Untamed

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Would you? Ah, yes, of course. Men get no heirs of wives who have no pleasure in the marriage bed.”

  Dominic hesitated, shrugged, and said, “I don’t believe that superstition.”

  Laces slipped from eyelets with a hushed, whispering sound.

  “You think a woman who has no pleasure of her partner can conceive?” Meg asked.

  “I know she can.”

  Meg turned and looked over her shoulder at Dominic. “How so? Did you once force a maid and get her with child?”

  “Is that what you think of me?” Dominic asked levelly.

  With a sigh, Meg turned away. “No, my lord. For all your warrior nature, you take no pleasure in another’s pain.”

  There was silence but for the whisper of laces coming undone. After a few moments Dominic spoke in a low voice.

  “Once a knight of mine found a young Saracen girl alone. She was a virgin. He left her so torn and bleeding from his brutal rutting that we barely saved her life. I know for certain she had no pleasure of him, yet she quickened with his seed.”

  “Dear God. ’Tis little fair in that.”

  “’Tis little fair in being born a bastard,” Dominic said. “But my brother and I were both born such.”

  “As was Duncan of Maxwell.”

  A lace whipped through its eyelet.

  “Do you have a penchant for bastards, my lady?” Dominic asked tightly.

  Meg made an odd sound. “I? Nay. Rather I would say that bastards have a penchant for Blackthorne Keep!”

  Dominic’s hands stilled as he fought for control of the anger and despair that claimed him whenever his wife spoke of the terms of their marriage.

  “I cannot change how we were married, or why, or what I seek in the way of heirs,” Dominic said when he trusted his voice again. “Nor would I if I could. What about you, my reluctant wife? Would you want a marriage that outraged the king of England?”

  “No,” Meg said after a moment. “That would mean war.”

  “Would you want a man who cared not for Blackthorne Keep?”

  “Nay.”

  “Would you want a man who couldn’t give you children?”

  “Nay,” she whispered.

  “Would you want a man who didn’t grow hard with hunger for you?”

  Biting her lip, Meg shook her head.

  “Then why do you seek a quarrel?” Dominic asked finally. “Do you think I won’t defend and protect the land?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you think I won’t defend and protect my children?”

  “Nay.”

  “Do you think I won’t defend and protect my wife?”

  Two tears slid from Meg’s eyes. Her throat ached so much that it was impossible for her to speak. Slowly she shook her head.

  Dominic’s long, strong fingers eased the last of the laces free. The green silk dress lay open from the nape of Meg’s neck to the shadowed cleft of her hips. He wanted to trace the elegant line of his wife’s body so much that his hands trembled with the fierce rushing of his blood.

  “Do you think I am unworthy of you in some way?” Dominic asked, his voice tight with strain.

  “Nay,” Meg whispered. “Never, my lord Dominic.”

  Her breath came in with a rushing sound as Dominic’s mouth caressed the nape of her neck while his fingers undid the frail fastenings of her underclothes.

  As his mouth worked slowly down her spine, he eased his fingers into the opening of her clothes and caressed her rounded bottom with slow sweeps of his hands. She was warm and smooth, and he wanted nothing more than to pull off his clothes and bury himself in the sultry heat that he knew awaited within her.

  But not yet. First he would hear her crying his name and feel her nails like small talons pricking him into even greater readiness.

  With great care, Dominic traced the tight cleft to the hidden softness beneath. The sound of Meg’s voice breaking on his name made him smile in fierce triumph.

  “Yes?” he murmured. “Is there something you want?”

  The feel of Dominic’s breath in the naked small of her back made Meg shiver. The exquisitely restrained pressure of his teeth made her heartbeat quicken. The smooth penetration of his finger nearly brought her to her knees.

  “You are so sweet to touch,” Dominic said.

  The feel of his finger testing her depths made Meg moan. Just as Dominic thought he might have hurt her, he felt the pleasure washing through her. Slowly, sensuously, he pressed a second finger into her heat and was rewarded by another searing pulse of response licking over his skin.

  “You come undone for me with such delicious ease,” Dominic said in a voice roughened by passion, “as though you were a lock made only for my key.”

  Meg couldn’t answer, for Dominic was kissing the small of her back less gently now, his mouth and teeth pricking her into shivering awareness as his hand moved between her legs. Suddenly the pressure of his mouth became fierce and he flexed his hand, stretching her.

  Pleasure exploded in Meg, making her sway even as she cried out Dominic’s name. One of his arms came hard around her hips, holding her while he repeated the twin, devastating caresses.

  She came unraveled in a rippling cry that inflamed him as much as the hot, hidden upwelling of her response. Again he bit her flesh with sensual care as he penetrated her, expanding her supple sheath so that she would be able to receive him without pain.

  “Dominic,” Meg said, sagging against his strength. “I can’t stand.”

  Reluctantly, he began to retreat from Meg’s welcoming body, only to discover that he didn’t want to release her. Hearing her cries, feeling her softness, smelling her unique perfume…he wanted more of these things, not less.

  “Once more, sweet witch. Just once.”

  Before Meg could reply, she felt Dominic’s mouth like a passionate brand at the base of her spine. Then he was within her again, pressing sensually, making her bones turn to fire. With a low moan she trembled as liquid heat drenched her.

  Dominic made a thick sound of triumph. Slowly he rose to his feet, dragging yet more cries from Meg as he caressed every bit of her even as he retreated. When she swayed against him, he caught her with an arm just beneath her breasts. The creamy, naked line of her spine called out to be traced down and down to the hot feminine core only he had ever touched.

  “You tempt me unmercifully,” Dominic said in a thick voice.

  “How so?” Meg asked.

  The husky rasp of her voice was like a cat’s tongue. He shuddered once, heavily, fighting for the self-control that was being driven farther away with each hammer blow of his heart.

  “You make me want to bury myself in you here and now,” he said almost harshly.

  “Yes.” Meg’s nails dug into Dominic’s arm as passion shook her. “Yes, my warrior. Take me here and now! I can’t bear any more. I feel empty.”

  Without warning, Dominic lifted Meg in one arm and pulled off her clothes with the other, moving so swiftly that golden bells shivered and rang.

  It was many steps to the bed. It was only two to the darning table.

  An impatient movement of Dominic’s arm cleared the table of colorful yarn and baskets. He sat Meg on top of the table and went to work on his own clothes. The combination of surprise and sensuality he saw in her face made him want to laugh and groan with the fierce prodding of his own passion.

  “The table?” she managed huskily.

  “It’s closer than the bed.”

  Meg said no more, for the quick motions of Dominic’s hands had opened his clothes enough to release his aroused flesh from confinement. The bold thrusting of his body fascinated her.

  “May I…touch you?” she whispered.

  “I shall die if you don’t.”

  Dominic’s voice became a low groan at the gentle, fiery brush of Meg’s fingertips.

  “So hard,” she whispered, circling the base of his rigid flesh. Slowly her fingers caressed his length to the blunt tip.
“Yet so smooth. Especially here. You shame the finest silk.”

  “God give me strength,” Dominic said through clenched teeth.

  A bolt of pleasure lanced through him, shaking him. For the space of a heartbeat, he balanced on the breaking edge of a sensual storm. Sweat gilded his body as he brought his savage need under control with a long, shattered breath.

  His hunger barely restrained, Dominic captured Meg’s hand and bit her palm.

  “Did I touch you the wrong way?” she asked.

  “Nay. You touched me all too well. I nearly spilled myself into your hand.”

  The surprise in Meg’s eyes was quickly replaced by curiosity. She looked down at him in sensuous speculation. Then her breath came in with a soft, ripping sound as Dominic wrapped his hands around her knees and slowly drew them apart.

  “Shift your legs, sweet witch. Let me stand close.”

  Meg tried to answer, but couldn’t. The controlled strength of the hands opening her had stolen her voice. The silver blaze of Dominic’s eyes as he looked at her nakedness made her tremble.

  She should have felt frightened, defenseless. Instead she felt oddly powerful, intensely desired. At this moment she was certain that nothing existed in Dominic’s thoughts but his hunger for his wife.

  Then he was standing between her thighs, testing her with a smooth motion of his hand. The gliding penetration of his finger sent lightning racing through her body. A sensual rain soon followed.

  Meg’s voice broke over Dominic’s name when he redoubled and repeated the caress. Her soft cries charted the progress of his touches. When he plucked the sultry jewel of her passion, she tilted back her head and surrendered herself to the sensations consuming her.

  “Yes,” Dominic said, watching Meg with eyes that burned. “This is how I want you, hot and sleek and crying for me.”

  “I can’t—bear—any more.”

  He laughed low in his throat and shuddered as her passionate response licked over the blunt tip of the sword that was even now pressing into her sheath.

  “Nor can I,” he said thickly. “Wrap your legs around my waist and pull me close. Yes, like that.”

  Dominic’s hands slipped beneath Meg’s hips. “Take me now, witch. Take me hard and deep.”

  Meg’s answer was a ragged cry as Dominic thrust smoothly into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. For the space of a breath she thought she would be torn apart. He tried to retreat, but could not force himself to give up one bit of the taut, sultry depths that held him more closely than his own skin.

  “Is it too much?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “I—”

  He began to retreat. The hidden caress of flesh against flesh drew a shudder of pleasure from Meg. The secret rain that followed eased his presence within her. Carefully he pressed forward again. This time the breathless sounds she made came of pleasure rather than surprise.

  When Dominic would have retreated once more, her legs tightened around his hips, locking him close. The gesture undid him. With a low cry he began moving deeply within Meg, measuring himself and her with quickening motions.

  A strange glittering sensation went from Meg’s breastbone to the pit of her stomach. Shivering, crying softly, she moved with Dominic, reinforcing the shimmering pressure caressing her. She felt her hips lifted in his big hands, felt the raw power of his body, felt the sensual tension spiraling quickly out of control between them.

  Meg’s nails dug heedlessly into Dominic’s muscular shoulders as she called his name on a rising note of urgency. His answer was a thrust that would have hurt her moments before, but not now. Now she was soft and hot, shivering and crying her release as her warrior poured himself deep into her welcoming body.

  When Meg finally could breathe again without having each breath break over the echoes of ecstasy still rippling through her, she opened her eyes.

  Dominic was watching her as though uncertain of her mood.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.

  Meg started to answer, shivered in remembered pleasure, and whispered, “Aye.”

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “You are rather, er, formidable,” she said. “But you didn’t hurt me.”

  “Are you certain? I meant to take you far more gently,” Dominic said. “You have a baffling effect on my self-control.”

  “You didn’t hurt me. Rather the opposite. You gave me great pleasure.”

  While Meg spoke, she leaned forward to kiss Dominic. The motion shifted him within her. Her eyes opened and her breath broke as bright splinters of ecstasy pierced her.

  Dominic felt Meg’s response as clearly as she did, for her soft depths caressed him with each flick of ecstasy’s silken whip. His eyes narrowed at the sudden, savage rush of his blood. Without separating their bodies, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

  “Don’t leave me yet,” Meg whispered, holding him.

  His breath wedged. “Do you like having me within you?”

  “Aye.”

  She trembled with a backlash of pleasure as Dominic lay full length above her, bracing his weight on his elbows. Even his smallest movement sent hot shards of sensation through her, for he was full and hard once more.

  “Did I not please you?” Meg asked.

  “You pleased me until I could barely stand.”

  She moved tentatively. “Did I? But you still feel quite…ready.”

  “Not still. Again.”

  Her eyes widened. “It has not been half an hour.”

  Dominic laughed and moved again within Meg, savoring every bit of her warmth, drawing forth a scented rain of pleasure. Slowly he retreated. When he returned, he let her feel his weight and power. The intense, gliding friction set her afire.

  “Warrior,” Meg breathed.

  The heavy pressure within her redoubled, filling her to bursting, seducing her with ecstasy until she could no longer think, only feel. She tried to tell him how good it felt to lie joined with him, moving as he moved, sharing breath and body, but all that came from her lips was a rippling cry of ecstasy.

  Dominic laughed with pleasure and the strength coursing through him, a power enhanced and freed by the girl who even now was convulsing sweetly beneath him. He bent and drank her small cries from her lips, gliding and retreating, returning and withdrawing and returning again until her cries became sharp, urgent, almost frightened.

  “Dominic?” Meg asked raggedly.

  “Hold on to me. This time you will soar very high.”

  “What of—you?”

  “I will be with you. Fly, small falcon. Fly all the way to the sun.”

  24

  SIMON STOOD AT THE GATEHOUSE door, watching the swirls and currents of people around the big meadow where the funeral feast and games had been set up in “honor” of John of Carlysle, deceased lord of Blackthorne Keep. The last of the jousts were being prepared. Thus far, Blackthorne Keep had defeated all but two of the Reevers. Not surprisingly, both of the undefeated knights were warriors returning from the holy crusade.

  The Scots Hammer had not yet fought. Nor had Dominic le Sabre.

  “You look skeptical,” Dominic said in a voice too low to be overheard.

  Simon glanced askance at his brother. “You look smug.”

  “I was afraid Duncan might sense a trap and not come at all.”

  “He brought every Reever who could ride a horse.”

  “Aye, but only three of his knights are equal to ours,” Dominic said.

  “Duncan is equal to two knights.”

  “Aye.”

  Simon followed his brother’s glance to the rough arena where four knights stood apart from the general rabble of the Reevers. One of them was Duncan of Maxwell. The others were men who waited and watched the games with the eyes of knights for whom strife and death held no mysteries.

  “Interesting that Rufus isn’t among the four good knights,” Simon said.

  Dominic shrugged. “Duncan, damn his eyes, is shrewd. H
e knows Rufus envies him. The Scots Hammer trusts only those knights standing with him.”

  “Rufus is a fool,” Simon said. “Pity he isn’t the Reevers’ leader. We could lure him into a pig wallow and leave him floundering.”

  “Speaking of pig wallows…have you seen the priest lately?”

  “With a joint of mutton in one hand, a mug of ale in the other, and a sweet bun stuffed between his teeth,” Simon said sardonically. “Yes, I’ve seen him.”

  “Where?”

  “Near Duncan, where else? The Church has made no pretense of its preferences. You should have sent the priest north with John’s bastard.”

  Dominic smiled thinly.

  “I thought of it,” he admitted. “Then I thought I might have a use for the Church’s good offices before Blackthorne Keep was secure in my grasp.”

  “Have you need of the priest now?” Simon asked curiously.

  “Aye. Are the men-at-arms deployed?”

  “As you ordered, lord. Now would you kindly tell me what in God’s name you have planned?”

  “Nothing elaborate. I am going to charge the Scots Hammer with the attempted stealing of my wife.”

  “Why? I thought it was your death the Reevers wanted.”

  “Quite probably, but that would raise no cries across the land. However, to steal a man’s lawful wife for purposes of unlawful sexual intercourse…”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. Then his lips thinned into a smile as feral as Dominic’s.

  “Even the Reevers couldn’t countenance such an act publicly,” Dominic continued. “The Church would have to be even more publicly horrified. Do you think an excommunicate could lead good knights into battle?”

  “You’re going to kill the Scots Hammer, aren’t you?” Simon said after a moment.

  “If I must.” Dominic shrugged. “And it seems that I must. The Reevers grow too strong.”

  The smile on Simon’s face faded. “It will mean war.”

  “Probably. But without Duncan’s leadership, the Reevers will be much easier to defeat.”

  Dominic hesitated, choosing his next words carefully.

  Uneasiness blew coolly over Simon’s skin. There was a darkness in his brother’s eyes that had never been there before, not even after the sultan’s infamous torture rooms.