by Lara Adrian
"You are safe," Kenrick murmured. "There is naught to harm you here."
"There is no safety where the memories would lead me. I can feel that much. And today, that man in the barn--I just...I don't want to relive that night anymore. It hurts to think on it."
"I know, sweeting. I know." With gentle hands at her shoulders, Kenrick slowly turned her around to face him. "No one should be made to witness the hell you knew in Greycliff's raid. I would make it better for you if I could."
Haven burrowed into the warmth of his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. "You do make it better. Just feeling your arms around me banishes the horror of it...and the pain."
"Then let me hold you, my lady." Taking her hand in his, he guided her toward the waiting bathtub near the fireplace. "There is only us now. Let's wash away all traces of that night and this morning. Let me hold you."
She walked the few scant paces with him, her fingers caught loosely in his. He brought her near the steaming pool of the bath, stripped off his soiled tunic and tossed it aside. Bare chested and glorious, he began to slowly disrobe her. Haven stood there, his willing thrall, as he untied the laces of her gown. The silk cording whispered out of its neat row of eyelets, then softly fell in a small coil at her feet.
Kenrick bent his head and kissed her as his deft fingers sought the loosened bodice that now sagged in a revealing crush between her breasts. His hand slid within, seeking out and finding the aching buds of her nipples. The little peaks surged tighter at his touch, yearning for more of his caress. She wanted more...so much more.
There was no curbing her small moan of dismay as he left off, moving his hands away from the needy ache of her breasts to slide her loosened bodice over her shoulders.
The gown made a slow descent down the length of her body, leaving her standing before him in naught but the thin covering of her shift.
"Still you tremble," he murmured, his heavy-lidded gaze dragging up to meet her own.
"From pleasure," she said. "And from anticipation."
His smile was a wicked twist of his lips that fair stole her breath. So handsome was he, her golden lord. As handsome and as darkly skilled as the most learned sorcerer.
"What is it you crave of me?" he asked, deviltry gleaming in the muted indigo of his eyes. "My touch, perhaps?"
She could not speak, for in that moment he cupped her breast in his palm, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the taut crown of her nipple, which rose like a pebble beneath her chemise.
"Mayhap you crave my kiss."
The sweet torment of his touch was compounded at once with the heat of his mouth on hers. He teased her lips with a sensual joining that sent quivers of sensation to the very core of her being. Too soon, he broke their kiss to trace his mouth along her jaw, then down the column of her throat. He sampled her skin with what seemed a barely restrained hunger, his teeth nicking here and there as he made a moist, burning path to the shallow dip at the base of her neck.
She dropped her head back and let him plunder at will, only vaguely aware of the scuttling chill of air that hit her bared flesh as Kenrick untied the ribbon of her chemise and eased the fine undergarment off her body.
A note of tenderness dimmed his gaze as he caught sight of the bandage wrapped about her shoulder.
"Will it hurt you at all..."
"No," she replied, moved by his gentle care, which was unnecessary. The wound did not pain her any longer. It was all but healed in the short time since she had been at Clairmont, the new skin concealed by the pristine bandage that covered it.
Kenrick gave her no time to think on the queer healing of her injury. He stooped down before her, tasting his way into the heart of her bosom.
With caressing hands and a questing mouth, he laved her breasts both in turn. Jolts of desire arced through her as he suckled her nipples, teasing the tender buds until she could scarce endure the pleasure. He kissed the narrow space between them, pausing to sample the buoyant swell and the sensitive skin beneath it.
Then his kiss drifted lower still.
Haven sucked in a breath of shock to feel his mouth skim along her belly. His tongue darted into the cleft of her navel, the sensation so purely sensual--so unexpected--she jerked in reaction. He steadied her with gentle hands splayed at her hips.
"Trust me, sweetness. I want you very much, but I vow I will take things slow between us now."
Haven's answer was a deep, throaty sigh. "Oh my dear, noble lord," she gasped, body quivering at his every touch. "Your skilled restraint is like to be my undoing."
But he seemed disinclined to give her quarter. Every seductive stroke of his mouth and lips and tongue made her yearn for more. As though he sensed this about her, he proceeded with maddening patience, as if he meant to sample every inch of her in his own time.
Such exquisite torment.
He paused in his slow unraveling of her senses, and drew back from her slightly. Where his mouth had ceased its exploration, now his gaze began to drink her in. Haven felt the heat of that gaze like a thousand fingers of flame. Tickling, teasing, his eyes traced a path of hungry indigo fire from her own yearning gaze, to her parted lips which still tingled from his kisses, to the rosy crowns of her breasts, and on...to the smoothness of her belly, and the thatch of dark amber curls nestled between her thighs.
His gaze was so nakedly lustful, it scorched her, but if she burned, it was with wanton bliss. And a keening need for more of all he would give her.
"You are beautiful, Haven. So incredibly soft. Every bit of you so tempting."
Kenrick was on his knees before her.
Faith preserve her, but he was poised so close to the core of her femininity that his rough, fast-soughing breath stirred the flossy patch of down. He bent forward, and shocked her with the sudden press of his lips against her.
Haven arched taut at the contact, torn between moving away and toward the unexpected contact. But Kenrick's hands were firm at her hips, holding her in place as his tongue slid along the crevice of her womanhood. She cried out, unable to bear the sweet torture of his intimate kiss. His tongue was slick and hot, parting her like a flower. Her body wept for him, drawing taut as a bowstring with every flick of his sorcerer's tongue. He found the bud of her desire and sampled it with dizzying strokes, working a spell of dark seduction on the part of her that knew no shame.
But he took just a taste, enough to wring an anguished moan from her lips, and then he was gone.
"You are sweeter than any honey," he whispered, his voice thick as he glided his hands down the length of her thigh. "Softer than the finest silk."
He pressed a kiss to the tender skin, and gently lifted her slippered foot onto his lap. Her shoe came off as his lips teased the slight bend of her knee. As though she were made of glass, he carefully placed her bare foot down on the woven mat of rushes. Then he did likewise to her other leg, masterfully removing the last of her clothing and leaving her standing before him utterly nude and trembling with sensation.
"Your bath awaits, my lady."
His stare narrowed slightly as she shook her head.
"Our bath," Haven corrected him.
Her fingers toyed at the rolled waistband of his trousers. The drawstring ties hung down from the knot that held his remaining clothing. She could not keep her gaze from drifting to the pronounced rise of his loose-fitting garb. His arousal strained high and proud, the blunt tip outlined by the linen draping him like a tent.
Haven swallowed, her throat parched with desire. Kenrick stood before her like some lord of legend, a towering golden idol of sinew and strength, and seductive splendor. He looked more warrior than poet now, an unholy vision of pure masculinity that called to something deep and primal within her.
Her wanton gaze would not leave that part of him that was steel and silk combined. She caught the tail of one drawstring cord and tugged it loose. Her fingers brushed against him--only the slightest whisper of contact--but his arousal leaped within its fabric confines. Haven
smiled up at him, knowing the impatience he wore so visibly in his taut expression. It had been hers but a moment ago, the resonant pulse of desire still thrumming through her like the beat of tiny drums. She knew the exquisite anguish of longing, and she wanted to deal it as surely as had been dealt to her.
She leaned in and placed an open kiss on Kenrick's bare chest, suckling the flat disk of his nipple between her teeth. Her tongue circled the male bud, drawing it tight. Then she withdrew, denying him when he grew still under her mouth, his breath rasping out of him on a curse.
She went back to the tied points of his hose and braies, allowing her fingers to drift across the hard plane of his abdomen before she sought another of the knotted strings. Kenrick jerked under her barest touch, his golden skin sheening and hot beneath her fingertips. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, an impatient sound that gave Haven a measure of supreme satisfaction. When he reached down to assist her in undressing him, Haven placed her hand over his, halting his impatient fingers.
"We are to take this slowly," she said, reminding him of his own pledge that nearly drove her to madness. "No rushing, was that not what we agreed?"
His answering chuckle was deep with amusement. "You are too clever by half, sweet witch."
Haven only smiled, then returned to the enticing completion of her task. A second tied knot came free with measured deliberation. The others fell in likewise fashion, slowly, one after another, until just one slender strand remained. Kenrick watched her with smoldering interest, a purely male smile curving the corner of his mouth.
Holding the indigo fire of his gaze, she tugged the final lacing that concealed him from her full view.
Kenrick's low oath held far more reverence than curse as Haven slipped her palms between the slack linen and the velvety firmness of his hips. She eased his trousers down, sinking to her knees before him as she smoothed her hands along his legs from muscular thigh to tendoned ankle. His feet were bare; he had no doubt removed his boots surreptitiously while she was busy losing herself to the seductive wonder of his touch.
Haven carefully stripped him of his hose and braies, then she leaned back to look upon the naked splendor of her golden warrior.
He was magnificent.
Faith, but it had been easy enough before to see why the castle maids whispered of him with girlish shades of pink in their cheeks, all of them flirting with the aloof overlord as much as they stood wary of his stoic, secretive manner.
Now, gazing upon him here, Haven knew the weight of that feminine desire some hundredfold. Kenrick was a vision of masculine perfection, from his golden crown of close-cropped hair, to his broad shoulders, bronzed chest, and trim, muscular waist.
And there was more perfection the farther she dared to glance.
Although she had anticipated nothing less, seeing that part of Kenrick that was unabashedly, impressively male, stole her breath. She could not keep from staring at the rigid beauty of him...nor could she resist the sudden overwhelming urge to touch.
His flesh leaped at the first brush of her fingertips. Haven stroked him softly, utterly intrigued with the incredible satin smoothness that sheathed so much steely strength. His sex was thick and large in her palm, its heavy girth filling her hand from the tips of her fingers to past her wrist. A drop of moisture beaded at its blunt crown, a silky warmth that dampened her fingers as she dared to stroke him.
At Kenrick's low growl, Haven dragged her gaze up the golden length of his body. He was watching her with an intensity that made her stomach quiver. His sensual mouth was held taut, his fine nostrils flaring with every breath that rasped into his lungs. And his eyes--mercy, but the look in his eyes was so feral, so heated and raw, Haven knew not whether her boldness pleased him or enraged him.
"If you wish me to stop..." she said, her voice trailing off as she glided her fingertips along the underside of his shaft, from the thick base of his sex to the glistening head. "I don't know quite how...to touch you."
"Aye, you do, my lady. You are but a breath away from unmanning me where I stand."
His hands played over her bare shoulders, and along the curve and swell of her breasts. Haven reveled in his touch, in the hungered way he stroked her skin. His fingers were warm and strong as he caressed her nape, then plunged them into the mass of hair that cascaded down her bare back. He lifted the heavy tresses, crushing and sifting them through his fingers and letting her hair fall in waves around her.
"Come up here now," he commanded her in a rough whisper.
Haven obeyed the gentle pressure of his hands beneath her arms, allowing him to assist her back onto her feet. He stroked her face, frowning slightly as his finger traced around the inflamed scratch that slashed down the slope of her cheek. With a tender look, he leaned to retrieve a small folded cloth from the edge of the bathtub. He bent to soak it in the steaming water, wrung it out, then carefully blotted at her small injury.
She was in no pain at all, but his tender ministrations soothed her. Each stroke of his touch, each caring glance, delivered her farther and farther away from the disturbing events of that morning. With Kenrick there was only light and warmth and peace. There was trust as well, something that did not come easily to her...or to him.
Haven accepted his care now, and the sensual promise of what was to come. She brought her hands up to caress his back as he cleansed her, her fingers tracing along the sinewy ropes that twisted and flexed as he moved. Their bodies brushed together, her breasts against his chest, their thighs smoothing together in pleasing friction with every touch.
She did not realize he had set down the cloth until he was tipping her chin up to meet him as he bent to claim her mouth in a passionate kiss.
Haven's senses swirled wildly under the heat of his lips on hers. His hand drifted down her body, down and down, until she felt his fingers wade through the curls between her legs. One blunt finger slid into the moist cleft, parting her to his brazen touch. She groaned as he teased her dewy folds, spreading sensual fire through every fiber of her being. She felt her limbs begin to quake beneath her, like butter melting in the sun.
"Sweet witch," he murmured along the edge of her mouth. "My beautiful, mysterious lady...I think the bath must needs wait."
Haven opened her eyes to meet his gaze. Her heart was racing. Inside, she felt molten and shimmering with a need she could not define. Kenrick kissed her again, this time with a fierceness that nigh overwhelmed her. His tongue slid past her lips, past her teeth, thrusting with an animal need she felt echoed within herself.
"Yes," she gasped when her breath was once again her own. "Oh, Kenrick...yes."
He hesitated not for an instant.
Sweeping her up into his strong arms, he turned away from the wreathing steam of the bathtub and carried her across the solar to the adjoining bedchamber. Haven nestled into his firm chest, drowning herself in the delicious scent of his bare skin. Part spice and warm man, part musk and rich claret wine, he was an intoxicating balm to the fever raging in her blood.
In the short time it took to reach the large bed in his private antechamber, Haven was all but lost to him. He set her down on the thick mattress, plush fur tickling her backside as she sank deeply into the coverlets spread over the bed.
Now that she was there, now that she was looking at his bold, naked form as he looked down at her from beside the bed, Haven knew a shiver of doubt.
Forbidden, her conscience warned.
Forbidden to touch his kind.
Forbidden to care for him.
His expression muted as he gazed at her, from needful hunger to intuitive concern. "What is it, love?"
"I don't..." She gave a weak shake of her head on the bolster. "I don't know..."
He bent down to smooth the hair from her brow. "If you do not wish to lie with me," he said, the coarse sound of his voice betraying the deepness of his need, "I will not force you. You must know this."
"Yes, I know. There is nowhere else I want to be than here...w
ith you."
His answering smile dazzled her. His mouth curved with affection and not a little satisfaction as he reached out to take her hand in his. He placed her palm flat against the center of his chest, where his heartbeat thudded with rapid strength. She felt his life vibrantly pulse there, saw his honesty--his soul-deep honor--gleaming in the dark gemstone blue of his gaze.
"Your spell is thorough, sweet witch. I am yours to command." He lifted her hand to his mouth then, kissing each fingertip with reverent care. "If you wish me to stop...at any time...you need only say it."
Haven closed her eyes at the sweetness of his declaration. She knew he spoke true; no matter his own need, he would cease if she willed it.
But turning him away was the last thing she wanted when she searched her heart for a reason for her trepidation. Kenrick was all that was solid and good in her life now. Indeed, already his touch was chasing away the darkness of doubt that had been grasping for her.
Forbidden....
The warning was just a whisper now and fading. Haven knew not where it came from, nor why she should mistrust her feelings for Kenrick.
She opened her eyes to find him standing beside the bed unmoving, stoically awaiting her decision. He still held her hand. Haven slowly retracted it, clasping her fingers around his and guiding him toward her. He sat down beside her on the mattress, glorious in his nudity, his sex thrust high and eager between his thighs.
"You are certain?" he asked.
Haven nodded once, met his probing gaze, then nodded again.
His exhaled sigh held a weight of feeling that said much of his desire for her. He kissed the heart of her palm, a slow, sensual kiss that sent spiraling flames into her very core. With his gaze locked on hers, Kenrick guided her hand down to the blunt spear of his manhood and wrapped her fingers around him.
