A whimper escaped Rose as her memory rushed back with frightening accuracy. “Oh, God, Rand.” She reached out and clutched his forearm. “Where is Jason? Have you checked on him? Is he all right?”
Rand’s features were a stiff mask; beneath her hand his muscles tensed. “Rose, I am sorry,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. He pulled something from his purse and pressed it into her hand. It was Jason’s stone necklace.
Rose screamed, “Nay!”
She jumped from bed and slipped past Rand before he could stop her. She stumbled. Excruciating pain jabbed her skull, but she managed to tug the chamber curtain aside and lurch to Jason’s bed. It was empty, the sheets cold. Her legs collapsed and she fell to her knees.
Rand hurried after Rose. She cried out in denial again and again. “Nay. He cannot be gone. He cannot. Not my precious baby.” Sobs racked her body as she crawled onto Jason’s bed and clutched his pillow to her face.
He sat down beside her and gathered her in his arms. A convulsive breath shuddered through her; she clutched him tightly and curled up in his lap. He rubbed up and down her back, trying to soothe her pain, but he knew nothing would allay her fears until he returned Jason safely into her arms. And he knew exactly where to start.
The burning anger in his chest expanded. ’Twas that bastard Golan. Rand had no doubt the man had abducted Jason. He just could not figure out how the wretch had accomplished it. But it no longer mattered. All Rand’s energies were concentrated on finding Golan and forcing him to confess where he was holding the boy. He could not even contemplate that it might be too late; that Jason might already be dead. He had to believe Golan was simply using the boy as a pawn in order to draw Rand into a trap and kill him.
He had no intention of falling into a trap orchestrated by Golan. When they met, only one of them would come away from the confrontation alive. Should Rand not survive, he’d made a contingency plan to see Golan dead so he would never be able to harm Rose again.
Rose’s sobs quieted and her breathing became deep and even. Rand kissed the top of her bare head. He inhaled deeply the lavender and rose scent of her silky copper hair. His body quickened at the soft feel of her breasts cushioned against his chest and her buttocks pillowing his burgeoning flesh. He shifted, embarrassed at his reaction.
To hide his response, he lifted Rose and took her into her bedchamber. He glanced around but Edith was gone. Rand laid her down on the bed, then sat beside her and brushed back the fiery locks of her hair. The gold highlights shimmered in the lamplight.
Slowly, she eased her white-knuckled grip open, revealing the stone necklace he had found by her body. “’Tis Jason’s. I gave it to him. He always carries it with him.” Her voice was raspy with misery.
Rand swallowed the clot of emotion in the back of his throat. “I promise, Rose,” he said, his voice laced with steely resolve, “I shall get Jason back and see Golan dead for daring to lay a hand on your son. I have already made arrangements. I leave at first light.”
Her eyes gazed up at him crystalline with her tears. He saw sadness, guilt, and love reflected back at him. His breath caught; his heart beat a rapid tattoo. Surely it was not love he saw reflected in her gaze, for at that moment, the blue depths of her eyes sparked with a ruthless light of determination. She reached over and placed the necklace on the table. Then turning back to him, she cupped both his cheeks in her palms and drew his face down to hers. He told himself to pull back, that Rose was vulnerable, was not in her right mind, and knew not what she was doing.
Just as she knew not what she asked of him all those years ago, when, in her grief for her brother, Alex, whom they all had believed was dead, she’d begged Rand to make love to her.
Now her desire-glazed eyes dropped to his mouth. Her pink tongue darted out and slowly licked her plump bottom lip to a glistening ruby red. As she swirled her tongue over her upper lip next, he imagined that tongue licking his erect flesh. Pleasure stabbed sharp and swift, and his phallus jerked.
Rand inhaled then exhaled to control his rampaging desire. But temptation was too great. A ragged groan escaped him and he pressed his lips to her softer, fuller, irresistible bowed lips. A soft moan skimmed his mouth when she deepened her kiss. With a patience he never knew he had, Rand allowed Rose to control the pace of the kiss, marveling at the wonder and joy thrumming through his heart at her bold yet shy explorations.
Rose reclined on the bed, pulling Rand down on top of her. His powerful chest muscles flexed against her breasts, radiating a tingling heat into the sensitive flesh of her nipples, making them harden into stiff points. The pressure and strength of him emboldened her. She reached down between their bodies and clasped her hand over the hard ridge of flesh pressing against her thigh.
Rand groaned long and low and surged up into her hand. He pulled his head back and stared questioningly into her eyes. “I have to know, Rose. Are you sure this is what you want? You’re hurting and vulnerable right now. I don’t want you to regret what we do, as you did last time we—”
She shook her head and pressed two fingers to his lips. A need unlike any she’d ever experienced demanded she explore it. “Nay, Rand. I have never been surer of anything in my life. I’m tired of being afraid. Golan has taken Jason from me.” Her voice quivered with distress, but she bravely continued, “And you are going into danger to retrieve him. God forfend, should something happen to you or Jason, I do not want to look back and remember naught but my fear and terror. I want you to make love to me, nay, need you to. My only regret would be if you walk away from me now without showing me how much you truly want me. Unless…Do you still want me?”
“Oh, God. You cannot truly know how much.”
“Then show me, won’t you?” Her voice trembled, a small part of her still unsure whether he wanted her. As desperately, as recklessly, as passionately as she wanted him.
But Rand erased all her doubts when, his gaze searing hers, he crushed her to him and slanted his lips boldly over her mouth. His kiss was wild and passionate and hot. Then his tongue delved between her lips and seized her tongue in a velvety, seductive caress.
He groaned deeply. She moaned softly.
Rose had not lied about why she wanted Rand to make love to her. But she had not told him the whole truth either. Golan’s note had demanded she tell no one of her sacrifice to rescue Jason. It was up to Rose to save her son. And she would gladly give up her life for Jason.
She loved her son so much she would die in order that he would live and be safely returned to his father. But until now, she’d never realized how strong she was. If she could face death, she knew her fears of intimacy were as inconsequential as fairy dust.
Indeed. Once she falsely confessed to murdering Bertram, however many days she had remaining to her, she wanted to look back on her life without regrets. To remember that she had been loved and cherished by Rand, at least as much as he would ever allow himself to love a woman.
Rand quickly divested them of their clothing. Stripped down to her chemise, Rose tugged Rand’s sherte over his head. Then he stood beside the bed, and, after untying the lace in the rolled band of his braies, he shoved them with his hose down to his ankles and stepped out of them.
She slowly perused his naked body, the glow from the hanging bedside lamp shimmering him with light and shadow. With his shoulders arched, Rand stood still, proudly displaying his form while she examined every exquisite muscle and tendon and sinew of his superb body, from his broad shoulders, to his narrow waist, to his thick, muscular thighs and sturdy calves.
But her eyes were drawn like a magnet to the thick shaft that sprang up from a nest of dark blond hair. Thick veins pulsing with blood twined around the tumescent, vermilion flesh. Ready to possess her. Ready to cherish her.
Rose shot her gaze up to Rand, her eyes wide and expectant. Rand removed her chemise, the last barrier, and crawled into bed with her. Then he shocked her when he turned onto his back, grabbed her waist, and rolled her on top of him. She sa
t on him, loins touching loins, her thighs splayed around his hips.
Her hair cascaded down around them. He grabbed a section, brought it to his nose and whiffed. A ragged moan emerged from his lips. She felt it rumble all the way down in his stomach and quiver in her feminine core with a tingling heat.
Then he cupped her cheek and stared into her eyes. His intense gaze deepened to the vivid green of a forest, which she nearly got lost in. “You are beautiful, Rose. Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” His voice was a raspy caress.
The air whooshed from her lungs. Her chest rose rapidly to catch her breath. Her heart filled with love and longing. And of regret—for what could have been, and for selfishly denying Rand his son.
He draped her hair back over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his gaze. He stared as though spellbound, eyes glittering with desire, and then slowly lifted them to hers. Delving deeply into her eyes, he reached up and covered her breasts with his hands, massaging and kneading them. “Your breasts were made for me alone. See how perfectly they conform to my hands.”
Her breasts swelled. She bit her lip as his palms abraded the aching peaks. His hand drifted down her stomach, in a slow, smooth caress. Her breath hitched when two fingers glided along her slick folds and plunged inside her sheath. Caressing her until she gasped in pleasure. Wet, she drenched his fingers.
She blushed, embarrassed. Bertram had upbraided her for the same reaction. “I am sorry. I did not mean to do that.”
She rose partway to get off him, but Rand clutched her hips.
“Nay, don’t move. You haven’t done anything wrong. The moisture is your body’s natural response, which allows me to enter you without you feeling pain. How can that be wrong?”
She chewed the corner of her lip and nodded. For too long she had allowed Bertram control over her thoughts and feelings, but she would no longer give him the power to reach from the grave to denigrate and demean her. She wiggled her hips. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take me inside you, Rose,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Ride me. That way you control the pace. You direct me on the course we pursue.”
Rose’s eyes widened in surprise, but she did as he said, her eyes downcast with shyness. Rising onto her knees, she took him in her hand. His member, hard yet encased in velvety softness, seared her hand. She poised the bulbous head at her entry and slid down on him in one smooth, luxurious stroke.
Rand clutched her hips, groaning. His hands rotated her, grinding her against him. Her inner flesh rippled with contractions and she moaned.
“Jesu, you feel amazing, incredible. Why did we wait so long to do this?”
Rose smiled with a teasing grin. “Because you are amazingly stubborn and I am incredibly hardheaded?”
A deep chuckle rumbled through him, the vibrations quivering along his shaft and setting off a hot shivery caress between her thighs. She gasped, a breathy moan of surprise and pleasure.
With an instinct born of pent-up desire, she withdrew all the way to the tip of his shaft, then drove down again. Awkwardly at first, her movements slow and unsure, she thrust up and down his smooth shaft. His masculine scent of leather and pine mingled with the essence of their musky desire ensorcelled her. Soon she caught on to an exquisite rhythm that had him moaning in ecstasy, her back arched as she leaned back on one hand to give her leverage, hips pumping up and down in a wild gyration; the friction and heat of him inside sparked fire along her flesh.
Rose stared down at Rand; his tender gaze held hers, conveying his love and joy at the beauty of their joining. Then he lifted his hands off her hips, clutched her shoulders, and pulled her down to him. His lips seared into hers, her breasts cushioned against his hard strength. She gloried in this moment—their hearts beat as one. Gloried at her newfound courage to break free from the bonds of her abusive past.
Rose met the wild thrusts of Rand’s flanks, the slap of the flesh of their bodies humming in her ears along with their panting breaths.
“Rose, oh, God, look at me, love.” His desperate voice thrilled her. “I’m almost there. I need you with me.”
Rose stared into Rand’s eyes. With one heaving thrust, spasms of tingling heat exploded along her inner folds. Rose cried out. Her sheath contracted around his thick shaft. And ecstasy shivered through her.
Rand watched Rose shatter before him, her beautiful crystal eyes wide with wonder and revelation. Elated, his heart bursting with joy, he pumped his hips wildly as fiery pleasure shivered through his shaft. With one final thrust, his essence spurted inside her as he shouted out her name. Drained, he collapsed back upon the soft mattress.
He clutched Rose to him, her soft-scented breath panting heavily in his ear. She snuggled against his side, laying her head on his chest and her arm around his waist. A great shuddering sigh escaped his lips. Contentment unlike aught he’d ever felt before flowed through him. His eyelids grew heavy, but he reached for the coverlet and fur and draped them over him and Rose. Exhaustion overtook him and darkness descended.
Rand woke rolling over in bed, his first thought of Rose. Cold from the absence of her body heat, he reached out to pull her next to him. His hands came up empty and his eyes snapped open. He flipped the covers off and ran his hand over the indention in the mattress made by her body. The bedding was cool to the touch as if she’d risen from bed some time ago.
Likely she was anxious for the safe return of Jason, yet why had she not woken him? Rand jumped off the bed and reached for his clothes on the floor beside the bed. But they were no longer there. He moved to the chamber door to call for his squire and saw his garments folded neatly on the chest at the foot of the bed. He smiled at Rose’s considerate gesture. It was so like her to think of others, even in the midst of her own unhappiness.
After he called Will, he began dressing. He’d pulled on his braies and hose, but when he reached for his sherte a crinkling sound alerted him to the presence of a piece of parchment folded within the garment. Puzzled, he withdrew the parchment and held it up to the glimmer of sunlight now piercing through the double arched window.
“My lord, you called?”
Rand waved Will to hush and read the delicate slanted words addressed to him.
Forgive me, Rand. But I can’t let you sacrifice your life for my mistakes. I know you do not understand, but soon all will be revealed. Until then, I beg you to stay at Ayleston, where, once I’ve done as Golan has demanded, word will arrive of Jason’s whereabouts and you can get him back from his captor. I pray that you do not intervene on my behalf and that you leave me to my fate. Jason’s life depends upon it. Our son shall need his father when I am gone.
Disbelieving, Rand blinked and then reread the missive. When he reread the last line, a sick feeling rumbled in the pit of his stomach. Did Rose truly mean Jason was his son and not Bertram’s? His body began to shake; legs wobbling, he stumbled backward and sat down on the chest heavily. He dropped his head in his hands as the world he knew suddenly spun around and flipped him on his head. He had a son. Jason was his son. His body began to shake harder as the implications of Rose’s missive began to register.
Rand lunged up from the chest roaring with sick comprehension. Not only was Jason in Golan’s brutal custody, but Rose was intent on sacrificing herself for Jason’s return, although he had yet to understand in what manner.
“My lord. What is amiss?”
Rand reached for his sherte and tugged it over his head.
“Rose has gone to Golan in order to take Jason’s place.” He waved the missive at Will. “She’s explained it here in her letter. I need to catch her before she reaches Chester. Then I shall retrieve Jason even if it kills me.”
“What can I do to help, milord?”
“Saddle the fastest horse we have in the stable. I ride for Chester anon. And send word to Amaury de Valence to meet me at my house at Chester without delay.”
“I shall do so right away.” Will rushed out of the chamber.
Rand sat back
down on the chest and pulled on his calf-high boots. He ruthlessly ignored the fear that clawed inside him as though he’d swallowed a dragon. With raw determination he retrieved the sword belt and scabbard leaning against the washstand and belted it around his waist. Then he retrieved a voluminous, dark, hooded cloak.
He intended to forego his armor, shield, and spurs. Stealth and deception were required if he was to get Jason and Rose back unharmed. He refused to consider any other possible result. No matter Rose’s betrayal, Rand did not want to live in a world without her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
On the road outside the gates of Chester Castle, Rose slid down off her palfrey’s back. Trying to soothe her own nervousness, she stroked the mare’s silky neck, her gaze straying to the large gray marble stone nearby. “I shall continue on from here by myself now, Geoffrey.” She looked back up at the lad still mounted. “I don’t know what kind of reception I’ll receive. I would not forgive myself if aught should happen to you because you accompanied me.”
“My lady. Are you sure this is what you wish to do?”
“Aye, Geoffrey. I have no other choice. Do not fear for me, though. I do not regret trading my life for my son’s. Just as your parents willingly died protecting you, I am content that Jason will live on without me. Sir Rand will see that he is well cared for.”
Geoffrey nodded, an odd gleam in his round blue eyes.
“Go on now, Geoffrey. Thank you for your assistance in sneaking the mare from the castle.” She swatted her horse on the rump and it set off at a trot down Castle Lane, back toward Bridge Street and the road that led back to Ayleston.
Rose pulled her cloak tighter around her and entered through the castle gate behind a cart loaded with barrels of salted cod. Its wheels rumbled on the cobbles in the darkened tunnel, and a tremor of fear reverberated down her spine like a gloomy echo. The outer bailey was large, but wherever she looked it bustled with activity. Soldiers mustering for the summer offensive into Wales waited in a line near the northern castle wall where a castle official handed out supplies of blankets and bread to the new recruits. Supplies of wine, ale, fish, and grain were being brought in from the harbor and surrounding countryside and stored in the castle cellars.
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