“What, no mints?” Ryder asked.
He dropped Arleigh to the rug in front of the hearth. She glared up at him, but when he ignored her, she rose to her feet, smoothed her lavender dress, and ran her hand up his arm. He glanced at her and began to pull off his belt. She reached down to help him, but he pushed her hands away.
“I’m not buying it, baby,” he said.
“I do not understand,” she said with a smile that practically tore his heart in two.
“No touching,” he said.
“I am meant to be touched,” she said, taking his hand. She pulled it toward her, and his fingers lay against the soft swell of her breast.
“Very tempting,” he said, backing away from her, “but you’re not calling the shots here. I am.”
He dropped his shirt to the floor and slumped onto the bed to pull off his boots. He didn’t think he had ever been so hot in his life. He dripped with sweat. How did these people make it through a day in the heat of summer without air conditioning? The tub of cool water looked refreshing. He unlaced his hose and peeled them off his body. She watched him from the center of the room, her eyes glittering with something that scared him a little.
“Thou art ready,” she said, taking a step toward him.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at his traitorous cock. “Seems I can’t control everything. In this heat, and the way I feel, you should be flattered.”
He staggered to his feet and went to her. He gripped her dress and slowly tugged, pulling it up to her waist. Her tongue swept across her lips, and she leaned toward him. He yanked on the dress and pulled it up and over her head. Her naked body came against him, and he thought for one moment he would lose whatever tug-of-war they were in. Her breasts touched his chest, and heat poured from her body. Her mouth reached for his lips and caught for the briefest of moments. An ache spread through him, and he wondered what kind of fool he really was, but he pulled back and swept her in his arms, dropping her into the tub.
She slipped under the water and came up sputtering and choking. Her wet hair streamed over her face, and she frantically tried to pull it away from her face. He tossed her a sliver of soap.
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “I’m hot and dirty, too.”
He gathered one of the cloths around his waist and sat down at the table to eat what the sisters had provided. The beef, at least it looked like beef, swam in some kind of sauce that looked a little iffy, but turned out to be pretty tasty. The dark brown bread, slathered in thin butter, looked greasy, but a starving man had few options, and he had ceased worrying about cholesterol. He was famished, but he took his time, eating slowly. He watched Arleigh lather her hair and run the soap down her arms, across her legs, over her pussy.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
He concentrated on his plate. He drained a goblet of wine and poured more. She took her sweet time, enjoying the glances he cast her way. She peeked at him each time she ran the soap across her breasts, down her throat.
Finally he stood and walked to the tub. She gave him a smile and tugged the cloth from his waist. He dunked her head under the water. She jerked to the surface, cursing him between sputters. He hauled her to her feet then lifted her out. She tossed wet hair away from her face, shaking her head like a puppy. She grabbed the cloth when he tossed it toward her.
“Be a good girl,” he said. “Sit down and eat. If you try to leave the room, I’ll catch you. So don’t even try.”
She huffed and puffed, stalking across the room as she dried her wet skin. She plunked down naked at the table and stuffed food into her mouth, glowering at him through a tangle of wet hair. He settled into the tub, enjoying the cool liquid, then began to scrub vigorously, sanding away the dirt and grime with the harsh soap. He massaged the soap into his hair and beard, hoping he had not become a haven for lice. When he convinced himself he might be clean, he let his head fall back against the lip of the tub and closed his eyes. With the sweat gone, the itching of the bites had subsided. The room grew quiet. For one single moment he allowed himself to revel in the peace.
Ryder jerked when she touched him, and his eyes flew open. Her fingers ran the soap across his chest, down over his stomach. Her eyes were warm, full of longing and promise. No wonder Flynn had lost his concentration and half his mind. He could almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. Ryder grabbed her wrist.
“No thanks, sweetheart. I’m clean enough.”
He stood and grabbed a cloth quickly, wrapping it around his waist. No use in giving her ideas he couldn’t follow through on. He climbed out of the tub and picked up one of the dressing gowns and laid it around her shoulders. When she made no move to put it on, he pushed her arms into it, like he would do for a child, and tied the sash around her waist. The gown was much too large, and she looked like a young girl, with her hair spread across her shoulders and the gown puddling at her feet. His stomach rolled, a little squeamish. He hoped it was the food.
He poured them each a cup of wine. He held one toward her. She looked puzzled for a moment, then reached for it and took a tentative sip.
“Hast thou the intention to keep me drugged?” she asked. “What be the point in keeping me at all? ’Tis obvious I cannot enchant thee. Thou hath spurned mine every advance.”
Her mouth dropped into a pout. He didn’t know if the pout came from Arleigh or the Leanan sidhe, but he didn’t think it mattered. He had confused her, and that seemed enough. She had given up, lost interest in trying to pursue him. She sipped at her wine.
“’Tis unfathomable to me,” she said. “I am beautiful. I am desirable. Thou art a man. Thy body clearly wants me, and thy heart is open. What power doth thee possess?”
“Willpower, honey,” Ryder said. “Good old American willpower.”
“And thy will cannot be broken?” she asked.
She tried that dazzling sweet smile on him again. He wanted to grab her, peel the dressing gown from her body, bare her smooth skin, run his hands through the damp tangles of her hair, fuck her. He shook it off.
“No,” he said. “I’m very stubborn when I make up my mind.”
She stared into her wine. She seemed to be looking for answers in the dark liquid. She chewed on her lip and finally raised her eyes.
“But I want thee,” she whispered.
“Nice try. Almost convincing. Might want to work on that look, though. You come on a little too strong.”
She pitched the goblet to the floor. It clattered across the stone and bounced against his leg, then smashed into his foot. Wine splashed everywhere, and Ryder hobbled toward the bed, reaching down to rub his foot.
“Goddamn it, Arleigh. Stop being such a brat.”
“Nay,” she shouted, stomping toward him. “Thou wilt bend to my will! I want thee!”
“For what?” he yelled. “Another conquest? So I can be another entry in your catalogue of dead guys? Sorry. I don’t use sex as a weapon, Arleigh. I want more.”
“I can give thee more,” she said. “I can make thy body yearn for—“
“My body belongs to me. I will decide what it gets and when. Got it?”
Her fists clenched. He gripped her wrist and fell back on the bed. She lost her balance and tumbled, falling next to him. The dressing gown fell open to reveal the smooth white flesh of her legs and the dark red shadow within. She slipped her leg against his, and her knee rose, lifting the cloth at his hip. Her arm slipped across his waist, and her fingers loosened the cloth, dipping down inside. He let her pull it away, gritting his teeth. Her hands searched, and her mouth moved next to his ear, whispering that she wanted to be fucked. He wanted to do it.
He settled back on the pillow and slipped the dressing gown over her shoulder. She lifted, allowing him to remove it. He tossed it on the floor then tugged her against him. Her mouth sought his eagerly, but he pulled away.
“Not interested,” he said. “I’m thinking about a nap.”
She fought him for a moment, her body rigid, but she soo
n gave up and nestled against him. Her damp hair felt cool on his skin. He tightened his arm around her. He would never let her go. He didn’t care if she fought him every day of his life. Her lips pressed against his neck, and she murmured something against him, but he barely heard her as he drifted to sleep.
* * * *
Arleigh woke to the sound of birds calling to one another, but they were hesitant songs of good morning, as though reluctant to wake one another. Most were waiting for the sun to peek above the horizon. Arleigh’s eyes fluttered open. Darkness still hovered near the window, but a cool breeze drifted through and lifted the perspiration from her skin. She moved slightly and pulled the sheet over them. The man next to her muttered in his sleep, and his arm came around her waist. She lay back down and let herself be gathered up against him.
Shouldn’t she remember if she had a husband? He seemed infuriating enough to be a husband. He seemed to think he had control over her and treated her like property. She vowed if that had been their relationship, it would be changed. She could not live with a man who thought he could control her.
She found his looks very pleasing. He was easily as handsome as Lord Cardew, and although she had seen this man could have a nasty disposition, he did not seem to have Lord Cardew’s malicious streak. She would have to be thankful for that, at least.
But there was something she did not understand. Lord Cardew had eagerly pursued her, could barely keep his hands off of her, even in the presence of his wife. How had her newly discovered husband managed to ward off the power of the Leanan sidhe spirit? Lady Cardew had been most sure Arleigh would be capable of bending the will of any man and had pleaded with her to use the power against Flynn. She would have done anything for Cullen, even lead her husband to death.
But this man beside her seemed impervious to her charms, and it baffled her. She brushed the hair from his face, and a soft smile touched his lips. Perhaps if she were less contrary, they could find a way to reach some sort of compromise. She might like to try.
She glanced back toward his eyes, and in the darkness, saw a small glint of light. He watched her. His hand moved against the nape of her neck and tangled in her hair. Slowly he pulled her face toward his and kissed her. She lay quietly, afraid to move, afraid he would stop if she dared to breathe. Something like fire spread through her.
His mouth forced hers open, and she willingly surrendered to his kiss. His tongue swept across her lips and stole into her mouth. She could not breathe, and she didn’t care. She reached for him, but he grabbed her hand and held it behind her back, pulling her roughly against him.
“No touching,” he whispered against her lips.
His mouth resumed its work. His lips skimmed her jaw, down her throat, sweeping across her collarbone, lingering at her breasts, teasing and pulling, sucking at the taut flesh that rose eagerly to meet his mouth. Again and again he came back to her mouth, stealing her breath with his lips and tongue. His teeth nipped at her lips, and sharp pain flared at the same time something deep inside her pussy stabbed at her with a pleasure that was almost pain.
She fought against his hand and finally succeeded in wrenching hers away. Her arm went around him, and she pulled at him desperately, drawing his head closer, pressing her mouth more tightly against his. His free hand now swept across her leg and brushed her hip, searching for something. Her legs parted, and she lifted one across his hips, pulling him closer. His hand came between them, and she gasped when he touched her clit, his fingers moving magically around the soft flesh, pressing and circling, feeling the wet folds of her skin, dipping inside her pussy. Slowly, softly, achingly tender.
Arleigh moaned and tucked her face against his neck. His ragged breathing matched her own. His mouth found her breast, licking the soft flesh, pulling it into his mouth, pulling her to pieces. She thought she might be dying, but she let herself be swept to whatever place he wanted to take her. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Not Lady Cardew. Not Flynn. Not the three strange women who lived in this castle. Not this place, or this time, or the fact that she knew nothing of who she was. Nothing mattered but this man, this man who claimed to be her husband. She wanted to belong to him. She felt she had always belonged to him.
She throbbed with her want for him. Her body needed to feel him, to hold him, to pull as much of him inside as he could possibly give. They needed to be joined, to mate, to fuck, to be one. They were meant to be together. They would wither and die without one another. What magic had he had cast over her? He had bewitched her, had taken her own magic and turned it against her. Her life held no meaning without him. She felt like she had known him forever, had loved him forever.
She arched against his hand, pressing against his fingers, and he responded, bringing her more pleasure, more pain, more need. When she thought her body could not take one more moment, she shuddered against him, and he pulled her tighter, refusing to stop. He forced her to respond again and again, until she gasped, pleading, begging him to stop.
His mouth caught at hers again, licking the salty sweat from her lips, following a path down her body until he reached the part of her that burned. His mouth locked on her pussy, and he began to torture her once again, his tongue doing to her what his fingers had just finished, sweeping across her clit, dipping into her hot pussy. He brought her such pleasure.
She plunged her hands into his hair, and her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him tightly against her while his lips continued to pull and suck at her, while his tongue lapped at the moisture that dripped from between her thighs. Her body squirmed against him, wanting more, needing more. The spasms that tore through her waxed and waned like a sea tide, and each time, the waves crashed over her with more force, more pleasure, until her body quivered beneath him.
“Ryder,” she whispered.
He came to her, his body full against hers, his mouth coming down on hers. His hard cock nestled between her legs, prodding against her quivering flesh, eager to fill her. But he lay perfectly still against her.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she murmured against his lips.
“Please tell me that I belong to you. That you belong to me.”
“Always,” he said.
“Promise me,” she said. “I will die if you leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” he said. “I’ll never lose you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth, through hell, through time. Believe me, Arleigh.”
“I belong to you. Make me yours again. My body, my heart, my soul, my life. Please, Ryder, I need you to love me again.”
He kissed her and pressed his cock into her, and the memory of his touch, his smell, flooded through her. She had loved this man before in a place other than this, where they had found one another, two hearts searching for the other blindly, without thought, but with a need that tore through the soul. He had found her again, and his face flashed in her memory. The memory of his face was stamped in her mind with more clarity than her image in a mirror. The face reflected his love for her, his anger, disappointment, and pain. Neither of them belonged here, but they belonged to each other.
She wrapped her legs around his, pulling him closer. A soft, gentle lull like the ocean tides swept through her once more. This time they would be swept away together. But before she lost control once again, she needed to say one thing. She caught his face in her hands.
“I love you, Ryder Kendall.”
His kiss was all she needed, but when his tears touched her face, she knew there was more to love than she had ever thought possible.
* * * *
“The girls sent us here, to this place?” Arleigh asked. It was the third time she had asked the same question. “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
He played with her hair. He liked the way it coiled around his wrist. He didn’t want to talk about physics, or metaphysics, or paraphysics. He didn’t know what they were involved in, but it didn’t matter in th
is bed.
“Ryder? Are you listening to me?”
“Sure,” he said. “What happened to that cute little accent of yours? I liked all the thou and thee stuff. It made me feel all masculine and protective. Like King Arthur.”
“King Arthur was not real,” Arleigh said. “This is reality, Ryder. Can’t you try thinking for a minute?”
“I’m having a lot of trouble thinking right now. I missed you. I think I missed you for a very long time.”
“Aye, ’tis that way to me, too,” she said, snuggling against him. “But I still want to know how the girls sent us here. You don’t know?”
“No, they tried to explain, but of course it’s all over my head. I never was the brain of the family. Apparently something to do with Keepers. We’re great to look at, but the brains and the power all go to the girls. All I know is those little witches have some fabulous tricks up their sleeves.”
“But all this time, I thought they were pretending, wishing.”
“Yeah, well, their wishes all seem to come true,” he said. “Now we have to get Fallon and the others to send us back.”
“They can do that?” Arleigh asked.
Ryder laughed. “You haven’t seen Fallon in action. If you think Fiana is tough, you should see this one. Fallon’s the one who started it all. Where her power comes from is beyond me, but she has it, no question of that.”
“My head is spinning,” she said.
“My head hasn’t stopped spinning for weeks,” Ryder said. “But of course, a lot of that has to do with you. I have a feeling there’s a straightjacket at home with my name on it.”
“Whatever that is, you’ll look handsome in it.”
She dropped a kiss on his mouth, laughed and jumped from the bed. She flung her arms out and whirled around, dancing in the early morning sunlight. He loved the way the light touched her skin, shimmering with a golden glow. The lavender aura had vanished, and that made him very happy. He had knocked the Leanan sidhe right back to where she belonged. He decided not to mention it. She seemed to have no memory of it at all.
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 39
