Chapter 16 #2
His touch was so tender and previously unshed tears spilled onto my cheeks.
He pulled my skirts up, and I shifted my knees apart.
I shivered at the exquisite sensation of a light fingertip which ran along the inside of my leg, stopping to stroke me tenderly where my thighs met.
A rush of warmth flooded my body, and I parted my thighs with a sob of resignation.
He hushed me gently as a mother would a crying babe and slipped a finger inside me, releasing a shockwave of pleasure.
I cried out as my whole body shook with it.
He kneeled up and drew me to him, holding my hips firmly in his hands, until the head of his thick member brushed against my center, which throbbed with need.
Then, with a low growl, he claimed my body with a swift thrust, and I wrapped my legs around him to pull him deeper inside.
I reached out, and he took my hands, our fingers interlocking.
My body dissolved as waves of pure pleasure shook me.
He increased the pace and I sobbed aloud, begging him not to stop, then I heard him shout his own pleasure.
Our twin cries echoed into the night, before fading until nothing remained except the sound of our breathing. I lay back fully sated, and opened my eyes. His own eyes, almost black in the dim light, were wide open, staring at me in surprise and wonder.
He uncurled his fingers from mine. Eyes fixed on me, he eased my skirt back down before pulling his chausses up.
Without a word, he rolled me onto my side and pulled the blanket over us both.
His heart beat a gentle rhythm against my body, and his soft voice whispered my name.
He stroked my hair before taking my hand, moving it to cradle my belly where our child slept peacefully within. I closed my eyes, my body at peace.
Before I fell asleep, I realized I had cried out a name as I came to pleasure. Not Tarvin’s, but another name.
Vane.
The crackling of the fire penetrated my sleep, and a voice called my name.
“Lady Lisetta!”
It was the voice of a young man. He sat before me, his youthful face bathed in red light; sightless eyes trained on me. He turned his head, and the red light glowed more brightly; thick, scarlet liquid which poured down his face.
Percy.
The crackling turned into a deep roar and two voices joined Percy’s.
“Lady!”
“Daughter!”
Maman and Harwyn sat beside him. The flames were closer now, the heat scorching my skin. Maman held up her hand, blistered and blackened, and she opened her mouth to scream, the shrill sound cutting through my dreams.
“Maman—no! Don’t leave me!” I cried, reaching out to her, but I was bound tightly and unable to move.
She gripped my hand and the flames engulfed me. My flesh began to melt until the bone gleamed through it. Maman opened her mouth wide and flames shot out with a piercing screech…
“Wake up!” another voice broke through as I struggled against my bonds. I thrashed my limbs, fighting to free myself until a resounding crack brought me to my senses.
Sawford held me in his arms, crushing me against his chest.
“I saw them!” I cried, looking around in panic. “Mon Dieu—the fire!”
“We’re alone here. The fire is almost out.”
He spoke the truth. The night was still, the only sound the occasional sputter from the dying embers.
I sat up as he released me to place another piece of wood on the fire.
He blew on it gently until a small flame burst into life.
Had I not been so distressed I might have laughed at the sight of a man conjuring up a flame in a world where the women—not the men—were persecuted for witchcraft.
“Who did you see?”
“Maman, Harwyn, and…” I choked, “…Percy.”
He sighed and sat beside me, taking my hand, but I pulled it away.
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Aye, it does!”
He shook his head. “It was not my hand on the axe.”
“But you gave the order?”
“Aye.”
“Dear God.” I hung my head.
“You weep for him?” Sawford did not attempt to hide the anger from his voice.
“He was my friend.”
Sawford’s jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth at my words.
“His death was necessary.”
“Necessary?” I cried. “To take an innocent life?”
“We’re none of us innocent,” he growled.
“That young whelp placed you in danger with his attentions, and he died because of your foolish indiscretion. You’re as much to blame for his death as any other.
You were content to play the lady, ignoring the harsh realities of the world with little thought for the lives of others. ”
“I did not murder him!”
“If you remember; I warned you,” he said, coldly. “His blood is on your hands.”
He held out his hand. “Come, wife. Let us return to our bed. We have a long day travelling tomorrow, and I need my sleep. I have no wish to be disturbed again by your foolishness.”
“Then sleep elsewhere,” I said, drawing my knife, but he shook his head.
“I think not.”
I thrust my knife toward him, but he caught my wrist.
“You think that pathetic little blade can stop me?”
He squeezed my wrist until I dropped the knife. Immediately he picked it up and handed it back.
“Next time you draw that blade be prepared to use it. I will not show leniency again.”
He bent down swiftly, and I jerked back in fright, but he merely laughed.
“Have no fear, madam; I will not touch you again tonight.”
He picked up a blanket and, turning his back on me, moved toward the horse.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He kept his back to me as he sat down, drawing the blanket around him.
“Sleeping. I suggest you do the same. We rise with the sun.”
Sickened at the feelings I had begun to experience for Sawford, I huddled under my blanket. But the image of Percy’s face still haunted me and sleep eluded me for a long time.
When I woke, the fire had gone out, and a thin film of mist hung in the air. The sun struggled to pierce the clouds and I prayed it would not rain.
I sat up, stiff, sore, and tired from lack of sleep. As soon as I moved, a piece of meat was dropped on the ground before me.
“The last of the food. Eat it quickly.”
I nibbled at the meat, grateful for something to ease my grumbling stomach. The sickness from being with child had passed but would return if I went too long without eating. I swallowed the meat, and a wave of nausea struck me. Leaning forward, I took a deep breath until it subsided.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder, and the waterskin was pushed into my hand.
“Drink,” he said quietly, “it will make you feel better.”
I snatched it from him ,and he sighed before sitting beside me, tearing at the joint of meat in his hand with his teeth like a man starved.
His features had changed from the softness I had seen in repose the day before.
The hard, shuttered expression had returned.
The fragile bond between us had been broken, and the wall had regained its height.
“Might I ask where we are going—husband?”
He appeared not to hear me and sat chewing thoughtfully before he sighed and tossed the bone into the ashes of the fire.
“We go to stay with my brother and his wife. With luck we should arrive before the onset of winter.”
“You have a brother?”
“I had two.”
“Had?”
“My youngest brother is dead.”
“I am sorry,” I said. “How did he die?”
“Over a woman,” Sawford replied. “You make fools of us all. Ask me no more. We leave now.”
He’d not spoken of his family before, but his clipped speech and angry gaze prevented me from voicing my curiosity, and we spent the day in silence.
As the sun broke through the clouds, we rested beside a stream where I washed my face and filled the waterskins. Our food had run out and Sawford was unable to catch anything to eat. I dared not ask how soon our journey would end.