Dark Warrior (de Russe Legacy Book 9)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  As his tongue licked her into a frenzy, he could feel his lust building. Even when he manipulated her taut little bud of pleasure and felt her body convulse as she experienced her first powerful release, it did nothing to satisfy his own physical need. His enormous manhood was as hard as a rock, throbbing painfully. He could not deny himself the pleasure of knowing the woman he would soon take as his wife.

  Lifting himself up, he placed his manroot at her wet, quivering threshold.

  Her body against his was the most natural of things. Cort had women in his life, probably more than most men, but not like this. Never like this. No woman he’d ever known had felt so natural against him, an innate sense of being. To take her, to make her his own, was the greatest demonstration he could give her as his feelings consumed him. Slanting his mouth over hers, he lifted her knees and slipped more than half of his long, hard length inside her slick and pulsing passage.

  Dera gasped at the sting of possession. She tore her mouth away from his, panting as she became accustomed to the feel of him within her body. But her arms wrapped around his neck, tightening, and she lifted her pelvis to him in a completely inherent move, her body demanding more of him.

  Cort complied; his mouth was suckling on her throat and, with a growl, he took hold of her tender buttocks and thrust forward, driving himself to the hilt and listening to her groans of pain and pleasure.

  With one hand on her buttocks and another on her breast, Cort impaled her on his phallus over and over, listening to her joyous gasps of pleasure, feeling her body respond to his in a way that suggested she was made only for him. He fit against her like a piece of a puzzle. He resumed his gentle kisses, realizing that she was weeping softly, so he kissed her tears away tenderly. He could feel her body rattle with his powerful thrusts, her soft whispering in his ear that encouraged him onward.

  It was heaven.

  Even after Cort climaxed, he continued to thrust into her and was rewarded when her body released around him. He could feel her tender walls pulling at him. Still, he continued to move within her, to kiss her, to caress her buttocks and breasts. When it finally ended and the heat died away, he lay there, dazed. Everything about the woman dazed him. It was the beginning of something so magnificent, he could not even begin to comprehend.

  Without uttering a sound, he shifted his weight so that he was lying next to her. He collected her warm, naked body up against his in a fiercely protective position, knowing that, come what may, she was his forever and he would defend that to the death.

  Even from an irate king.

  Tucking her head beneath his chin, he closed his eyes, but she was snoring softly before he even fell asleep.

  When he finally drifted off, it was with a smile on his lips.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He’d left her sleeping.

  It was before dawn and Cort was wide awake, as was usual with him. His body seemed to know when dawn wasn’t far off and he would automatically awaken and go about his duties. That was on a normal day.

  But this wasn’t a normal day.

  After last night with Dera, everything looked different this morning. There was a battle looming on the horizon, a siege of epic proportions more than likely, and all he could think about was the woman he’d bedded last night. That deeply personal act had filled a hole inside of him that he never knew he had, because this morning, he felt strangely complete. As if whatever he’d been missing had been found.

  He couldn’t describe it any better than that.

  So, he rose silently and dressed, pulling his breeches and boots and doublet on, and went out into the dark common room where travelers were sleeping in chairs and on the floor in front of the hearth. He headed back into the rear yard where the innkeeper and his servants were beginning to prepare for the morning meal, and the heavy smell of baking bread filled the yard. Speaking briefly to the innkeeper, he ordered a meal as soon as it was ready for consumption and headed back into the inn.

  People were beginning to stir inside. A few coughs echoed throughout the room as he passed through, returning to the chamber where Dera was sleeping. He was almost to the door when the entry to the inn pushed open and a knight in full armor entered.

  Cort immediately recognized his brother, Boden.

  “Bo?” he said curiously. “What are you doing here?”

  Boden appeared greatly relieved to see him. “I came to find you,” he said. “When you did not return to camp last night, Dillon said you took Lady Dera to this tavern. Why did you stay?”

  Cort’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m supposed to leave her unattended?” he said as if his brother’s question were stupid. “Unprotected in a tavern? Christ, Boden, why on earth would I do that? You know very well that we need her. More than that, she’s a captive. Someone has to watch her.”

  It all sounded quite logical and Boden shrugged as he understood the man’s reasoning. “I suppose you are right,” he said. “But Trenton needs you. I can guard the lady, but you need to return to camp immediately. Preparations are under way and Trenton will not move forward without you.”

  Cort didn’t want to go and he most certainly didn’t want to leave Dera with his brother in charge. Boden was an excellent knight, so it wasn’t a matter of trust. He simply didn’t want to leave her. That meant he had to think fast as to why, exactly, he couldn’t leave.

  He had an idea.

  Grasping his brother by the arm, he pulled the man outside into the breaking dawn where they could speak privately. Once they were out in the mist, he faced his brother in the middle of the road.

  “I will not speak in that inn for fear that there may be Irish rebels sleeping in the common room,” he said. “We are in enemy lands, Boden.”

  Boden nodded quickly. “I know, Cort.”

  Cort took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I cannot return to camp just yet and I want you to return to Trenton with this information,” he said. “I spoke to the lady last night at length about the Irish rebels and she has promised to take me to their lair. Evidently, there is a priest who preaches resistance to the English and I plan to speak with the man. I may be able to glean information we very badly need, so tell Trenton what I am doing. I will return to camp as soon as I can, but I suggest not moving against Mount Wrath until I do. Will you tell him this?”

  Boden nodded seriously. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  Cort shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “One of us in danger is plenty. But you tell Trenton to hold station until I return.”

  Boden nodded. “I will tell him,” he said. “But where is this place you are going?”

  “She did not tell me the name,” he lied, mostly because he didn’t want Boden or anyone else following him. “But it is local, I am told. It should not take us more than an hour or two to find it, so I should return by this evening. I am hoping the priest can tell us about the rebels who hold Mount Wrath.”

  “I hope so,” Boden said fervently. “The more information we can get about them, the better.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Are you sure you do not want me to go with you?”

  Cort shook his head and turned his brother around, in the direction of his horse, which was tethered to a post next to the tavern. “I cannot worry about you,” he said. “Let me only worry about my own English hide in a nest of vipers. Go back to Trenton and stay there. I will see you by tonight.”

  Boden did as he was told. As Cort watched, his brother mounted his horse and tore off into the misty, gray morning. With Boden and the rest of the English aware of his plans, Cort returned to the inn and quietly entered the chamber he shared with Dera.

  She was already awake and dressed, clad in an undyed woolen gown that was heavy and warm on this cold morning. She was just finishing braiding her hair when he entered and their eyes met. She looked at him with a wide-eyed expression that suggested great joy. But there was also apprehension.

  Apprehension that he might regret what happened between them the ni
ght before.

  Cort’s heart tugged at the look on her face.

  “Greetings, my lady,” he said in his low, gentle tone. “Did you sleep well?”

  Dera nodded. “Very well, thank you. And you?”

  “Perfectly,” he said. “Do you feel better this morning? No rocking ship?”

  She smiled, embarrassed. “Actually, I feel wonderful,” she said. “I am very hungry. I do not mean to be a bother, but do you suppose we can eat before we depart?”

  He went to her, standing very close and gazing down into her lovely face. Those warm, endearing emotions from last night swamped him all over again. “Dera,” he said quietly. “You are never a bother. And last night changed nothing. I still want to marry you, now more than ever. In fact, I do not care that our marriage is illegal. I will marry you today.”

  Her eyes widened. “Today?” she said. “But… Cort, you cannot!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… because what happens when you return to England?”

  Reaching out, he pulled her against him, tightly. The feel of her was enough to fortify the weakest soul.

  “We will simply keep our marriage a secret,” he said quietly. “I intend to return to Deverill Castle immediately and seek my father’s counsel on the matter. He will know what to do.”

  Dera clung to him. She didn’t think it was a good idea at all. But in the same breath, she’d never been so proud or thrilled in her entire life.

  “A secret marriage?” she whispered. “I am not sure I can keep it secret when I want to shout it to the heavens. But you are putting your father in a terrible position. He is a duke, is he not?”

  “He is the most powerful duke in all of England,” Cort said firmly. “He even gives the king commands and the man obeys. Therefore, fear not – he will know what to do.”

  “But –!”

  He tipped her chin up to look at him, cutting her off. “I have found the woman I intend to spend my life with and I will not wait,” he said. “Call it impetuous or demanding, or whatever you wish, but you will become my wife today. Do you love me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then there is nothing to discuss.”

  He was determined. Dera could see that there was no changing his mind, but she was mightily torn about it. In days past, she would not have cared if an English knight ran afoul of English law. She would have cheered the failure. But now… now, she wasn’t willing to cheer. Cort was about to do something that was a punishable offense, something that would ruin him as a knight were it discovered.

  It was a deadly secret they would carry.

  The more she thought about it, the more distressed she became.

  “Cort, this is madness,” she said. “You cannot simply make a decision like this without thinking on it carefully. Mayhap you should seek your father’s counsel before we do this.”

  “You said that you loved me.”

  “I do, but I love you enough that I don’t want you to ruin your life.”

  “It would only be in ruins if I did not have you. If I have you, I have everything.”

  He made it sound so simple in a situation that was anything but simple. As she shook her head, uncertain and upset, he went over to the bed where her satchel was already packed and waiting.

  “Come along,” he said, collecting her bag. “Let us break our fast and head to Lisnadara. I am anxious to meet this priest you speak of. What is his name?”

  He was holding out a hand to her and she took it. “Father Finbar.”

  “Then let us pay Father Finbar a visit. Mayhap I will ask him to marry us.”

  She looked at the man as if he’d lost his mind but she didn’t say anything. Whatever she had said so far this morning, he didn’t want to hear it. He was only interested in his own wants and she tried not to let the thought of marrying the man overwhelm her common sense. Perhaps he would regain some of his once he’d spoke with Father Finbar, who wasn’t exactly an English ally.

  An interesting morning was about to become an interesting day.

  “He’s what?”

  Boden found himself facing Trenton, Dillon, and Brend in the massive de Winter tent. A strong breeze was blowing in from the sea, pushing the mist away and battering the sides of the tent.

  But that wasn’t the only thing getting battered.

  Boden could see that his eldest brother and the others were grossly unhappy.

  “He told me to tell you that he’s gone into the lair of the rebels to discover what he can about them,” he repeated patiently. “He says he’s going to meet a priest who knows how these men think and he does not want you to move on Mount Wrath until he returns.”

  Trenton was staring at him as if the man had lost his mind. “Boden,” he said. “Where did he go?”

  Boden shook his head. “He did not know the name of the village, but he said it was local. He said he would be back by nightfall.”

  “And that gives the rebels who hold Mount Wrath an entire day to prepare for our arrival,” Dillon said, agitated. “As it is, they’ve had the entire night to prepare their defenses. Why would we give them the entire day as well? That is madness.”

  Trenton eyed Boden before replying to Dillon. “While I tend to agree with you, we both know Cort,” he said. “He is not foolish by any means. He must have a good reason for going.”

  Dillon shook his head. “My father wants his property returned,” he said. “I am uncomfortable waiting for Cort to do whatever it is he’s doing. He’s brilliant and he’s certainly not foolish, as you say, but he is also an agent for Henry and he is used to operating on his own. He’s gone off to discover what more he can about the rebels, but why? We already know they are at Mount Wrath and the longer we wait, the more chance there is that our siege will last a very long time because they will have had time to reinforce their defenses. You know this, Trenton.”

  Trenton was leaning in that direction, too. He wasn’t sure what Cort could discover about the rebels that could help them end the situation quickly, but he did know the longer they waited, the more the rebels would dig in.

  The more men they would lose.

  He was grossly frustrated at Cort for simply leaving and expecting them all to wait.

  “Then what do you want to do?” he asked Dillon. “This is a de Winter raid, so I will leave the decision to you.”

  Dillon eyed Boden, who looked at him apprehensively. Dillon, in truth, seemed hesitant, perhaps wanting to wait for Cort, whom he knew to be a man of great reason and planning, but he couldn’t look past the immediate situation. Every moment they delayed was a moment wasted.

  “I cannot, in good conscience, wait,” he finally said. “We have three thousand men waiting for the command to move out and we cannot delay. Whatever Cort discovers… he can find us at Mount Wrath and tell us at that time. We’ve come to reclaim the castle and that is exactly what I intend we should do.”

  The decision was made. Brend was already moving out of the tent, heading out to the de Winter army to relay commands, and Trenton nodded to Boden, who followed Brend from the tent to do the same. Already, Trenton and Dillon could hear the shouting as the sergeants began to muster the men and the quartermasters began to break down the camp.

  The time was upon them.

  “Then move we shall,” Trenton said. “I hope, for your sake, that Cort does not find anything of use against the rebels. God help us if he does and we chose to ignore his request for a delay.”

  Dillon knew that, but hearing it from the Earl of Westbury sounded critical and ominous. Still, he stood his ground.

  “I must go by my father’s instructions, Trenton,” he said quietly. “My father has ordered that we should move to Mount Wrath on our first morning after arriving and move we will.”

  Trenton didn’t say anything more. He simply quit the tent, heading towards the amassing de Russe, Shrewsbury, and Wellesbourne armies, hoping his brother didn’t get himself killed in the midst of trying to discover inf
ormation about the rebels. Cort was skilled and he was knowledgeable, but he was also heading into the belly of the beast.

  Alone.

  As Trenton prepared for the coming battle, he found himself saying a prayer for his beloved, cheeky, and frustrating younger brother.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The countryside of Ireland away from the towns was something overgrown, green, rocky, and wild. It was true that England was extraordinarily green for the most part, except up in the north and into Scotland where things became rocky and brown with peat and heather, but the green of Ireland was a color he’d never seen before. Pale and glistening, with a hint of yellow to it.

  Cort could very well imagine that this was the land of little people, of fae and spirits, because it seemed to him that they were all around them, living on the fringes and waiting to stick their heads out at any moment.

  He could feel the magic.

  And he could feel… peace. He wasn’t sure why he felt that, but he did. The landscape was so incredibly quiet it appeared the entire land was sleeping. He’d been to Ireland before, but always in battle. Never like this, simply traveling a road with no armies around him. He found it quite pleasant.

  The village of Lisnadara wasn’t far from Dundalk. Within an hour, they had sighted the little town, and the green that had surrounded them began to disappear as they entered the realm of farm fields. Rich, brown earth was turned up and, at this time of year, crops were in the early stages. As they passed through the outskirts and into the village proper, they were greeted by sturdy stone cottages in neat rows and a main road that was surprisingly busy.

  This was where Cort started to feel some trepidation. He was wearing his armor, or half of it, and he was armed with a big broadsword that hung down his leg. If this village was a nest of rebels, they would spot his English dress in a heartbeat and there could be trouble, but Dera didn’t seem concerned. She directed him to the other end of the village where a stone church rose up out of the ground.