Chapter 18
Heather remained as she was, staring at the door.
Had she seen a shadow, or had it been her imagination?
No one knew she had come up here. No guard had followed her, unless the shadow was a guard who had been following her all along.
But if it was no guard, then who was it? The culprit who stalked the keep?
Look for anything you can use as a weapon.
Her sister Patience’s voice rang loud in her head, and she was relieved to be reminded of what her sister had once taught her and Emma. Heather quickly scanned the room.
Nothing large and cumbersome that can easily be taken away from you.
She kept her sister’s advice in mind as her eyes continued to search. She smiled when she spotted the bone needle tucked in an unfinished piece of embroidery. It was small enough to conceal in her hand, but deadly enough when jabbed in someone’s eye.
Heather approached the open door cautiously, wishing she had a torch or some type of light to illuminate the small area outside the door.
The torch in the wall sconce did not burn bright enough to light the small area sufficiently, but if she could grab it and shine it on the shadows it would chase them away and reveal. ..what?
With her heart pounding hard in her chest and her hand trembling slightly, she reached the open door. She could do this. Had her sisters not complained of her quickness when chasing after them and catching them when they were young and unruly?
She could do this. She would reach the sconce, and not only would it cast light on the darkness, but it would prove useful as another weapon if necessary.
Not letting her fear stop her, Heather rushed out of the room and grabbed the torch from the sconce and swung it around, chasing the darkness away to reveal... She released the breath she had not realized she had been holding. There was no one there. She was alone.
She smiled, though her heart continued to pound against her chest. She returned the torch to the wall sconce and turned to find the darkness laying claim to the area once again. She entered the room, satisfied that the shadows had played a trick on her.
She stopped a few feet in when she heard the squeak of the door closing behind her and a tremble rippled over her, but it was when the door shut, and she heard the latch click that fear gripped her.
She slipped the needle into place in her hand just as she felt a warm breath on the back of her neck.
Heather turned quickly, hoping to catch the culprit off guard and raised her hand ready to strike.
Rhys grabbed her hand, twisting it, forcing her to drop whatever it was she held, then yanked her up against him. “You could be in a dire situation right now, if it was someone other than me.”
Heather gave her husband a hard shove, not that it did much good. He did not budge, so she took a few steps away from him. “How dare you frighten me like that?”
“How dare you disobey me again,” Rhys snapped.
“I remained in the keep.”
“I ordered you to remain where you were.”
“That still does not give you cause to frighten me,” she said, shaking her finger at him.
“Do not point your finger at me, wife,” he ordered.
“Then do not give me cause to,” she said, continuing to shake her finger at him the whole time.
Rhys was on her in less than a blink of an eye, his hand grabbing and consuming the offending finger in his grasp. “I am warning you, wife, tread lightly or you will—”
“Or what?” she shouted the anger that bubbled inside her now and then throughout the years suddenly erupting, spewing forth before she could contain it. “Punish me? Make me suffer? Do what you will, for I will not now or ever be an obedient wife.”
Rhys rested his face close to hers. “And so your descent into darkness begins with anger displacing your sweet kindness.”
Heather laughed softly. “The Dragon is blind, for where he sees anger, I see courage.”
His dark eyes heated. “Watch your tongue, wife.”
“Or what? Will you cut it out?”
“Never, for I want the pleasure of feeling your tongue lick my hard manhood until I spill my seed.” His hand grabbed roughly between her legs. “And my tongue will be sure to return the favor.”
Heather brought her lips close to his and whispered, “Promise?”
Her response shocked Rhys and he felt his loins turn hard. His hand shot up and grabbed the back of her neck and held her firm as his lips descended on hers.
There was no tenderness in his kiss and Heather did not care. She had hungered for it since he had made her come in the solar. And she wanted to come again, only this time she wanted him inside her. She wanted what she had waited so long for...to make love with Quinn.
Rhys felt his need for her grow out of control. He did not even want to wait and strip her bare. He wanted to hike her skirt up and bury himself deep inside her until they both were breathless and spent.
He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him and grabbed hold of his shoulders as he walked over to a waist-high chest and sat her on it while continuing to kiss her.
He ripped at her blouse, freeing her breasts and squeezing one plump breast then the other, before teasing the nipples hard for him to enjoy.
She let out a soulful moan when his mouth left hers, but it soon turned to a pleasurable one when his tongue settled over her nipple to suckle it.
Her passion soared and so did her need to touch him.
She reached over his shoulders and grabbed his shirt, yanking it up and he lifted his head so that she could pull it off him.
His tongue returned to her nipple and her hands roamed down his back, feeling his muscles grow taut at her touch, and she grew impatient. She wanted him inside her.
She grabbed the sides of her skirt and yanked them up, spreading her legs as she did. She leaned down, her lips near his ear. “Please, I need you inside me now.”
Rhys raised his head and took a step back, his fingers going to the ties at his waist to free himself when he suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped.
This was not right, taking her for the first time here on top of a dusty chest. This was not what he wanted for her, not what he had planned, and not what he had waited for.
He stepped back, yanking her skirt down as he did.
Heather stared at him. What had happened? Had she done something wrong?
“This will wait until tonight,” he said, stepping away from her.
“Why?”
“Because I command it,” he snapped.
“I have waited long enough. I want you now,” she demanded.
“No!” he shouted and walked to the door afraid he would lose control and take her like he would a common wench who wanted nothing more than a fast rutting. He stopped by the door. “We are leaving here. Now cover yourself.”
Heather jumped off the chest, ignoring his command and leaving her breasts free. “You may be, but I am not.”
“You will do as I say,” he ordered sharply.
“Make me,” she challenged her unrequited passion urging her on.
Rhys glared at her and seeing the flush to her face, her lips plump with passion, her nipples hard and her eyes hungry, he said, “Are you sure you want it this way?”
“Must the Dragon truly ask permission?’
Rhys felt the darkness awaken inside him and felt dangerous memories he fought to keep locked away begin to surface and inflame his loins. He walked toward her and when he reached her, he ripped her blouse and skirt off her, saying, “I will have you naked when I take you.”
He lifted her and once again sat her on the dusty chest, then tore at the ties at his waist and freed himself, his manhood bursting free. He grabbed her about the waist and brought her forward to balance at the edge of the chest, but it was not his manhood that entered her, but his finger.
She protested while trying to squirm away. “I want you.”
“Challenge the Dragon, wife, and you pay the price.”
Heather gasped as he held her firm, and his finger continued to tease her. But it was when his mouth descended between her legs to torment the sensitive bud with his tongue that her head fell back and she moaned so loudly it echoed off the stone walls.
She was going to come; she could feel the climax growing ever stronger. She shoved at his shoulders. “Please, Rhys, please, I want you inside me,” she begged.
He stopped, though his finger lingered inside her, teasing her ever so lightly, keeping her on the edge of climax. “You think to challenge me?”
Heather saw darkness like no other in his eyes. It swirled and gathered like a raging storm about to unleash its fury, and she knew she had foolishly stirred the Dragon from his dark nest.
She reached out, resting her hand gently against his cheek. “I do not wish to challenge you, husband. I wish for you to make love to me and finally make me your wife.”
Husband. The word sunk deep into Rhys and he shut his eyes for a moment, forcing the Dragon back down into the darkness, anger and passion—a dangerous combination—having awakened him.
Only when he had safely returned the beast to his slumber, did Rhys open his eyes.
“Never stir the Dragon again, for the beast has no soul and when fully unleashed he will not care what he does.”
Rhys lifted her off the chest and after arranging his own garments, retrieved his shirt from the floor and slipped it over Heather’s head to cover her. He then took her hand and tugged her along behind him as he descended the stairs to their bedchamber.
“This time stay where I put you,” he ordered curtly and left her there alone.
Heather sunk down on the floor, tears clouding her eyes. What had she done? She had been desperate to make love with Quinn, never realizing she would have to battle the Dragon to do so. A tear slipped down her cheek. Now what did she do?
She hugged herself, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of the Dragon drifted up off his shirt and wrapped around her possessively. It intoxicated her senses, just like his touch had, turning her vulnerable in his hands. Or was it her love for Quinn that had turned her vulnerable?
She stood and hugged the shirt to her, favoring the feel of it against her soft skin, for it felt like he was caressing her. She shook her head and stripped the shirt off and as she tossed it aside, the door opened, and her husband walked in.
Rhys stared at her for a moment, then turned his head to peer past the partially open door and said, “I will kill any man who disturbs me.” He shut the door and dropped the latch, then shed his garments, and walked over to her.
His arms shot out, scooping her up so fast that she let out a gasp.
“Now, Heather, I make you my wife—my way.”
He laid her on the bed, going down alongside her, and reaching out he let his fingers play across her soft skin ever so lightly, skimming her nipples that turned harder with each faint touch.
Gooseflesh ran over her when he grazed her nipples and she shivered when his fingers swept across the sensitive nub hidden in the triangle of blond hair between her legs. He was laying claim to every inch of her, and she did not mind, for she had surrendered her heart to him many years ago.
“Turn over,” he said, and she did.
His fingers continued to explore her, though this time his lips followed suit, kissing and nipping at the back of her neck, and along her shoulders as his fingers found their way down over her buttocks to squeeze it gently.
He did not ask her to turn over again, his arm went around her waist and with one swift turn he had her on her back.
She reached out, needing to do some of her own exploring and ran her fingers over his chest. He grabbed her hand when she moved to explore lower and stretched it above her head, then settled his lips on hers. His kiss was gentle, and she responded in kind.
He released her hand and began to explore her again and her body responded, arching up demanding more from him. When his fingers finally teased between her legs, she felt her passion spark in anticipation, but again his touch remained tender.
She grew more eager as he slipped over her and spread her legs with his knee before settling between them.
“I mean you no pain,” he whispered as his hard manhood probed between her legs.
Heather spread her legs wider, eager for him to plunge inside her and make her come harder than she had in his solar. But he did not plunge inside her. He entered her slowly and Heather felt her impatience mount. Finally with a sudden thrust, she arched her back, forcing him deep inside her.
She let out a small cry and he stopped all movement.
“Do not stop,” she begged, wanting more from him...much more.
Rhys did as she asked, keeping his rhythm firm and steady and when her fingers dug into his arms and she cried out his name, he knew she was ready to come. He quickened his rhythm and no sooner as he did, she cried out his name once again.
Heather felt the climax hit her and while it felt wonderful, it was not as strong as what she had experienced in his solar earlier.
She continued to move against him as if she had not gotten enough, as if something was missing.
She thought she felt Rhys come, his body tightening, but she could not be sure, for he made no sound.
He rolled off her soon after and as he lay beside her, she thought how lovely and how tender he had been with her just as she had imagined Quinn would be. She had imagined this moment often throughout the years.
She turned on her side and Rhys turned as well, tugging her against him and holding her firm as if he feared she would escape him.
He spoke not a word to her and none came to her as well.
She hoped sleep would claim her soon for her thoughts disturbed her.
But sleep claimed Rhys first, avoiding her completely.
A single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. She loved Quinn. She had loved him from the first time she had laid eyes on him and he had once told her that he had felt the same. Nothing would ever change that love, then why was it that she wanted the Dragon in her bed?