeches, four tunics, a comb, soap, and a few other things she would need on her travels.
The only cloak she had was a fine one with fur lining, so she took that and put some money on the table to pay for it.
She didn’t have much, but she wanted to at least make the gesture.
Given that she was going to break the man’s heart, she thought she should.
St. Denis had the missive she’d written him, and he was supposed to give it to Tay on the morrow when he went looking for her. He might think that the missive was forged, which was why she’d cut off a lock of her hair and sealed it into the envelope. That way, he’d know she’d written it.
He’d know she was serious.
Tears threatened, but she wouldn’t give in to them, not now.
Even through the closed door, she could still hear him snoring.
She dressed in breeches and a long, heavy, and well-made tunic that went to her ankles, allowing her to ride and move freely.
Her old boots went back on her feet, as she wouldn’t take the new ones that Tay had purchased for her, and she braided her hair tightly to keep it out of her way.
After donning the cloak, she grabbed the satchel and slipped from the chamber.
At this hour, she was wary of Marina being in the kitchen, but her friend was nowhere to be found. Athdara headed for the kitchen door, but when she remembered how badly the hinges creaked, she went to the front door.
Even as she passed through it, she could still hear Tay snoring overhead. She heard him as she went out into the street. When the snoring faded away the farther she went, the tears finally came.
Time, for her, was of the essence now, so she ran all the way to the stables.
The stable area of Blackchurch was rather large.
The guild had, at any given time, thirty or more horses.
Some were used for training, but others were personal possessions of the trainers and the de Bottreaux family.
Athdara entered one of the smaller stable structures, then, seeing that it was dark and that there was no horse waiting for her, moved to one of the larger ones.
Inside, she found a saddled mount, a long-legged warmblood, that was ready to ride.
There were saddlebags and a rain cloak attached to it.
On a post near the horse, an oil lamp burned low, giving off enough light for her to tie her satchel to the saddle.
A servant, one who would stay with the animals at night in case there was an emergency, was sleeping off in the darkness.
She could barely see him in the shadows.
The only thing she didn’t see was a blanket for the horse, so she went over to an old stool against the wall to collect one that was tossed on top of it—and then she heard a voice from behind.
“La fille du duc. On se revoit, demoiselle.”
Startled, Athdara turned to see a man emerging from the darkness toward her.
And he was carrying a very big dagger.