Chapter 24 #2
Rowen rose and found her mouth, their kiss deep and hungry. Her fingers slid into his thick hair, loosening the tie. Her pulse galloped as she slid her forehead against his, their breath mingling.
“I want you inside me, Rowen,” she whispered against his lips, her voice rough with need.
A low moan escaped him. Gathering her in his strong arms, he brought her down to the floor. He freed himself, and, lifting her skirts, she slid her legs around his hips.
Her heart beat hard in her chest as it had that first time in the woods, only now she knew the way of desire, she knew…and wanted it now in a way she had never known before.
Her hands pressed against his damp, rigid back as Rowen entered her slowly, carefully. They breathed together in the hush of twilight.
“Zandra…”
“Go on, go on.” Her voice trembled as he filled her slick tightness. She released a breath, willing her body to ease.
Groaning, he proceeded. She adjusted, drawing him deeper still, and at last he was fully within her.
“Oh, Rowen, yes…” Heat unraveled inside her.
They moved together. Giving, yielding. Searching, claiming.
His muscles tightened, vibrating through her as his pace quickened.
Her heart seemed to lift from her chest, suspended in that ardent tension.
Her fingernails dug into his back as she surrendered to the wave of sensation sweeping through her.
A deep sound rumbled inside him, wrenching from him, and his cock jerked inside her, his body shuddering against hers. Clutching each other, they spun in a rush of pleasure.
They lay entwined on the floor, and a soft smile swept her mouth.
At last.
She brushed her lips against his hair, and he lifted his face to her, his features relaxed, his hand gently stroking her thigh.
The fire had gone out and the chill in the room prickled over her bare skin.
Together, they set their clothing to rights.
He knelt to fit her shoes on her feet. She touched his jaw, and he met her gaze.
Rising, he wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, his touch lingering.
His scent of spice and warm skin filled her.
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. “Walk with me?”
With her arm in his, he led her down one of the many hallways, the polished stone floors echoing softly with their every step.
Suddenly, a long, vaulted chamber opened before them with enormous arched windows which, during the day, flooded the space with light. Now it was in full darkness and quiet.
The flare of a torch. Rowen hung it on the wall. The glow of its light revealed the Oakley sculpture gallery.
She had only visited this room once before and had gotten lost in this beautiful sea of marble and stone.
Now, in the darkness, it became a mysterious spectacle as Rowen lit the other torches along the wall, and the gallery blazed to life.
She weaved in between the many marble busts and full-figured sculptures.
Mythical creatures, historical figures, and Oakley ancestors.
“My great-grandfather was a renowned patron of the arts, as was his son, and my father. In fact, my father sponsored a number of painters to come to England from abroad to paint murals here in the house, and portraits for his friends, and to exhibit their work in London.”
“They are magnificent.”
“I myself brought back a number of small pieces while on my Tour. These terracotta casts from Rome, and—”
“And the small pieces in the library?”
“Yes.” His lips curved into a smile. “I hope to continue.”
“May I?” she gestured at the smooth stone leg of the god Aries in full battle regalia.
“Of course.”
Her fingers touched the stone and stroked Aries’ thigh, a grin sweeping over her lips. “Remarkable.”
“There’s something over here you might find more remarkable. Come.”
He led her to the far end of the chamber, to the right, past a trio of stone goddesses playing their stone lyres. “Here. Close your eyes….” His hands covered her eyes. His voice was rich with expectation, a hint of desire. “See for yourself,” he said and released her.
Her eyes widened.
On a pedestal in a corner of the gallery a statue of Diana, the goddess of the hunt.
She wore a serious expression, her noble visage focused on a point in the distance.
She was on a hunt. Her one hand reached back into her arrow pack while her other prepared to raise her bow.
At her side was a deer in movement, looking up at his mistress with adoration and regard.
Cassandra stilled, her smile fading, her heart striking dully in her chest. The exhilaration of moments ago receded.
Diana had been her childhood hero. Under her mother’s encouragement, she’d learned the skills of archery, the one sport permitted a girl. And after her parents’ deaths, she had clung to the discipline with fierce devotion.
She had once believed she might live as freely as this goddess did. Once she had believed herself as fearless and bold as this stone figure.
Tears gathered in her eyes for the first time in weeks. Her jaw hardened against them. Now, the triumph and surety of that Cassandra was gone.
Diana, protector of chastity. Champion of fertility.
Denied to her.
The smooth white marble gleamed in the torchlight. Flesh, however, is so very vulnerable, so fragile, she thought.
“Is she not magnificent?” Rowen’s voice, eager and alive, broke through the web of her thoughts. “My agent discovered her outside of Rome. I had to have her—for you, Zandra.”
Her chest sank. A magnificent gift. And Diana—magnificent. Defiant and self-possessed, her form taut with vitality and promise. Once Rowen had seen something of Diana in her. His blue eyes gleamed in the torchlight. He still did.
But she was no longer that woman, and she was not the true Duchess that she had always imagined she would be to her husband—the Duchess his title needed her to be.
She could no longer provide Oakley with the heir it required.
The future she had once assumed secure had fallen away.
There could be no returning to what had been.
Cassandra’s lips parted but no words came.
Rowen’s smile faded, his head drew back. “I had thought you would—”
“She is exquisite,” she finally managed. Turning away, she left the gallery.
Rowen did not follow.
Behind her, the light of the torches dimmed, swallowed slowly by the night.