Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  It was not enough. He wanted to go slowly. He imagined this day for so long he dreamed of patient control, but he found it abandoned him. In a frenzy he pulled his clothes off, flinging them away as he quickly parted her legs and moved between them. She lay on her back, her green eyes half closed with desire as she stared up at him. She did not fight, she was his for the taking.

  “Say you’ll marry me.”

  He was so close to plunging into her. He could feel her heat as he pushed himself against her entrance. How sweet it was going to be. Her answer could not stop him, no matter what it was. But he had to hear it. It was maddening as he waited just outside the gates of heaven, as she stared up at him. He ran his hands up her calves to her knees, and spread them wider, positioning himself to plunge in. He was on the precipice, nothing was stopping him, and nothing could stop him.

  “Yes,” she panted, as her eyes fluttered closed and her hips rose up off the bed, sliding herself up around him. He fell over her and drove himself to the hilt. It was all he imagined it would be, and more. He pulled out and plunged in again. Alena wrapped her long legs around his waist, and locked her heels behind his back, her arms came around his shoulders, and her nails dug into his back as he pulled out only to plunge back in. He sat a mad rhythm that sent him exploding over the edge when he felt her orgasm release around him. He spilled his seed deep in his wife. She may never bare him children, but it would never stop him from enjoying the ecstasy he found in her arms.

  Roland gently climbed from the bed, leaving Emma snoring lightly in it. She spoke a little about the baby, she was obviously happy about it. Yet, she spoke nothing of their future together. There was no insinuation they would be married and live happily ever after. Despite Roland’s relief, he felt he was disturbed by this. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with Emma. He wanted her with him, but he didn’t want another wife. He wasn’t sure how he was going to mend the rift between him and his current children. He had to do something, not only did he suddenly feel as if he was dishonoring Lillian, but he could never have a relationship with Emma’s child if he did not have one with his first children.

  He dressed and left the chamber. The hallways were dark as he made his way to the front of the Manor. As he stepped into the courtyard he looked first to the gate, it was closed tightly. Then his eyes went to the shadows around the courtyard and up to the wall. Nothing was out of place. No threat lurked. On the wall he recognized the silhouette of Damien. He knew it was the older brother for he stood taller, without the bent of pain Cyrille had when he was watching upon the wall.

  Roland debated on leaving the man alone with his thoughts, but the door behind him opened and Garrick stepped out.

  “What brings you out this night? I thought you would be basking in the glory with your wife,” Roland said, hoping to get a note of teasing in his voice, but it fell short.

  “Doesn’t it scare you to death?”

  “What’s that?” Roland asked, as Garrick joined him and his gaze went to the wall where Damien stood.

  “Being a father?”

  “I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  Garrick studied him for a moment, before motioning him in the direction of Damien. The man turned his head and nodded at them, before turning his gaze back to the landscape, as they joined him.

  “Do you think more trouble is coming?” Garrick asked, his eyes scanning the landscape as well.

  “I hope the only trouble coming our way is those children of yours.” Damien said with a chuckle, turning to lean against the wall. “I was just wishing I had some of my old land back with my title,” Damien said, looking at Roland. “I always thought when this day came I would be able to reward you with another piece of property.”

  Roland stared at his lord for a moment, before clapping him on his shoulder. “It does not matter.”

  “Did you have property before?” Garrick asked, his gaze falling on them, before going back to the landscape. Roland wondered if any of them would ever get rid of the need to always look over their shoulder.

  “When I married, Damien granted me a beautiful little manor house, and enough property to sublet. It was all we needed.” Roland realized his voice sounded wistful, and he straightened, clearing his throat. “When Richard took Damien’s lands and titles, my property went with it.”

  “Are you going to marry her?” Garrick asked, suddenly turning to look at Roland.

  “I was married once. I care not to be again,” Roland replied, decisively.

  “You are okay with your child running about being called bastard?” Garrick asked, and there was no doubt how he felt about it.

  “I don’t know what I am okay with.”

  “Marry her and take back your children and I will give you Wellington Keep,” Garrick said. For a man who fought endlessly for more and more property and wealth, he was suddenly ready to give it away.

  “No,” Roland said, without hesitation.

  “You really have turned out to be a despicable fellow,” Garrick snared.

  “It is not that,” Roland said, quickly. “I have no desire to have my own property again. I want my children back, but I fear for them. Not only do they look like Lillian, but I cannot protect them when we are alone. I didn’t realize until I was bringing Emma here, that it is my biggest fear. I feel safe among you, within these walls. I guess safety in numbers. I can’t protect them out there.”

  “Then live here. There is room for you, Emma and your children,” Damien offered.

  “I bet Keri will have something to say about that,” Roland said.

  Damien scoffed. “She does as I say.”

  “Since when?” Garrick asked, getting a glare from Damien.

  “She already said she likes Emma. With our kids, we will have a house full. It will be nice,” Damien declared, and in his voice Roland could hear a different Damien. He was no longer the leader of armies, but a man who looked forward to a quiet settlement with the racket of children underfoot.

  “If Emma does not stay?” Roland asked.

  “Was she going somewhere?” Garrick asked.

  “I don’t know,” Roland admitted.

  “Have you asked her to stay?”

  Roland shook his head, but even in the dim light, with the stars overhead, they saw. “Good God man, what is wrong with you?” Garrick asked. “The woman carries your child, and you don’t even offer to care for her?”

  “Have you talked with her at all?” Damien asked, irritation evident in his question.

  “No.”

  “Are you waiting for it to be born?” Garrick asked.

  “No, I was…”

  “I’m going to leave you two to fight this one out. I am going to check on Cyrille.”

  “Is he going to be all right?” Roland asked.

  Damien shook his head, “Not if Grace does not live.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have my life tied to some woman,” Garrick said.

  “Yeah, like that little wife of yours doesn’t have you running behind her, sniffing up her skirts.”

  Damien rolled his eyes at Roland’s crudeness. All the way to Cyrille’s chamber he wondered how to deal with Cyrille, if Grace did die. He did not think there would be any way. Cyrille would be out of his mind, he knew this by the way he protected her, refused anyone else to care for her.

  He entered the room quietly. Cyrille sat by the bed, turning to look in Damien’s direction before turning his attention back to the woman in his bed.

  Damien walked to his side and knelt next to him. Cyrille’s hand held hers gently. “Any change?”

  “No,” Cyrille replied, and Damien could hear his frustration.

  They sat in silence for a long time and finally, Damien straightened to leave his brother alone. “I didn’t know what to do with her,” Cyrille said, his whisper stopping him. “She said she loved me, but I didn’t understand how. I still don’t. I do know she is the only woman to look at me the way she does. I know there will never be an
other. Do you know how I missed that? The way women looked at me? I used to be able to get them to smile at me, just by looking their way. I used to see their hunger for me in their eyes.”

  “Give her a chance. She’s a fighter.”

  Cyrille nodded, but Damien didn’t think he was much help. Damien clapped a hand on his back, as he turned and left the room.

  They were cutting out his eye. He felt the blade, the pain, the darkness. He heard the screams. Rolling on and on inside his head, before he realized it was his own voice raised to fight against the heat of the flames. The pain made him come awake with a gasp, and he nearly fell from the chair he sat upon. His eyes fell on Grace, but her eyes remained closed. He was ready to dismiss his wakefulness to another nightmare, when he felt Grace’s finger move in his hand. He froze, waiting. It twitched again, a bigger movement.

  “Grace,” he said, bending forward to touch her face. “Grace.” He rubbed her cheeks gently, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Then her eyes fluttered open and she was looking at him. She smiled sweetly at him, and Cyrille thought he would never be able to breathe again. The breath he finally drew was a shuddering one

  “What has happened?” she asked, as her eyes searched his concerned face.

  “Warner grabbed you, but Emma shot him in the back as he ran. You both fell from the horse and we could not wake you.”

  “Warner is he…?”

  “He’s dead,” Cyrille said.

  “Did anyone else get hurt?” she asked him, her hand rising to cup his resting against her cheek.

  “No. We are all fine.”

  She watched him for a moment before asking, “Will you lie down with me? I’m cold.”

  Cyrille didn’t hesitate to pull the blankets back and climb in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her shivering for a moment, before she settled down and slept again, but this time it was peaceful slumber, without the question hovering over her whether she would live or die.

  4 years later

  Cyrille crouched behind the shrub, he heard the footsteps coming closer and closer. He heard the steady steps of Patrick, and the unsteady ones of his sister.

  “Look Pat,” Ellie said, in her excited voice.

  “Shhhh,” was her big brother’s response.

  Closer still, until Cyrille could not contain himself any longer. He plunged upward and outward, landing in his son’s path. Patrick gasped and Ellie was consumed by a fit of giggles.

  “Cyrille!” Grace called. “It’s getting too cold for the children. Bring them inside now.”

  Cyrille looked to his wife standing in the doorway, the heat from inside flowing out around her. He waved to her, and bending scooped both children up in his arms, and carried them toward the house. His body still hurt, but these days it was mind over matter. He didn’t have to fight, he just had to stand up to the rigors of family life.

  Stepping inside the little cottage, the heat surrounded him, and the smell of dinner. Garrick was most kind to him and his family. When Roland would not accept property, he offered the small cottage to Cyrille. It was the perfect home for him, it was isolated, and he no longer felt the need to wear his hood, because no one but his family was around.

  Each spring and fall they gathered at Kinsey for a feast, with all the other knights and their wives. Except Jillian, even now he felt sadness for Halvor who lost his wife after she gave birth to their son. She survived a little while, but never recovered, and passed away in her sleep. The boy never was absent of a mother figure, with all his aunts, he had all he could handle.

  Garrick was blessed with two sons to add to all the children running about his keep. Each time he saw the Bastard, Cyrille could not associate that man with the Garrick that smiled a lot and embraced the life he shared with his Countess. Keri and Damien just had a little girl, and by the way her father doted on her, one would think the angels brought her down from heaven. Emma’s first child was a boy, and her second a girl. Roland had a family again, including Will and Jill. After the first year of the reunited family, Will left to foster with Lord Garrick and was now the man’s squire, learning quickly the lessons taught him, on the safety of the practice field and not the horrors of a battlefield.

  “Are you hungry?” Grace asked, setting a plate of meat upon the little table. He would have to make a bigger table soon. There was little room with Patrick and Ellie old enough to eat at it. In the crib Adam made a sniffing sound in his sleep, and Carol tottered over to peer inside, her little legs barely holding her, but she was getting the hang of it.

  “I am famished,” he said, taking a seat. Grace came to plant a kiss upon his head, and he placed his hand on her round stomach, feeling his fifth child kick. Carol made a beeline for him, and despite his stiff back, he bent and lifted her into his lap.

  “Let’s eat then,” Grace said, taking a seat next to him. The two oldest children climbed onto their bench, and like most evenings, Cyrille became overwhelmed with the joy that filled his heart. He felt his wife, and the family he loved, was a miracle he was thankful for each day.

  Perhaps the biggest miracle of all when they gathered at Kinsey this spring, would be the celebration of the birth of Alena and Marcus’s first child. A messenger brought the news a month ago, a son was born to the couple. Cyrille felt the life they all led had come full circle, and there was peace and love to take the place of the violence they once knew.

  Miss the previous books in this series?

  Book 1

  Set to Flame

  Garrick Fenton was born to the village whore, he had nothing to lose when he made the decision to take what he wanted. Sir Marcus Kinsey was the only man who could stand in his way. When the knight rode into Garrick’s camp and practically handed his home over to Garrick, the infamous Fenton Bastard was born. He sold his soul to the highest bidder, the King of England, and would not be stopped in his frenzy for wealth and power. But land gained is only as good as a king’s grace, which comes at a high price.

  Alena had no hope of rescue when her parents were killed and she was hidden away by an emir. Regarded as Ghalib’s prize, Alena incurred the wrath of the other women she was forced to share her home with. When the five knights and one boy were brought into her prison, she recognized them as her own kind. These were not knights in shining armor as those in the stories her mother told her, but men honed on battlefields. Fearing her own death if caught, she could not make herself turn her back on them. Though they frightened her, they were not as terrifying as the possibility of spending the rest of her life shut away and alone.

  Book 2

  The Lethal Flame

  Lord Damien LeForte is a knight for the Crown of England. Knighted by Henry II, Damien is proud to wear his spurs, even when that crown is passed to Henry’s son, Richard I. But Richard is not prepared to forgive the knight for his part in defending the crown against him. To prove his loyalty, Damien must destroy those who support Richard’s brother, Prince John. Faced with his toughest test of loyalty, Damien vows he will do what he must, because those supporting John oppose the Crown Damien has dedicated his life to protect.

  Growing up among the knights and squires of her father, Lady Keri Adlam is unprepared for marriage, especially to the lazy Lord Bryson. After bearing his second child, Keri refuses to be a true wife to Bryson again. When the King’s men accuse Bryson of being a traitor, she sees her husband for the coward he is. She finds loyalty in only a handful of knights as she faces off with the King’s men, to protect her children. But her defense of her children is misconstrued as her opposition to King Richard, and she finds herself forced to answer for her husband’s sins.

  Book 3

  The Darkest Flame

  Born to nothing, Lord Garrick Fenton sold his soul to the highest bidder, the King of England. He proved himself on the battlefields and off, squelching rebellions, and at times killing just for the King’s pleasure. From whore’s bastard to Lord, Garrick made many enemies along the way. Despite the wealt
h he accumulated, the stigma of his birth would forever haunt him. The only hope to provide a better future for his children, was to gain a betrothal to a titled lady. He found what he was looking for in Countess Ryann Kinnard.

  Lord Daniel Stroud was a first born son among the English aristocracy, and people like the Bastard were not fit to wipe his boots. Betrothal to the Countess is the last straw for Stroud, whether he gains the wrath of the King or not, the Bastard has to be stopped.