Angie Arms - Flame Series 03

by The Darkest Flame

  Ryann lay awake long through the night. The fact the keep was not being watched and the villagers were again unharassed, did nothing to ease the insomnia of the previous nights. She again counted the time to her last meal, and thought perhaps food would help, but her stomach lurched in protest. Finally, she abandoned the thought of sleep, frustratingly climbed from the large bed, and donned a cloak and made her way out to the courtyard then up onto the wall. The night guardsmen called a good evening to her as she stepped upon the walkway, her presence was unremarkable with its regularity.

  The stars drifted in and out behind the clouds, the moon only a sliver in the night sky. She sent a prayer up that her husband was safe and he would soon return to her. The prayer turned into a plea so gut wrenching in sincerity, she found herself on her knees, her head bowed as her fingers were clasped tightly in her lap, her quiet sobs going ignored by any guard who might hear them. Running out of steam, she climbed to her feet and cast a glance out over the landscape. Nothing moved, the darkness settled over her, as she turned and left the wall.

  Chapter 21

  He swore he would never leave her again. As he hurried his men back toward Fenton, it echoed in his head he would never leave her side, never spend a day away from her beautiful face and gentle smile. Yet, reality pushed its way into his thoughts, and he knew such a vow was of no use. When he saw the village of Fenton in the shadows of the night, he spurred Malik in a mad dash toward the keep, with Marcus and Halvor close on his heels. One call to the guard and the gates were opened. Garrick spared only enough time to hear those inside the keep were well, before bounding toward his chamber.

  Now he stared down at her, the full moon casting light upon her, as the heavens would an angel. She looked so tired, her cheeks appeared sunken, her skin pale, and even in her slumber, her eyes looked drawn at the corners. She moaned and turned, a lock of her golden hair falling over her lips. He had told himself he would allow her to sleep, but he could not leave the lock of hair. He was drawn to it, as a moth to a flame. Gently he reached for it, the tip of his finger barely brushing it, before Ryann sat bolt upright.

  There was no moment that sleep had hold of her, only alertness in her startled blue eyes. She knew him instantly, her eyes raked over him, and then she flung the covers from herself and launched herself at him in one fluid motion. He caught her small body as it slammed into him, her warmth enveloped him, welcomed him home.

  “Garrick,” his name sounded breathy on her voice. He held her against him, and he knew all the roads that led to this moment were all worth it. If his soul was forever blackened, it was but a small sacrifice as he held his wife in his arms.

  His hand snaked into her hair, and he pulled her head gently back from where it was buried against his chest, so he could look down upon her face. He saw only joy in her glowing eyes, and the contented smile upon her face.

  “I feared you were dead” she whispered, as if speaking it out loud would make it true.

  “Not even death could keep me from you,” he whispered back, before his hand tightened in her hair and his lips met hers. Desperation began as soon as his lips touched hers, and she gasped from the tug on her hair. His tongue invaded her mouth, stroking the tip of hers, sucking, and demanding she reciprocate. She boldly advanced, and he sucked it further into his mouth, his teeth scraping before he released her, to stroke her tongue with his.

  The taste of her, the sound of her moans, and the way she relaxed into him, only fueled his desperation to consume her. He grappled awkwardly with his belt, his sword getting tangled, slowing his progress, making him want to curse and laugh at the same time that he, the Fenton Bastard, would be doing anything awkwardly with a sword. Item after item came off in a frenzied state that made Garrick feel as if it was an eternity. He had no more patience with his own attire, his desire was reaching a crescendo and he had to touch her and taste her. Pulling back slightly, he grabbed the neck of her thin gown and with one frantic yank, he ripped it down the front.

  “Garrick,” she gasped, as his head swooped down, his hand leaving her hair to brace against her back and hold her in place, as he hungrily locked onto a nipple. She gasped again before saying, “That was my favorite.”

  “I will buy you hundreds more,” he said, raising his head only long enough to speak those words, before turning his attention to the other nipple. The taste of her was not enough. In frustration he pulled away, and returned to her lips, his hand again in her hair, forcing them closer, his mouth claimed her roughly and she whimpered. In his clouded mind it registered he could be hurting her, and nearly pulled away before a moan crossed her lips, and she ground her hips into his.

  His hands flew down to her waist where he gripped her firmly, and pressed their hips together, staring down into her heavy lidded blue eyes, eyes so full of passion he felt he would come undone. He wanted to throw her down and drive himself into her, but at the same time he wanted to explore every inch of her, see how passionate his little wife was.

  One hand remained on her hip, while the other he slipped lower until he inserted a finger into her warmth. Ryann cried out, her hips swayed toward him, but his other hand held her still. Her eyes flew open wide, and she scowled at him for not allowing her the freedom of her movement. He couldn’t help the smirk that he gave her, before stroking his finger in and out of her. Her head fell back with a moan, and she gave herself over to his strong, steady strokes, with his thumb brushing across her clitoris.

  He watched her climax, felt her release explode around his finger, and he thought he never saw anything as beautiful as his wife at that very moment. He allowed her her release, before he flipped her over onto the bed, placing her on her knees. With her ass aimed at him, the delicate skin glowing in the moonlight, he lowered his head and nipped at her. She gasped, sucking in her stomach, and thereby pulling a small distance from him. He grinned to himself, then with his superior strength, he used one hand to force her head down onto the mattress, his hand wrapped in her hair, and she was vulnerably exposed to him.

  Again he nipped at her delicate flesh, but this time he followed the teeth with his tongue, swirling it around before planting a kiss. He moved over her flesh pulling moans from her as he licked and sucked, and gasps as he nipped at her. She nearly shot from the bed when his tongue penetrated her without warning, his chuckle was muffled by her rounded buttocks, as he stroked in and out of her. His hand moved from her head to hold her by the hips, but she was beyond rising, as she writhed and pressed back against him. She was close to another release when he rose, released himself, and slid deep inside her. With two strokes he could feel her pulsing around him, he withdrew and slammed into her, making her cry his name. He pulled slowly out, and slammed violently all the way back in and to the hilt. She cried his name again, and he exploded inside her. Everything he was flowed through his body, a pulse so strong and fluid he shuddered.

  Reality seemed to fade for a moment, and he came back to it, within a few breaths, to hear Ryann panting before him with his finger tips still digging into the flesh at her hips. He eased his grip, stroking the delicate skin he was sure he bruised in his fervor. He pulled himself out of her, with a feeling of regret he could not stay in that paradise forever. Gently he rolled her to her side and on to her back. Satiated blue eyes looked back at him, and he felt himself shudder at the sweet purity that was his wife.

  “I am sorry I hurt you,” he said gently, then acting on impulse he bent forward and placed a light kiss on each hip, where his fingers were still imprinted.

  “You did not hurt me,” she replied with a gentle chuckle. “I have survived far worse than you.”

  He saw she regretted her words immediately, by the change in the lines of her face and the weariness that crossed her eyes. Garrick did not know how to respond, so he bent down and nipped a spot on her stomach next to her belly button, making her squeal. When she tried to pull away, he nipped her again, then used his tongue to trace a path around her belly button and upward, all t
he way up between her breasts, up the side of her neck, to end with the gentlest of nips behind her ear, making her sigh.

  “I am glad you are home,” the words Ryann spoke brought light to his soul, and he felt as if the darkness began to fade.

  “I am glad you are safe,” he said tenderly, rising from her. She propped herself up on her elbows. Drawing her knees up so her feet were flat on the bed and she rocked herself. It was a nervous reaction, her movements of a person deciding what bad news to impart first. Yet what he saw burned forever within his soul, his wife in all her magnificent glory, breast thrust forward by her posture, her feminine jewel between her legs flashing provocatively at him.

  “I did not spare time to find out what happened in the village. Would you care to fill me in?” He turned away deliberately. Despite sparing time for much needed time in his wife’s arms, he could no longer ignore whatever disaster had befallen his land, so could not afford for her luscious body to draw him in again. “Dress yourself,” he knew his voice came out a little too harshly, but even not looking at her he knew what she looked like, still sprawled out on the bed behind him.

  “Ghalib still lives and came to get Alena,” she began as he heard her to rise from the bed.

  “What?” Garrick snarled, turning quickly and taking steps that brought him back to her.

  “He destroyed the village, killed Christopher,” he heard the barely suppressed sob threaten her voice.

  He grabbed Ryan’s delicate form and pulled her to him, all thoughts of his lust gone, his only desire to comfort her sorrow. “I didn’t want to let her go,” she said, nearly frantic as she pulled away from him enough to look up into his face. “But they were killing the children, I had no choice.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but only one fell before he hugged her to him for a brief moment, before releasing her.

  “Get dressed and we will talk of this.” He went about gathering his own clothes, and soon they sat before the warm hearth, Ryann cuddled in his lap as the light broke through the night, and he learned of what befell Fenton while he was away.

  “I apologize for opening the gates against your wishes,” Ryann said. “I could do nothing else,” she turned to look at him, her blue eyes beseeching his forgiveness.

  Garrick stared at her grimly. If he had not stayed to torture Stroud longer, he could have been there before she had to open the gates. “It is I who am sorry you had to open the gates. It seems each time you need me, I am off on a fool’s errand.”

  “Did you find Stroud?” she asked, turning back to stare into the flames as she rested her head back against his chest.

  Garrick nodded and he heard her sigh. “Was it a glorious blow you dealt him?”

  “It was not I who struck the death blow.” Suddenly he did not find the need to tell her of allowing Stroud his slow death. “But he is dead and so are the others, and that is what matters.”

  Quiet filled the room and after a moment, he felt Ryann nod slightly. “Will you go to search for Alena?” she asked, after a few more moments of silence.

  “I must go meet Richard, he wants to take Normandy back.” Ryann stilled in his arms, the finger she stroked across his chest stopped, and his heart broke into a million pieces. Taking her hand, he slid it off himself and stood.

  “I must find Marcus and speak to him.”

  Ryann stood and turned, he watched her eyes flow over him like a warm river. “I want you to stay,” she said, as her eyes collided with his.

  Garrick wanted to tell her he never wanted to leave, instead he turned and left the room.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Marcus was farther along in his preparations than Garrick would have thought. He found him in the stable, packing the last of his provisions onto the back of his horse. Across the way Roland did the same. Garrick’s temper was pricked as he watched the quick movements of both men. One was in a hurry to save the woman he loved, and he would bet the other was in a hurry to flee.

  “So you would go without my leave?”

  “You know I have to go,” Marcus said, a little angrily.

  “I need you here,” Garrick said, moving to stand next to him.

  Marcus made a scoffing sound. “You don’t need me. You have Halvor,” Marcus said, still refusing to look at Garrick.

  “I have given Halvor Hawknest and Bruce’s widow.”

  At that news Marcus paused, and Garrick could not mistake the anger behind his eyes.

  “Richard has ordered me to his side. He leaves for Normandy.”

  “He has made the same demand of Damien,” Roland said. “He will not go.”

  Garrick looked at Roland as he led his horse from the stable. The building spun, the stalls flowed into one long line as Garrick’s mind tried to gain control of what he knew the future would be. When Damien did not show up, Richard would be furious. Richard would have his excuse for Garrick to kill him.

  “I need you here. I need you to protect Ryann.”

  “I have to go Garrick. I cannot leave Alena alone.”

  “Do you not see what is about to happen?” Garrick whispered, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

  “I see. I also see Alena is in danger, and I cannot let her face it alone. I will not let her live that life again.”

  Garrick stared at Marcus for a moment, before he nodded. Of course Marcus could not let Ghalib have Alena, anymore than he could have let Stroud have Ryann. They were men, and had to protect the women they loved. Marcus knew what he had to do, just as Garrick knew what he had to do.

  “Where will you go?” Garrick asked, his voice was now the epitome of calm as if he was not saying goodbye to the man who was with him through all the battles, and gave him strength and confidence.

  “I think Ghalib would take her back to his homeland.”

  “You think he would spare her that long?”

  Marcus drew in a deep, steadying breath, and Garrick realized the harshness of his words. “I hope that he would,” Marcus replied, before turning back to finish his task.

  “Take some of my men with you. I can spare a great number to aid your cause.”

  “We must go quickly, we have wasted days.” Left unspoken was the accusation that it was Garrick’s fault for wasting time with Stroud.

  Finished with the final preparations Marcus led his horse from the stall. Both men had swung into their saddles by the time Garrick entered the courtyard. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, he looked up at his knight and remembered the first time he laid eyes on the man as he sat on his horse. He was so young then, they had all been so young.

  “When you find her, you will find your home is still here. I will see to that.”

  Marcus looked down at Garrick and he saw his pity there, for what Garrick had yet to do. “It has been a long road together brother.” With that Marcus whirled his horse around and thundered through the gate, with Roland at his side.

  “It has indeed,” Garrick said as his right hand road away without him by his side. He watched until they were out of sight, then turned and entered the keep.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The hall was bustling with activity. Children played and laughed, servants went about with smiles on their faces as they served the morning meal. Garrick was greeted warmly by many of the servants and the guards who were left behind and welcomed him home. By the time he reached the dais and sat, his heart was bursting with pride for the home his lovely wife had turned his cold keep into. Within moments a glass of milk sat before him with another welcome home.

  Halvor sat at one table with his sisters, the smallest crawling all over him in her zeal to tell her story before all the others. Halvor’s eyes met that of his commanders across the space, and a smile broke across Halvor’s as he dipped his head in a silent salute to the man who had brought them safely home, after yet another battle. The last for you, Garrick’s mind stated firmly. Soon Halvor would leave to claim his own bride, and it seemed as if the final link to the past was falling away.

  Garrick was sorry t
heir days of riding as a strong legion together were over. As the door opened and Ryann stepped into the room, Garrick remembered this was what he fought for, a home, a wife, a family. It would stand to reason his men would seek the same and would not stay at his side always. As he watched Ryann move toward him slowly, as one child after another intercepted her, a pang of guilt ripped through him. Marcus had served him well, it was time to cut him loose and give him back Fenton when he returned, he was after all, the rightful owner. Besides, Garrick decided it was best to let loose some of his many properties to his loyal allies, before the King brought his wrath down upon him. There would be retaliations, there always would be, he had no doubt, but that thought fled his mind as Ryann reached the dais and turned her brilliant smile upon him.

  “What will Marcus do?” Ryann asked, as she slipped into the seat beside him.

  “He has left to get Alena,” Garrick said, turning to look at his beautiful bride. All the days of his future stacked upon him, looking at her, and he wanted to weep for what he could not have.

  “I was supposed to tell him something,” she muttered. “Did he take your men with him?” she asked, looking about the crowded hall as if she would be able to determine how many he might have taken.

  “No, he refused them.”

  “So he travels alone?” she asked, the concern evident in her voice.

  “Roland goes with him.”

  He watched her cast a glance toward Will and Jill. “You will provide them a home here,” Garrick said in a low voice, guessing her thoughts.

  “They still need their father,” she replied, and he heard the anger in her voice.

  “I’m afraid their father is gone, even if Roland returns.”

  Ryann sighed beside him. “You do not care that we have a number of children with no parents to earn their keep?” she asked, looking at him.

  “I have a feeling we will have a larger number by the time we are old and gray.”