Chapter 18
I t was as if the world and everyone in it fell away for long moments while the couple caressed each other with their eyes. Finally, she offered him her hand and he carried it to his lips as if it were precious to him. His warm breath teased her skin. “Will you sit beside me, my lady?”
“With the greatest pleasure, my lord.”
The desire he felt was almost blinding.
Joan’s eyebrows elevated as she looked at Adele, and took a seat farther down the table from the dallying couple. Anyone seeing them could tell they had a claim upon each other.
Paddy and Ali came immediately to the sides of Adele and Glynis to hold their chairs and the seven people sat down cozily as if they had always dined together. As Hawksblood held her chair for her, Brianna placed her hand upon his arm to steady herself and the moment she touched him, she needed steadying. Her brows went up, slanting the witch-mark on her cheekbone. “Why do you wear mail to the table?”
He pulled up the sleeve of his linen chainse to reveal the powerful, muscular arm. “I wear no mail, lady.”
Brianna caught her breath on a shiver. She was reeling from the nearness of him. She swept down her lashes to hide the wild desire she felt at the intensity of his dark look. Then she raised them halfway to give him a glimpse of it.
He smiled slowly, wickedly, dangerously.
His eyes lingered on her hair, which had been braided and looped with peacock ribbon. He anticipated that it would give him as much pleasure to take it down as it would to undress her, then he contemplated which he would do first. He began to fill and harden. He almost controlled it, then decided to enjoy the pleasure of arousal.
Everything about him fascinated her. His coloring was in complete contrast with the golden Plantagenets and the blond knights of England. Physically he was perfect and without scar. Almost, she amended, wildly curious about the black scimitar on his inside thigh. His past and his origins fascinated her also. He was an enigma, but she smiled inwardly, knowing she possessed the key to his mystery. I’m in love! Why should I keep resisting him when it’s the last thing in the world I want to do? Christian Hawksblood de Beauchamp is the one with whom I want to spend my life! It’s preordained .
Tonight, even the food upon Brianna’s trencher tasted like ambrosia. Then she realized that Christian had supplied it. “I am in your debt for providing this delicious venison, as are all in Bedford Castle. How shall I repay you?” She asked the provocative question deliberately.
His eyes were splinters of aquamarine. They crinkled in amusement, promising her he would show her how to repay him. They were so close, their thoughts were shared without words. “Taste the boar. She gave me the devil of a chase, then threatened to gore me.” The teasing light in his eyes implied she offered the same sort of challenge. He cut off a succulent chunk and held it to her lips.
Brianna took it with sharp white teeth, then licked her lips over the zesty morsel. “How fortunate that you managed to subdue your quarry. Do you always?”
“Usually. I enjoy the chase and I enjoy the kill.” Again Brianna shivered, and Hawksblood was aware of every tremor. “I’ve decided to make some changes here that I should apprise you of,” he said on a more serious note.
Brianna’s eyes laughed up into his. “I wondered when you would get around to seeking my permission.”
His intense look robbed her of breath. “I seek an endless number of things from you, lady, but none of them is permission !”
“Domination and submission is a game that holds little appeal for me,” she warned provocatively.
His smile flashed out. “That is because you have not yet experienced being dominated by me.”
“And never will,” she assured him.
“You shall, you shall,” he promised in a low voice.
Her throat went dry. Brianna gathered what wits he left her. “You spoke of changes?”
He experienced a surge of male satisfaction when she took a verbal step backward. “I’ve made Sir James Burke the new castellan of Bedford.”
She gasped. “Won’t Sir Neville Wiggs be angry?”
“Furious,” he conceded with a grin.
“Have you asked him to step down?” she asked, wide-eyed.
His brow rose. “Asked him? Hardly! I’ve ordered him to turn over his keys and accounts to Burke.”
“Will he obey you?”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Implicitly. He’ll soon be too busy to be Bedford’s castellan. I’ve recruited him and his knights for the king’s army. Like the rest of us, Wiggs is about to go to war.”
Her shoulders drooped, her hand went to her throat. “How can you speak so eagerly of war?”
He shrugged and grinned. “It is what I have trained for all my life.”
Her eyes searched his. Her teasing banter fled. “I am filled with apprehension for you, Christian,” she whispered.
His eyes softened. “Sweet. Fear not, I shall return victorious.”
Brianna blushed, realizing she had let him see she cared. “Mr. Burke is a perfect choice. I approve wholeheartedly.”
Hawksblood experienced another surge of male power as she retreated to safer ground. “That is because you are as intelligent as you are beautiful.”
She cast him a tempting sidewise glance. “You think flattery will gain you aught?”
“Words are powerfully seductive. They can bring a woman to rapture.”
Her cheeks held a delicate tint. “I know naught of rapture,” she said primly.
The look he gave her was smoldering. A muscle hardened at his jaw. “You had better bloody well not.”
Her insides went weak at his possessive tone.
Joan saw the intimate progression as the pair parried and thrust in their verbal game of courtship. She realized Brianna was on the brink of the precipice with the edge crumbling beneath her feet.
“I would love to visit the stone quarries. Are they finished cutting yet?”
Two pairs of eyes stared at Joan blankly for a moment before they realized there were others about to observe what they did and said.
“We start cutting tomorrow, Lady Kent.”
“Oh, may we come and observe?” Joan asked prettily, and the other ladies looked at him hopefully.
“It is really no place for ladies.”
“Of course we shall visit the quarries. I am mistress here,” Brianna said firmly.
The ladies exchanged amused glances. It was unlike Brianna to assert her authority.
Hawksblood murmured outrageously, “Mistress…the word conjures such forbidden fantasies. I’m weak at the thought.”
Devil! Would the blush ever leave her cheeks? She dared not look into those mesmerizing eyes another moment. She lowered her lashes so that all she saw were his hands upon his goblet. It was a mistake. His hands were so attractively powerful, her throat ached for their touch. He had such an animal strength she almost screamed to be touched by him. She was well snared. She’d scream if he touched her; scream if he did not!
Brianna reached for her own goblet to cool her throat. Bedford had no wine, only October ale for the men and cider for the ladies, but she found it a potent brew tonight. She felt alternately giddy and dizzy, yet she knew it was not cider alone that stole her senses.
He selected a pear tart, then carried the first spoonful to her lips. She allowed him to feed her, then licked the spoon lustily. It was Christian’s turn to shudder. Her lashes flew up so her eyes could meet his, but his gaze was riveted upon her mouth with such blazing desire she closed her eyes against his raw male sexuality.
The servers began to clear the tables and it was the signal for those in the hall to stretch their legs and regroup for conversation or dice. The men and women at the head table were loathe to part company. Adele had been telling Joan and Glynis and Hawksblood’s squires what it had been like here in the old days. Joan took up a beribboned lute and passed it to Brianna’s aunt. “Adele has promised to sing as she did when you were a little girl.”
“How lovely. I remember the special times when Adele and my mother sang the old Irish ballads. Those were such happy days for Bedford,” Brianna recalled.
“Rhianna had a far more striking voice than I,” Adele said modestly. “A happy hall should always have music. I will sing if Brianna too will entertain her guests.”
Everyone applauded this suggestion and gave their attention to Adele. She had a lovely soft, gentle voice. The notes fell sweetly as she accompanied herself on the lute. When she sang, her plain features were transformed to beauty. Brianna was surprised to see the hint of a tear in Paddy’s eye as he listened to the plaintive Irish ballad. With their applause, they persuaded her to sing again and again, until at last she laughed firmly and insisted it was Brianna’s turn.
Brianna arose and went to the corner where the Celtic harp stood. She pulled up a stool and drew the carved instrument against her shoulder. Everyone save Adele was astounded. Brianna’s voice was full and rich. Unsuited to plaintive ballads, it was perfect for the rousing song she chose. It was a song often used for battle to fire the blood and lead men on to victory. Her voice was like rich, dark wine. If Adele’s songs appealed to the soul, Brianna’s appealed to the body, arousing it physically, potently.
In her peacock gown with a nimbus of candleglow about her golden head, she looked and sounded exactly like the countess had when she presided over this hall. Brianna made no secret of whom she sang to. Christian Hawksblood sat enthralled. Looking at her and listening to her told him she would be generous and reckless and wonderful in his bed. She was a woman fit for a prince.
Drakkar smiled. His world was unfolding exactly as it should.
When Brianna finished, the applause was thunderous. Everyone in the hall had ceased what they were doing to give their mistress their undivided attention. It was almost as if the countess had appeared to them in a vision. It was a sign, an omen, that Bedford’s fortunes were on the rise.
Brianna lingered in the hall until the hour was advanced. She could not bear to part with Christian Hawksblood’s company. At last, with a sigh, she arose and the ladies went up to their chambers.
Alone, she stood before the mirror, dazzled by her reflection. The gown had transformed her both physically and emotionally. She felt fully alive…the girl had been replaced by a woman. She closed her eyes to savor the feeling. She hugged herself and beneath her hands the silk of the peacock gown felt so sensual to the touch she was reluctant to remove it. When she opened her eyes to steal a last glimpse of herself, she looked into aquamarine eyes! Ah God, it was happening again.
“You are my woman.”
She whirled to face him.
Christian Hawksblood was no vision but a very real flesh-and-blood man. She should protest. She should order him from her chamber. She should remonstrate with him for his boldness, demurring to be alone with him. Brianna knew all the things she should do.
She did none of them.
“I knew you would come,” she said simply.
There were still a few steps to intimacy that had not yet been taken, but both knew they would be taken this night. Without hesitation, Hawksblood reached out for a peacock ribbon and his long fingers undid the bow, then threaded through her hair to unplait it. He had anticipated the feel of the golden silk mass spilling over his hands since the first moment he had seen it, but he had been unprepared for the physical impact it had upon him.
He was aroused the moment he entangled his fingers in it. He felt the jolt hit the center of his chest, lance deeply into his belly, then slither along his manroot until he was big and hot and hard. He felt his self-control melting away; that same control he’d worked a lifetime to develop.
He reached for the other plait. Hawksblood had learned in his training that hand-to-head contact was a major step toward trust and forging an emotional bond. An injury to the head usually caused instant death, and to duck away was a survival reaction. Brianna did not duck away. She stayed absolutely still, allowing him to do whatever he wished with her glorious hair.
“It feels like I have waited a lifetime to learn its texture”—he lifted it to his face—“and its fragrance.” She smelled of spice and flowers and woman. The next step to intimacy was mouth to mouth.
Brianna licked her full bottom lip in anticipation of the kiss. The sight of the tip of her tongue undid him. His mouth covered hers and he took possession of the full underlip and tongue, drawing them into his own mouth as if he would devour her.
Brianna kissed him back, thoroughly, wantonly, as he took advantage of their full embrace. His powerful fingers splayed through her hair, holding the back of her head so she was a prisoner for his ravishing. The taste of her was everything he had dreamed and more. He allowed all of his senses full rein so that he saw and heard and smelled and tasted and felt all of her womanly essence, so rich and ripe and succulent.
Brianna’s hands slid up his chest, relishing the solid muscle beneath them. She had no thought to push him away. Rather, she celebrated finally laying her hands upon his magnificent body.
When at last he took his mouth from hers, she put her arms behind his neck and touched her lips to the pulse beat in his throat. Lifting her arms made her breasts slide up his chest in such a provocative manner, his desire was savage, hungry. His hands went to her waist and he lifted her against him slowly, pleasurably.
She laughed down into his face, trusting him, tempting him. Her golden hair fell in masses upon his chest as his mouth lifted to first lick the tiny black witch-mark, then worship her mouth, learning the shape of her curved lips, mastering her teasing tongue. Then slowly, blissfully, he allowed her body to slide down his until her toes touched the carpet. He would repeat the exercise when they were both naked, so they could experience the wild, hot slide of love-slick skin against skin.
His passion grew so that even his face hardened and when Brianna’s fingertips feathered up his jaw to his saber-sharp cheekbones, he felt his blood beating in his brain, his throat, even the soles of his feet. It did not beat in his male center; it pounded savagely, it throbbed deeply, it surged demandingly in the most stunning arousal he had ever experienced.
Christian wanted Brianna to enjoy every nuance of arousal along with him. He wanted her to feel desire in every silken inch of skin she possessed. He wanted her passion to run the gamut from purest heaven to exquisite hell. His lips began to whisper love sounds against her temple, then moved down to her ear where his words became shockingly erotic. Against her throat, his whispers became enticing, then as his fingers unfastened her peacock gown, baring her shoulders; his whispering mouth tantalized her skin until it felt like hot silk.
Brianna’s breathing deepened so that her breasts seemed to rise toward his seeking mouth. The crests ruched as his whispering breath teased the taut peaks and his powerful hands cupped her full breasts, weighing, caressing, playing, and finally worshiping them as precious love objects.
Brianna wanted to scream with excitement when she thought of her bare breasts touching his naked chest. Her greedy fingers unfastened his linen chainse and peeled it from his torso. When he crushed her soft breasts against the swarthy expanse of muscle covered by its black pelt, she did scream with pure, unadulterated lust. Brianna was panting, almost incoherent with her rising desire.
Christian smiled, knowing she needed an outlet. “It’s all right to bite me, my love,” he whispered, and the temptation was so overwhelming, she bit his shoulder, leaving crescent teethmarks across the flesh of his breastbone.
All the barriers to privacy had been passed. Both naked from the waist up, they indulged in endless foreplay until she was clinging to him and they were entwined in her hair as if they had been bound together by golden thread.
Christian bent his head so that he could dip his tongue into her navel and at the same time his hands slid up her legs, raising the hem of her peacock gown all the way up to her golden mons. His palms covered her bottom cheeks and he urged her against his rigid thighs. He knew she would gasp with pleasure and so he lifted his mouth to possess hers.
With a delicious gasp she opened to the demanding pressure of his lips, welcoming the probing sleek tongue deeply inside her. She rubbed her woman’s center against his swollen phallus, feeling the heat of him through his chausses. Suddenly she wanted him to take her so that she could possess him utterly, totally. She wanted him inside her body, deep inside, where it was hot and dark and wet. She wanted him to plunge his sword into her tight sheath. She wanted him to come home.
The gown was a terrible impediment between them and she was frantic to free herself of the sensual peacock fabric. With a cry she shoved it down from her waist until finally it fell to the floor and she stepped away from it.
The moment she did so, a wave of awareness swept over her. What in the name of God was she doing? She was completely exposed and vulnerable to his possessive hands and seeking mouth! What madness had induced her to allow him to undress her? She desperately tried to cover her nakedness with her hair. In a blinding flash of comprehension, Brianna realized it was the peacock gown that had changed all her perceptions, all her emotions, and all her inhibitions. It had been the same at the tournament when she had donned her mother’s gray velvet cloak. She saw Christian Hawksblood through the vision of someone with second sight. Her mother’s mystic power had come to her through the clothes she had worn.
“Stop! Hawksblood, I cannot do this thing!” she cried.
He did not remove his hands from her body, rather he tightened his hold upon her. “We are both committed; we cannot turn back,” he said hoarsely.
“Nay, it was the gown, don’t you see?” she cried desperately. “When I wear my mother’s garments, I am insatiably attracted to you. When I take them off, I return to my senses. I return to being Brianna.”
“My love, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You have always been Brianna; will always be Brianna. You are you, forever!”
His words were solid common sense. How could she refute them? It was not her mother’s power that had lured her to this wickedness, it was Christian Hawksblood’s power. It was Drakkar’s dark, compelling power. “You have lured me to let you have your way with me. You control my mind, my body, and no doubt wish to control my soul!” Her eyes were wide with fear and shame for their carnal behavior. “How can you make me do these things? Leave me at once! It is wrong! Wrong!” A vision of Robert’s golden beauty came to her and she was covered with guilt.
Hawksblood took hold of her naked shoulders in a brutal grip and shook her. “Stop it!” he commanded savagely. “Stop it, now!”
Naked beneath his powerful hands and his blazing wrath, she was totally vulnerable and helpless.
“It has nothing to do with your mother. It has absolutely nothing to do with some mythic power you attribute to me. It involves you and you alone, Brianna. You have chosen me of your own free will. Face it! Be woman enough to admit you want me.”
It was a revelation. His eyes held hers, forcing her to face the truth. Drakkar de Beauchamp was a compelling force to be reckoned with. Brianna wanted him. She wanted him exactly as he was. The truth was that she loved him, had always loved him, would always love him. As if the silken mass of hair were too heavy for her, her head fell back, exposing the curve of her throat with its tempting, enticing vulnerability.
One arm swept beneath her knees as he lifted her high against his chest and carried her to the bed. “We are about to become more intimate than any lovers since the dawn of time. We will start by talking.”
Christian knew how much control this would take on his part. He decided to keep on his chausses for the moment, for her sake and his. He set her down upon the bed to really look at her. She was so lovely, she was a pleasurable assault upon the senses. One side of her golden hair spilled from the bed to the carpet like a molten waterfall. The other side followed the ripe curves of her body, all the way down to her feet. It both concealed and revealed the melon-ripe breasts and the exquisitely high mound of Venus crowned by curls of golden fire.
He lifted her foot and placed a kiss upon her high instep. Brianna’s toes curled deliciously. She wanted to enjoy the sensations he aroused in her, but she was filled with apprehension about what he would do next.
Christian knew her thoughts. “Trust me for this loving.” His voice was a husky, intimate murmur. “I know you are a maid. I will not fall upon you and ravish you, love. That can come later, after you have learned to ravish me. Love play is a sport where both must enjoy the arousal and the fulfillment, or the pleasure is greatly diminished.”
He lifted a tress of her hair, breathed deeply of its fragrance, then watched as it curled possessively about his fingers. “I must dispel this notion that I possess magic power. I do not, Brianna,” he murmured. “At a very early age I was given over to the care of the Hospitaler Knights of St. John. When I was old enough, I was initiated into the Mystic Order of the Golden Dawn, men who were mostly Knights Templar gone underground when the order was forbidden. I was taught to harness the power that every human possesses. Through constant training and practice I was taught to enhance, magnify, and control the power within that is lost to so many because it is never used.
“It is a simple exercise of mind over matter. The brain should control the body and the emotions rather than the other way about. It is priceless training for knighthood. In battle it allows you to focus on the victory rather than the pain. When the mind is totally focused, the perception of time slows to permit you to see clearly and perceive your enemy’s every move. When you have learned control, it benefits every other aspect of your life. Do you imagine I could be here like this unless I had supreme control of myself?”
Brianna smiled a secret smile. She wanted to shatter his control and would before too many moons had waned. It was extremely erotic to lie naked before him while they conversed. Brianna’s murmur was as husky as his. “What of your visions?”
“Everyone is capable of visions. It is simply a matter of developing your sixth sense. You are beginning to experience them, my love.” It was not a question. She silently acknowledged that this was true. “In the tournament you wore sable armor and jousted for Prince Edward.”
Christian’s eyes widened. Brianna was beginning to perceive that which was hidden. “You will make an apt pupil. I will teach you every nuance of lovemaking, then we will go on from there.”
Brianna swept her tongue across lips gone suddenly dry and Christian had to put an iron clamp on his rising desire.
“What of that day in the forest? Your magic made the princess’s food bitter.”
He smiled patiently and shook his head. “Not magic power, merely a magician’s trick. My mind is much stronger than hers. By the power of suggestion her food tasted bitter. It was not actually bitter. I cannot alter the very taste or smell of things—only their perception.”
“Is your mind stronger than mine?” she asked breathlessly.
“Sometimes yes, oftimes, no. If it were otherwise, you would have warmed my bed from the first night I saw you.”
Her cheeks tinted delicately and he stretched out a finger to touch the tiny black dot upon her cheekbone. “One night you turned from me in my vision and I glimpsed the twin to this witch-mark.”
Her blush deepened. “Beauty mark,” she corrected.
He shook his head. “I know you for witch, beloved.”
His words pleased her. Perhaps she was. She had assuredly conjured his vision when she was curious about the strange object on his thigh. Brianna sat firmly upon her witch-mark, knowing it tempted him or he would not have spoken of it. Their eyes met in amusement as they discerned each other’s thoughts.
“Perhaps it is time I revealed all, as you so generously have done.”
Brianna caught her breath as he stood to remove his chausses. She stared at him in fascinated horror. The shaft of his male weapon was engorged to a great length and thickness, jutting from its sable forest. Beneath, on the inside of his thigh, stretched the black scimitar. Quietly, patiently, he allowed her to look her fill.
Finally she spoke. “Which weapon do your squires refer to as Killbride?”
He threw back his head and his deep laughter rolled out over her. “Those two devils love to amuse themselves at my expense. At Windsor the servant wenches are forever creeping into my chamber, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black obscenity between my legs.”
Brianna could not help herself. She reached out a tentative finger to touch the mysterious object. The skin was raised in a thick welt along the blade, thicker at the handle and she shuddered as she remembered the pain connected with it. “What is it?”
“It is a brand. An initiation rite before I was knighted into the Mystic Order.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Tell me,” she urged, softly.
“After the hot iron was removed, they rubbed black sand into the raw burn. Then I was left alone in the desert to survive or die.”
“The pain was unendurable,” she whispered.
“That’s how I learned to move beyond pain. The lesson was invaluable.”
Brianna avoided looking at his other weapon.
Christian’s mouth curved in understanding. “It doesn’t repel you?” he asked.
“No,” she replied quickly.
“And this?” he asked, indicating his male sex.
“I…I’m not sure. I’m ignorant of such things.”
His heart sang that it was so. “I think perhaps it is time to move beyond talking. I cannot tell you of love, I can only show you.”