Blood Sword Legacy 04 - A Knight to Remember (4 page)

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Did you think I would leave you?” He dropped the rabbit and strode purposely toward her. Mercia caught her breath. Instantly she was in his arms. His lips captured hers in a hard, unyielding kiss. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her softness against his hardness. In that instant she let go. Of everything.

Digging her fingers into his hair, she pulled his mouth to hers, unable to get enough of him. Like a blind man wanting to memorize every part of her, his hands were everywhere. Her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, her back to her bottom, then up her belly to her breasts. His hot touch left a fiery wake, awaking her dark, dormant sensuality. He pulled her down to the furs, sinking with her onto the softness. Mercia moaned as his lips and tongue plundered hers, his hands cupped and caressed her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples to stiffness. Wild abandon filled her, coiling tightly inside, wanting to be released. The power of his touch terrified her as much as it aroused her in a way she never thought possible. She arched against his lips as he sucked a nipple through the thick cloth of her chemise. Moaning, she closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. He pulled her clothing from her and untied his braise. When next he touched her, they were as naked as Adam and Eve. He swept a large hand down her belly and pressed his palm to her warm mons. “Rowena,” he breathed. “You are every man’s dream.”

Her eyes flew open. His eyes had darkened to black, but they burned hot with passion. When he said her sister’s name, guilt washed over her. She wanted to hear
her
name roll from his lips in such sweet passion. She bit her lip, almost telling him the truth. But she did not want to spoil the moment. And besides, ‘twould not matter in the morn. She could not come back here. For if she did she would never leave.

“And you, milord, are every girl’s dream.”

He smiled that sensual smile that melted her heart, and lowered his lips to her breast. She gasped as his lips touched the swell, his tongue was hot, his teeth nibbled. His hand pressed more firmly between her thighs. Her entire body quaked in tension, the feel of his hands and lips against her body so sublime she thought she would faint from the pleasure of it. He kissed her nipple. Mercia gasped. The sensation nearly undid her.

But what made her swoon was the delicious sensation of utter sublimity as he slid a long, thick finger along her slick nether lips, then gently rubbed against the hard, hooded nub hidden there. “Dear Lord,” she gasped. Her body thrummed with awareness. When he touched her there, it was if he caressed her entire body. Wave after wave of desire burned through her. He suckled her breast, while his finger explored deeper into her. Such an intimate touch. So close they were, so delirious was she. Her thighs tightened around his hand. She held her breath, unsure if she could endure more. Because instinctively she knew there was more. And more would beget more.

“I will be gentle, Rowena, relax,” he softly said against her breast. She wanted to, desperately, but knew if she allowed him further trespass, there would be no returning. His lips traveled from her breast to her shoulder, then to the bend in her neck. He laved his teeth along her vital vein up to her jaw. His hand replaced his lips on her breast as his lips once again claimed hers.

In slow, savoring kisses, he drew her with him. His hand on her mons did not push, nor did it retreat; instead, he kept a steady pressure. His kisses drowned any fleeting reservations; slowly, she relaxed against him and parted her thighs.

When his finger slid gently into her, her hot wetness allowing him easy entry, she moaned. He stiffened against her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Jesu, you are tight, Rowena. I fear I will hurt you.”

She did not understand what he meant. She only understood she did not want him to stop what he was doing. “You could never hurt me,” she whispered, pressing her hips against his hand.

He groaned and slid his finger deeper into her. She caught her breath, the feeling so incredibly delicious she wished she could remain suspended like this for all time. In a slow rhythm, he moved his finger in and out of her, his thumb rubbing the wetness around the hardened nub in a slick cadence that set her poised to shoot to the stars. Her breath came shallow, as his fingers moved back and forth, the rhythm quickening. He kissed her long and deep. His body warmed and grew slick with sweat. When he took a nipple into his mouth and lightly bit her, she screamed as a harsh wave of something she had never knew existed crashed hard inside her body, as wave after wave of intense pleasure overcame her.

Panic overtook her. She was shocked, and awed, and terrified. What had he done to her body? Limp as a rag, she hung in his arms, her body as slick with sweat as his. He smiled down at her in silent wonder. She licked her dry lips. “What did you do to me?” she breathlessly asked.

His deep eyes were serious, not what she expected. A frown worried his brow. “Did I disappoint you?” she asked, suddenly feeling inadequate.

For a long time he stared at her, so long she became increasingly uncomfortable. She squirmed beneath him. “Please, do not look at me so.”

He shook his head and smiled, his bright teeth glowed in the low fire. He smoothed the hair back from her face. She could smell her sex on his hand. Embarrassment flared hot.

“Never apologize to me for what just happened. ‘Twas beautiful, Rowena. You looked as if I gave you the greatest gift a man could give a woman.”

More heat washed across her cheeks. “I want more,” she boldly demanded.

His smile nearly split his face in two. He moved his hips against her side. He was full, hard, and warm. She reached out and touched him. When he hissed in a sharp breath, she recoiled. “Did I hurt you?”

He laughed low and took her hand in his, then guided it back to his cock. “Aye, I ache because of you. And only you can relieve the hurt.”

In silent fascination, she wrapped her fingers around the girth of him. He was warm, hard, and surprisingly smooth. She rubbed her thumb over the soft fleshy tip to find it slick. She moved to look. He hissed in another sharp breath. Innocently she looked up at him. “It looks painful, milord. How can I make it go away?”

He rolled over onto her. “Make love to me, Ro. Then and only then will the ache subside.”

She dug her fingers into his long hair, pulled his lips to hers, and parted her thighs, offering herself up to him. Gently he probed, the wide head of him pushing easily into her slick folds. Mercia held her breath as he pushed further in, then gasped as a sharp pain shot through her. He caught her cry in his kiss, but continued his slow gentle entry. For a tense moment, Mercia lay stiff beneath him, unsure of what other pain would follow. “’Twill not hurt again,” he promised. “Relax, love, relax and give me all of you.”

Mercia loosened her thighs, then the muscles in her back. He pressed deeper into her until he was as deep as he could go. He did not move for several long moments, allowing her body to become accustomed to him. She felt the pulse of his heart beat inside her, and found a true glory in it. Every part of her thrummed with desire, white-hot passion. Every part of her wanted more of what he had given her. Every part of her never wanted him to release her.

Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she moved against him. When he pulled slowly away from her, she cried out. When he thrust into her, she screamed. He covered her noise with his lips, and with his tongue, he mimicked the slow, sensual slide of his hips against hers. He took her on a wild ride, the thunder and excitement of their bodies oblivious to only themselves and the heat they generated. Sparks flew like embers from the Beltane fires. Wild and heady and headlong into a furious frenzy of desire.

Never had she imagined the joining of a man and woman could be so glorious. So addictive, so deliciously pure in its glory as she felt with this stranger, a man she would forever be bound to by this one act alone.

In one cataclysmic moment, her body shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The magnitude of her release sent her plunging from the heavens into the stars. Mercia gasped, gulping for air, her lungs expanding, needing it to survive. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, fearful if she let go she would float away. All around her she felt the stranger’s body quicken, then tighten just as hers had, and then he too shattered.

“Rowena!” he called, his voice husky in passion. He gathered her to him, as his body spasmed and jerked against hers. As they both floated back to the earth, their slick heat cooled, their heavy breaths slowed, their bodies still joined remained motionless as each of them savored what had just occurred.

*

He did not know his name, nor his heritage, nor did he know if he possessed a wife or a title, but what he did know was that no matter how many women he had had in his lifetime, never had he been taken to such heights as he had gone to with the lovely innocent Rowena. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She was just a mite but she had the heart of a lioness. Her body was smooth, supple, and sensuous. And he had been her first. He wanted with all his heart to be her one and only for the rest of their time on earth. He frowned, the feelings foreign. He knew instinctively he was not a man to lose himself over a woman. He knew in his heart he had closed a door, but she had kicked it wide open. His arms tightened around her.

A small squeak erupted from her. Instantly he loosened his hold. He looked down at her parted lips and her flushed cheeks, still damp from their lovemaking. His cock tingled inside her. He was young and virile. He wanted her again. Now. He bent down and kissed her nose. Then her long thick eyelashes that shaded eyes the color of the Irish sea. Her long, honey-colored hair hung in thick damp chunks between them. He smoothed it away to look at her. He smiled when her nipples puckered. He glanced up at her face to find her wondrous gaze upon him. His cock thickened.

“Do not look at me so, my sweet, or you will find yourself at my mercy.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I do not mind.”

Her words fueled his hunger for her. She gasped as he filled inside her. His lips dropped to hers; hungrily he kissed her, wanting all of her, here, now. Forever. He took her again, and then once more before exhaustion claimed them both.

The baying of a hound broke the early morning silence. He sat up with a start, instinctively reaching for his sword that was not there. Rowena stood, grabbing her worn clothing to her breast. “I must go!” she cried, panicked. Moving to the opening of the cave, he watched as a search party of sorts scoured the beaches. He frowned. The boar standard of one of the horsemen tugged at his memory. His head ached in a sudden wash of pain. Absently, he rubbed the back of his head. The bump, though reduced, still pained him.

“I must go,” Rowena said softly. She looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “I cannot return.” She stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. His arms encircled her, drawing her close.

“Nay,” he whispered against her lips. “I cannot let you go when I have just found you.”

She pulled from his embrace. “We cannot continue. Please do not follow me.” She moved past him, but he grabbed her to his chest. Heat filled his body.

“You are mine, Rowena!” he shouted, louder than he intended. “I will not release you!”

His voice carried a sharp authority that came as natural to him as his dark hair.

She gasped at the ferocity of his outburst, but shook her head. “Nay, I am not.” She pressed her lips to his one last time. As she drew away from him she softly said, “We can never be. I am promised to another.” Then she turned and ran from the cave. He ran after her, but stopped short when the men on horseback approached her.

Were they a threat to him?
Was
he a pirate? Would she reveal his hiding place? He moved back into the shelter of the cave, but watched. She shook her head and pointed down the beach. The group of men took off at a gallop. She turned and looked up at him. For one long moment, he thought she would come back to him. He moved outside the cave. Her body jerked when she saw him.

“Rowena!” he called and ran toward her. She turned from him and ran. And in that instant of clarity he remembered. Dinefwr, sailing for Wendover to claim his bride. The pirate attack, then the storm that destroyed them all. He was Rhodri of Dinefwr! A prince! And she, Lady Rowena, was his betrothed! Elation filled him.

His men! They searched for him! He whooped and threw sand up into the air. He hurried back into the cave and donned the meager clothing she had brought for him. With hope and love flying high in his heart, Rhodri took off down the beach to find his men. Anticipation burned in his belly, creating a nervousness he had never experienced. This night would find him wed and abed with his secret angel.

*

Six

“Mercia! Where have ye been?” Lord Cedric demanded, as she hurried up the dirt path to the manor. He cuffed her harshly when she passed him without a word. He yanked her hair so hard her feet flew from beneath her. His red face puffed in fury. “Where have ye been, wench?”

She could only shake her head as she came to her feet. She could not tell him. He would see her nailed to the manor doors. Knowing the one thing her father could not abide by was tears, she broke down and flung herself into his arms. He immediately recoiled. “Off me, girl!’’ He turned to Agatha, who stood nearby wringing her hands. “Take her, old woman, and see her to bed. Do not let her out of yer sight!”

Mercia’s heart broke into a million tiny pieces. The pain so great she did not know if she could survive it. Never had she thought such emotions hid inside her. Never had she thought she could love so deeply. Never had she dreamed of a man such as the dark stranger she had run from.

Agatha steered her into her chamber. Mercia refused to allow herself to be undressed. His scent clung to her clothes, to her hair, to her skin. She would never bathe again. She wanted always to be surrounded by him. Her tears for her father had been a ruse, but now they flowed freely, hot and thick, unending. Rowena’s weak attempts to soothe her sister went unwarranted. Agatha’s insistence she eat was ignored. As the sun rose, Mercia’s heart sunk into the deepest, darkest pit of despair.