Chapter 19 #2
They had passed by the gates and into the center of the courtyard, and she knew that the men on guard around the parapets were watching.
His men, her men. Were they amused, or angered?
Many of the people, men and women, had always known what she had not—that the king was Norman in his ways, and that he would never simply allow her to have her father’s power on her own.
And those who had known that one of the king’s men would be given Blue Isle were probably grateful of the man who had come, and thus they probably watched the spectacle below thinking her the willful one to cause trouble for such a powerful warrior laird.
“Aye?” he queried as Mercury trotted to a halt.
“Put me down.”
He dismounted, allowing her to slide to her feet before him, but not releasing her. She saw that his young armor-bearer, Geoffrey, was there, ready to take care of Mercury.
Waryk’s eyes locked with hers as she found her feet.
“What shall it be?” he said softly.
“Let go of me. The guards are watching.”
“Aye, they are, aren’t they? So, if I agree, what will you do?”
“Walk into the tower.”
He arched a brow, and released her. She spun around and started toward the tower, entering through the arched doorway, nodding to the guard there, and heading directly up the stairs.
She came to the corridor. He was behind her, she felt his presence, his breath, his being, so close that she nearly screamed.
The concept of a pretense of domestic tranquillity suddenly seemed appealing; she wanted only to reach the great hall.
“Ah!” he cried mockingly from just an inch behind her. “Would great Adin allow dinner now, in the face of such obstinate disdain and total rejection? I think not.” He reached out, catching her arm, spinning her around.
“Waryk, we’ve a guest—”
“And you are concerned for him now? I imagine that since Sir Percy might have managed on his own without you, he can fare on his own without me as well.”
“We’ve a household—”
“Aye, and the household can entertain our guest. I like being like Adin, my lady.”
“You’re not like Adin!”
“Fine. I shall be like me.” Alarmed by the look in his eyes, she tried to wrench free.
He drew her to him, sweeping her into his arms. He turned in the corridor.
Angry strides brought him to their chambers, and he kicked the door open with a power that made the wood groan and shudder.
Inside, he closed the door in much the same manner.
“Waryk, stop this, leave me alone!” she cried.
“Nay, lady, I will not.”
She struggled in his arms, writhing like a fish on a hook, then slamming her palms against his chest. She realized after a moment that he was just standing there, letting her beat against him, and then he walked with her to the furs before the fire, eased to his knees, and laid her there, his eyes locking with hers once again.
“Listen to me,” he told her.
She shook her head, staring at him, trying to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling. “No, I will not listen—”
“You will.” He reached out, drawing his knuckles down her cheek. “You may believe this or not, but I’ve no desire to go to Tyne.”
“I don’t care—”
“You do, that’s what this is all about.”
“But you will go to Tyne. And you will see her.”
“You see Ewan daily.”
“That is different. We were never …”
“But did that matter? You did love him. Enough to fight for him, to defy the king for him! I can’t deny that Eleanora and I were lovers, and in truth, I must either see her or blind myself, a rather drastic measure to take.”
She turned her face from his, staring at the fire.
He caught her chin, and drew her back to look at him.
“I admit as well, in marrying you, I felt myself wed to a double-edged sword, albeit an enticing one at that. But then, since, I have also admitted that I find you quite beautiful, while you have discovered me only slightly less than repulsive.”
“Waryk—”
He set his palms upon her face, and lowered his mouth to hers. She tried to twist free, and could not. His kiss was engulfing, forceful … seductive … relentless. She fought hard not to respond, yet was breathless when he raised his head from hers.
“Ah, yes, a mistress. Well, she never fought me, you know.”
“I’ve never fought you.”
He arched a brow.
She set her jaw. “I know that I’m your wife,” she said tightly.
“Duty, eh, my love? A mistress seduces—there is a difference.”
“Well, sir, you’ll be seeing her soon enough, since you’ve chosen not to blind yourself.”
“Ah, well, it was a try … then I shall have to do the seducing myself.” He set a hand upon her bodice, fingers tangling around the embroidered lacing there.
She caught hold of his hand, amazed that despite her anger and determination, she could still want him so.
His scent seemed to permeate her senses, his touch created fire, his eyes danced with the blaze, and his power seemed to be all around her.
“No,” she murmured, fingers curled around his.
“Duty,” he reminded her dryly.
Soft fur lay beneath her; the light was simply a glow of the blaze.
She opened her mouth to protest again, but his kiss consumed her ardent and demanding, and his fingers were deft as he dealt with the lacing of her gown.
Her heart ached, she couldn’t submit, and she tried to twist upon the soft fur, escape his touch.
Her gown came free, and even as she turned, her very movement bared her shoulders and back.
His arms came around her, and she bowed her head as she felt the liquid flame of his caress against her nape, down her spine, lower and lower.
His palms moved over her breasts. In a tangle of clothing, she was turned within his arms, meeting his kiss once again.
His fingers stroked between her legs, slid deeply into her. Caressed. Enticed …
His tartan needed little effort to cast aside.
In seconds, he was within her himself, and she closed her eyes, clung, and felt the fire cast gold and crimson upon her, and rage with its fierce, all-encompassing flame.
She swallowed down the cry that would have escaped her when it was over.
It seemed impossible that she could feel such acute physical pleasure one minute, then such a wave of abject misery the next.
She had known that she must never want him, need him. She had known …
Then she heard his whisper.
“Since you are my wife, lady, there is the solution that you ride with me.”
“What?” she gasped.
He rolled her to him. “Ride with me. Be with me. Sleep with me.”
“You want me to come?” she said, amazed and skeptical.
“Aye, lady. Did you think me happy with the thought of leaving you behind when I know that your mind is ever busy?”
“Meaning?”
“God knows, you disappear far too easily.”
She had no idea, searching his eyes in the fire glow, if he teased her or spoke with serious intensity. She only knew that she could think of nothing she wanted more.
“Well?”
“Aye, sir, if you wish it, I will ride with you,” she said primly.
“Aye then, we will ride together,” he said, drawing her into his arms. She leaned back against his chest. They lay upon the furs in the fire-shadow, watching the lure of the flame. Then she closed her eyes, setting her fingers upon his arm as he held her, and she was afraid to be so happy.