The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  “Iain.” She spoke into his shoulder, another shiver vibrated through her, rubbing her against his skin. “I…”

  “Easy Lass,” he knew she would retreat at the first opportunity and whispered to her to stall her as long as he could. “‘Tis too cold to sleep alone.” She sighed and rolled over onto her back, he moved with her until their positions were switched. He lay on his left side and enjoyed her warmth and the access this new position offered him.

  “Iain.” She sighed again, and he knew she was as reluctant to leave him as he was to let her go. They had been dancing around each other, pretending they didn’t feel whatever was growing between them, pretending they didn’t care for each other any more than was appropriate between a Lord and a Lady under his protection. The future was set, and as much as Iain grew to hate it, he could not turn from the course now. Too much was at stake, and Luveday’s heart could not compensate for the stability Christabel’s dowry would bring him and his people. He moved in closer, trying to dispel his unpleasant thoughts. He was fully awake now and knew better than to keep her here, but every fiber of his being wanted her close, if only for a night. He promised himself he would not do the lady any harm, but to feel her near him was more intoxicating than the King’s finest wine.

  Almost of its own accord, his right arm reached out to run his fingers down her arm. He had to reach over her and felt the brush of her tunic against his forearm as her breasts rose suddenly while she drew air into her lungs. He didn’t stop but skimmed down her left hip to the end of her tunic. The material was a little rough, especially in contrast to the strange garment she wore under them. The thin fabric was soft and lose around her hips. He found that it didn’t quite reach her knees. Luveday was so much smaller than him, the top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder unless she had her hair piled atop it. As they lay there, Iain could easily reach from the top of her head to well past her knees. He was surprised at how smooth and hairless her legs were and took a moment to rub the area of her inner thigh just above the bend of her right knee. A whoosh of air left her, and he grinned wickedly into the darkness.

  Iain could feel her muscles tighten as she tried to keep from moving as he let his hand rest there a moment. He leaned down and caught the fragrant scent of her hair, some flower he could not place. It made his staff twitch, and his own muscles coil tighter. Iain could just make out the flutter of her lashes as she closed her eyes. He was transfixed.

  Why could she not flee? Why did she linger, tormenting herself? Luveday knew that if she made a move, Iain would let her go, but with every fiber of her being she willed herself deeper into the palette longing to be still and let whatever this was run its course. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his warm breath across her cheeks making her insides clench at his nearness. Madness, this was utter madness, and she prayed that the dark would somehow keep this moment from reality, for surely, dawn would change everything, and she wasn’t ready.

  Lips brushed her cheek, but she refused to open her eyes. The large hand that nearly encased her upper thigh began to ascend what remained of her leg, and Luveday’s modesty demanded that she stop it. Her own hand flew to halt his progress as she uttered a sound that had a decidedly negative quality to it, if not actual words. His name wouldn’t move past her lips, and her small protest arrested his movements for only a breath.

  She knew what was happening, his destination was clear, but she could count on one hand the number of times she had been intimate with someone. Her past experiences were brief and none of which had ever resulted in her going all the way. It wasn’t that she had never wanted to, only that the guys who had been interested in her had never really been interested in her, but had thought that since she was curvy and nerdy that she would be easy, and that had never been the case. Luveday had always waited, for what she didn’t really know, but none of the guys that had tried to date her and get in her pants had ever fulfilled that nameless requirement. Iain’s presence didn’t set off any of the alarms that automatically activated her sense of self-preservation. It was reason that kept trying to intrude, and he was doing a very good job of silencing all of the thoughts that kept popping up.

  When the hand under her tunic finally reached the flesh above her waistband Luveday’s eyes flew open of their own accord. In the dim light of the tent, she could make out his intense stare as he was only a few inches away from her and looking directly into her own eyes. She had only ever seen that look in movies, and it stole her breath away.

  Their lips collided, and both groaned. A moment later the waistband of her boxer shorts was lowered past her hips making Luveday both pleased and disappointed that she had washed her underwear that night and left them to dry over on her side of the tent. There was no defense. Without the additional garment his warm hand met her sensitive skin causing her back to arch off the pallet. Iain kissed her, soundlessly catching the moan that was torn from her lips. His hand cupped her, applying pressure as he seemed to wait for something. It was a maddening sensation that she could only stand for a moment until she had to move. Fingers ran lightly along her outer folds causing Luveday to realize the difference in their temperatures, his warm hands felt cold compared to the heat radiating from her core. When the first digit pushed into her folds her back arched again, and a silent, gasp of wonder, contorted her features. A groan rumbled out of the depths of Iain’s chest as he shifted to bring his body closer to her. She could feel the evidence of his arousal, but couldn’t focus on anything but what he was doing to her.

  Their breaths mingled while they lock gazes. Sensations neither had ever experienced so fully, rolled over them.

  Her name was a harsh whisper as he pushed deeper to find what he had been searching for. Her mind splintered for a moment, suddenly overcome with what was happening. Instead of shutting down with the ecstasy of what she was feeling, her mind jumped to light speed as logic played this out to its conclusion and the ending didn’t look good for her. She struggled, her mental state producing a physical reaction. Iain countered by moving to stroke her, and she knew why they called the spot a hidden bud. The gentle pressure against her clitoris sent waves through her, but the euphoria wasn’t enough to cloud her mind completely. The passion was still present, but in the background, was building a horror she couldn’t contain.

  “Wait,” She moved against him, and every muscle in his frame seemed to coil over her. “Iain.” She wasn’t sure exactly what she was pleading for, for him to stop or for him to give her a reason to stay in his arms. Maybe it wasn’t either of those things, perhaps it was really a plea that fate would be kinder because at that moment, locked in this sensual intimacy Luveday felt more keenly than ever the gap that lay between them. If fate would be kinder… but no.

  “Luveday,” he began, but she knew there was no way she could listen to what he was about to say so she tried to gently push him away shaking her head. Trying to move Iain was like an ant trying to move a mountain. The growl that echoed in her ear was worthy of one of his hounds, or the wolf he took as his emblem. The hand between her legs grew insistent, but not rough. Words issued from his mouth, but they tumbled in the space between them so that all she really heard was the tone of his voice. Had she ever heard him beg before? Surely this was as close as a man like him would come, and the thought shocked and troubled her.

  She began to struggle, holding on to him as much as pushing him away. Words poured from his lips to reassure, and comfort, to plead and to persuade if only to keep her for a few more moments. He was so close to what he desperately wanted, and he could not remember wanting anything more, not just for himself, but for her. Her pleasure made his sharper.

  “Luveday,” he repeated her name a few times before the words he was desperately searching for could be formed. “Easy, lass, easy. I will not hurt you, Luveday. Never, just let me…” and he moved to stroke her hoping the pleasure would push out all else. He was not sure at that moment, that if she began to struggle in earnest, he would be able to let her g
o. “Easy, let me give you this, Luveday. Let me…” and found her opening and carefully inserted a finger into her heat trying not to scare her. She moaned as she moved, but instead of pushing him away again she grabbed hold of his wrist. He marveled at the strength of her grip and rejoiced as she stilled. But his joy was short-lived as the word he had come to loathe was repeated. “No.”

  Iain had never been so tested, but this seemed to wrap around his will and pull him apart. He was speaking again, repeating his earlier admissions and pleading, until what he wanted came to hang in the air between them. “I’ll not take you this night, Love. Not against your will, but let me pleasure you. Let me do this.” His plea turned into a command, not sure if he would survive another denial. “I need to make you come, Luv.”

  He moved deeper feeling her heat embracing his digit. When the grip on his wrist loosened, and he saw a look in her eyes and a barest of nods; there was no more hesitation. Another finger joined the first, and he stroked with purpose, angling so that she would get the most pleasure and stroking her nub with each penetration. A few more strokes and her back arched from the ground again. He had never seen such a beautiful sight as her eyes glazing over and her mouth opened wide. Her gasps were nearly more than he could stand. Luveday didn’t let go of him, and he felt her touch as it slid further up his arm as if it were sliding up his staff.

  Another finger joined the fray and when the first spasm hit he thought he might lose himself, but he kept up a steady rhythm though it took only a half-dozen strokes before she came apart in his arms. Even the dim light could not hide her pleasure from him. His mouth drank up the cry that was torn from her, and he held onto his control by a thread.

  Her breathing slowed to a steady pace before he fully removed himself from her. The feel of his fingers sliding free from her slick folds nearly made him come, but he gritted his teeth and breathed slowly. He prided himself on his control and reminded himself that Iain De Lane was no green young man. He had patience, he had Luveday, and he would wait to see how fruitful either would be.

  When her eyes fluttered open and met him unerringly, he knew he was lost. The look in her eyes was part panic, part shame and he had never wanted to see that look on her face. It hit him in the gut, and somewhere right behind his ribs so that when she moved away from him, he was still reeling from the unexpected pain.

  He reached out to her. “Luveday,” he called, but he was too late. She dove into her side of the tent and huddled into her palate, wrapping the furs around her as if she were hiding from the world. He imagined she was crying, or perhaps she was too strong to let a single tear fall. That thought hurt him even more. He cursed himself a thousand times for a fool, a damned fool. He knew deep down he had hurt them both, though he had sworn he wouldn’t. He cursed again, but could not bring himself to be repulsed by what he had done, though logic told him it would have been better if he had let her go in those first moments. After all, how could a man miss what he had never known?

  Chapter 9

  Whatever’s lost, it first was won.

  ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Luveday didn’t cry. She stayed curled up against the cold and the bombardment of her thoughts, though she found respite from neither. She couldn’t bring herself to hate De Lane, though she tried to distance herself from him if only mentally. He hadn’t hurt her or mistreated her, he hadn’t taken anything she truly didn’t want to give, but she knew in the depths of her soul that he was not hers, and she couldn’t stomach what that meant. The endless circling of her thoughts made sleep impossible as she tried to reason out her changed situation and what options lay before her.

  Logic had always been her saving grace. She might be a closet day-dreamer, but in everyday life, she was practical, fact-oriented, and goal driven. Yes, she overthought things, but she also rarely experienced the regret of an impulse decision. It wasn’t guilt and shame that haunted her, but that glimpse of that elusive something that Iain had shown her. It was unattainable, at least with him, but that did not stop her from wanting it. It took her a great deal of effort to put that train of thought aside and focus on tomorrow. The fact that Iain wanted her was world changing, at least for her, but how much was her world going to change come dawn? That was the real question.

  She could go home, back to Lander’s Keep that is, but a part of her thought that she was just running away, and she couldn’t stomach that. She wanted to stay, this battle was far from over, and she had done a great deal of good. What if Iain asked her to go? Could she brave the look in his eyes and argue with him to let her stay? Pity would be intolerable, though disappointment or hatred would be worse, but only marginally.

  The shivers that raked her body did no good. Becoming aware of her physical state only made her think of Iain’s warm body not twenty feet away. Thinking of his warmth drew her focus to him, and she moved enough to uncover her head and listen. She could not guess how much time had passed since she fled, but she knew it had been a while, perhaps he was asleep.

  There was a noise, she had been vaguely aware of for several minutes. It was a quiet rhythm that reminded her of something, but a low groan pierced the air, and Luveday suddenly had no doubt of what she was hearing. Iain was finishing what she did not, and bringing himself to release. Hiding in her blankets and trying to drown him out was not the adult thing to do, but she didn’t know if she could handle all of this. If she were like one of the heroines in her novels, she would muster her courage and replace his hand with her own, but the thought made her curl in on herself even more.

  Her mind screamed no, but her body went liquid with the images her mind was conjuring. She was tormenting herself, and try as she might, she could not place all of the blame on De Lane. She listed off the reasons why a man like him would be interested in her. De Lane was a warrior in a high-stress environment, and he needed something to relieve that stress. She just happened to be the woman in closest proximity. Or perhaps De Lane thought that she needed comfort and their budding friendship, or attraction had taken a turn toward the intimate. Maybe De Lane was just lonely. Maybe it was just his needs, yes, men had needs, and De Lane was known to be a lusty man. It was De Lane this and De Lane that, but the mental distance wasn’t helping. Few of the reasons were worthy of him; they were more suited to her two exes’ if she could call them that. Truthfully, she could not gage his reasons. That he wanted her was a fact, but to what degree and for how long was a mystery. His actions spoke of tenderness and selflessness, but he had offered no lasting promises, not that she should have expected any. Still, a part of her had longed to hear something more that might offer hope.

  Chastising herself yet again for ignoring the facts didn’t really help. Again, she pushed the images aside, calling them delusions and hoping the negative connotations would somehow keep them in their place. She moved to her side, as the position on her stomach was becoming uncomfortable, though she was still subconsciously in a fetal position.

  Her mind resumed its course and could not deny the facts. Iain was a lord with people who depended on him. He was honor bound and tied to Christabel and desperately needed the coin this union would bring. Luveday was a lady, at least everyone believed that was so, but a poor one was little better than a peasant. She had no coin, no way to make coin other than her healing skills in a time when women had no rights and ladies had no profession. Luveday didn’t dare leave on her own, and unless she was thrown out could not see herself leaving willingly. She depended on De Lane’s charity. She knew him to be noble and honorable, and saw no hope for herself, though a pearl of it seemed to shine in her soul; it was a small and cruel hope. Anyway she looked at it, her future pivoted on Iain, and more importantly, his actions come dawn. She would gage her reactions accordingly. Her tired brain attempted to loop back around again to gnaw on her worries, when her heart decided it had had enough of this round robin and gave her a way out, for both of them when it pulled out a piece of information from her past.

  Perhaps this was me
rely a case of disaster sex. Luveday had heard of the term after 9/11 on some news station. At the time many had snickered at the thought, but it made sense to her. After a disaster or near-death experience, humans want to reaffirm their life, their vitality, and what better outlet than sex. Both of them had been under tremendous pressure, Iain fighting for his life and she was fighting for the lives of others. There were no other women as close to him as she was. When brought together by the remnants of her nightmare, was this not a logical conclusion? For some reason, these thoughts seemed to settle her. She had a reason, one that made sense to her and one that she could deal with. The responsibility for their actions was laid at both their feet equally, and her mind could finally find a measure of rest.

  Luveday fell back into her routine. The past few days since her night with Iain were so similar to before the incident that she was almost convinced it had all been a dream, that is except for the awkward silence that now fell between De Lane and herself. Luveday had taken her cue from him and acted like nothing had happened. On more than one occasion she had felt the unrelenting weight of his stare and tried not to become angry, especially at him. Each day Iain left to fight, except on the occasional rest day. Battle was hard, and Luveday wondered who decided when and where to rotate the men. Rest days made sense though this battle seemed more ridiculous to her the longer she worked.

  Now she stood before the King, Iain at her side and a number of lords eyeing her curiously. King Edward was as charming as she remembered, but not as lively. She could only imagine how lonely the man must be, and how the weight of his responsibilities must burden him. What was it like to be in charge of so many lives, to be responsible for their deaths? Shuttering at the thought, Luveday had no wish to carry that sort of power. It was terrifying to her.