Then his large hands came back to hold hers very still, and all she saw in his eyes was honest kindness.
Catherine fell back and let her arms fall to her sides as Jacq pulled the laces wide, then forced herself not to giggle at his sudden intake of breath as he stared wide-eyed at her breasts.
She knew she was luckier than many young women and that for as full as her breasts were, they remained proud and high, each crowned with a delicately pink nipple.
Jacq touched her gently, and this time it was he who trembled as if in fear, or as if he was fevered.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, then his head was down between her breasts and he kissed her there, then continued kissing as he worked his way upward to her neck and, at last, found his way again to her welcoming lips.
Catherine felt him against her belly as they kissed. He was hard as iron through the loose trousers he wore, and the thought of what he could do with that length brought a flood of warmth to her cheeks that washed like a summer storm through her body to anchor itself between her legs.
She ached there and knew that she was wet and swollen as his lips teased across her own.
Emboldened by the need blooming between her thighs, Catherine reached between their bodies and then she held him in her hand.
Jacq froze.
He simply trembled without moving as Catherine explored him through the fabric of his trousers.
She was no fool and knew what men and women did behind closed doors at night. But she was still surprised by just how hard and rigid his member was.
Then it was her turn to fumble as she brought her other hand to bear while she undid the ties of his trousers as quickly as she could.
Catherine rocked from one side to the other, then had him cradled between her legs. She drew her knees up and fought the urge to rub against him as she did, hooked her bare feet into the top of his trousers, then pushed them down and off him.
At last, Jacq grinned. He leaned back and held himself on his knees between Catherine's legs, then stripped off his tunic to reveal a torso that rippled with a young man's muscles.
Catherine could not help herself from stealing a look at the iron hardness she had felt through his pants.
Jacq's member was long and stiff, and when she reached for him, she felt it jerk in her hands.
Then, urgent and desperate, Catherine rose up and pushed her unlaced bodice down before she wiggled it over her hips as she drew her legs free of the last of her clothing.
Jacq did not wait to find his way between her legs again and Catherine threw herself to utter abandon as the fire between her thighs roared to receive the young man.
She felt him press against her lips and her breath caught. Catherine forced herself to relax, then felt Jacq slip inside her with a delicious sensation tempered by a tearing pain.
She cried out and Jacq froze again, then Catherine smiled at the concern in his eyes as she whispered, “Go slowly, my sweet Jacq.”
He nodded, then moved gently with an exquisite slowness that left her breathless.
Their mouths found one another again. Their hands were clasped as they rocked against one another until Jacq began to tremble once again.
Suddenly he was outside of Catherine and she understood why. She reached for him and felt her own juices that had rendered his cock slick upon her palm.
Jacq shuddered and arched his neck back, then Catherine felt the heat of him as he released to spill himself in powerful thrusts while still held in her grasp.
He sagged and took a deep breath, then lowered himself down upon her once more.
Then it was his hand that found its way between Catherine's legs to touch the tender kernel at her apex.
Her hips bucked as he did it. Her breath caught, then a low moan escaped her.
Taking confidence in her reaction, Jacq continued to stroke her there, ever so gently, until Catherine was rising up to meet him with a rhythm that matched his own.
Catherine felt the approach of something that was at once agonizing and delicious. She felt herself become like a wild animal under his hand and all shame washed away as she rose up and up and up, then cried out and clamped her legs together hard with his hand trapped between them.
Every muscle in her body answered the call of his fingers as she wrapped herself around him. Every part of her trembled and clenched over and over and with a fleeting, wild thought, she had time to think that it was like being born into a bonfire only to die an instant death before being born to die again in the next moment.
And, it was lovely.
Together, they fell down in one another's arms and held each other for a long moment. The sun shone down upon them and their lovemaking as if giving its blessing to the young couple lying among the ferns in the meadow.
And now they ran under dark skies.
His hand was just as warm as it had been that first time in the meadow, and Catherine smiled as she thought of the strawberries that day and of the irony that they were not the best fruit she had tasted with the boy who had become her man.
The wind rustled the leaves overhead, and she risked a few whispered words in the darkness as they ran.
“Jacq. Is it much further? I can't tell where we are or how far we've come.”
The young man drew up short and closed the distance between them, the firm grip of his hand still upon her own.
“We're almost there, my darling. Everything is prepared as I promised you. We've provisions enough to last us several weeks on the road at least.”
Despite her excitement for the adventure they were about to undertake, Catherine shivered.
“My family will think I was spirited away,” she said.
Jacq chuckled.
“Look, they're not like the old folk who blame everything on old tales of monsters who steal away children in the night … “
“But what about the Boar?” she said, interrupting him.
“Never mind about the Boar. There is no such creature carrying off young lovers from Urrune. The whole idea of it is ridiculous.”
She did not have to remind him that it had been less than a month since another young couple had disappeared from the village.
François and Heloise. The two had been inseparable since the debut of summer and so much in love that it brought a smile to everyone's faces when they passed them by in the street.
The woodcutter's son had beamed with pride for the young woman who held his arm, and Heloise, the eldest of the town baker's brood, had simply glowed with adoration for François.
The sight of them had been in stark contrast to the tales that were being told of young people in the neighboring towns disappearing and that it would only be a matter of time before Urrune would be stricken as well.
“Look, Catherine. I knew François well enough and I know just as well that he would have never let some pig running around at night come between him and Heloise.
“They simply did what we're doing right now, that's all. Our parents would never let us be together, let alone marry one day. Instead, we'll find somewhere where we can start our lives together without our families to decide what they think is best.”
She could not deny what he said. Despite the apparent turn for the worse in her own family's fortune, they had not yet lost all of their pride and still considered themselves bourgeois when compared to much of the rest of the village.
Jacq's own family had been farmers for generations and made no secret of their disdain for folk they considered as nouveau riche, such as the innkeepers who had sprouted up like so many mushrooms back when porters flowed through Urrune to the strange tower not far away.
Old money, new money. All of it was meaningless to two young people who only knew that they belonged together and would allow nothing to come between them.
Catherine sighed. They had been over it at least one hundred times before.
“I just don't want them to worry. Or think something stupid like the Boar took me away.”
&nbs
p; Jacq released her hand to cup one side of her face as she looked into his deep brown eyes.
“They won't. I'll be gone, too. The rest will be obvious once they realize that we both left at the same time.”
She nodded, then Jacq took her hand in his own once more to lead the way to their future together.
The trees grew thicker around them and the brief glimpses of night sky overhead grew more infrequent the further along they went.
Catherine had time to think that there should have been more stars that night. But instead of cloudless skies that would guide them as they began their journey, an ominous darkness grew rapidly overhead.
Then she heard something moving in the woods just behind them.
Something big.
She froze, and Jacq nearly pulled her arm out of its socket as he was forced to a halt.
“Catherine,” he hissed, “What's the matter?”
She hesitated.
“I'm not sure,” she looked back over her shoulder and listened, then said, “I thought I heard someone following us.”
“No, no. You're imagining things, darling. No one knows we left.”
Of course, he was right. They had been as careful as they could possibly be, taking every precaution so as to avoid arousing suspicion.
The only hint Catherine had allowed herself that evening was to kiss each of her surprised parents upon the cheek and tell them that she loved them both before going to bed.
“I don't know, but I'm sure I heard something,” she said.
“Okay, but if anything, it was probably just a deer that startled as we went by.”
He shrugged.
“Come on. We've leagues to go after we collect our food and clothes.”
She nodded, and they set off once again.
There was nothing more as they moved quickly to their destination. Soon enough, even Catherine began to recognize the familiar turnings of the dim path they walked and she was reassured that the meadow was very close.
Then there was the sound of something breaking behind them. There was a terrible creaking sound that grew and grew until it came to a sudden crashing end.
It was as if something had pushed a tree over on the path just behind them followed by an abrupt silence that not even the wind dared break to rustle the leaves overhead.
Catherine flashed a look of alarm toward her lover, and Jacq nodded then pressed a finger to his lips, indicating that she should remain quiet.
Neither of them moved, as frozen into place as the imagined deer might have been, then they both heard something else.
It was the sound of snuffling, but it was not the sort of slight and whispery noise of the small beasts of the forest.
No, this was the sound of something far larger than anything either of the young people could even begin to imagine as something that actually existed anywhere in the world.
The snuffling continued, then stopped.
Catherine could see the cords standing out on Jacq's neck as he listened like she did, both of them straining to hear something that would explain it was nothing either of them need fear.
Instead, there was a deep, hollow grunt, then the pounding beat of drums rolled beneath their feet as the ground shook.
Whatever it was had broken into a gallop.
And it was coming straight for them.
Jacq's eyes went wide, then he shouted, “Run, Catherine!”
They bolted like a pair of wild animals, yet Jacq never let Catherine's hand go as they burst down the last bit of trail leading to the meadow and the provisions that Jacq had hidden there.
They ran for all their worth as Catherine imagined that some towering, heavy beast drew closer with each breath she took. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before she would feel its hot respiration and smell the stink of its steaming, foul breath.
They ran for the meadow, and it was nothing more than instinct. It had become a haven for them, a shelter where they went to feel safe from the disapproving looks that came their way within the confines of the village.
A scream threatened to burst from Catherine with each gasping breath she took, for she knew that the meadow could not shield them from the beast at their heels. It was panic that drove them and not some dim memory that what was supposed to become the beginning of their lives together lay ahead, near the secret patch of strawberries, all that they could manage in four pitiful sacks of burlap.
It seemed fitting, then, that it would be there that they would end their brief lives and they would do so while holding one another.
A wayward blackberry cane ripped across Catherine's cheek as they gained the futile shelter of the meadow.
She still felt it stinging with warmth as a welt rose upon her face, then the two of them turned to face the beast bearing down upon them.
Jacq's arms were around her, and the scream that Catherine had held in silence at last broke free.
She screamed and the ground shook as a darkness blacker than the night loomed in the clearing.
The beast towered over them. Its breath was hot and curling puffs of vapor streamed from its nostrils.
All of it was as dark as evil can be, except for the pair of yellow tusks jutting from the sides of its massive jaw.
Enormous cloven hooves pawed the ground before them, then the beast swung its head to the side and Catherine saw a red, beady eye staring down at them with undisguised hunger.
She screamed again and the thing grunted deep within its throat as it opened its maw wide.
With a mighty heave, Jacq threw Catherine behind him and turned to face the beast while saying, “Catherine, go. I'll do what I can to slow it down.”
Catherine wept as she watched her brave Jacq turn to face his own death, his hands clenched into bare fists as his only weapons.
“No! I won't leave you!” she wailed.
Before Jacq could answer her, she saw a streamer of darkness unfurl from the trees to one side of them.
It was small by comparison, but it moved rapidly, like smoke blown before a gust of wind.
In an instant, the fluttering slip of darkness crossed the meadow, then lifted into the air to come down upon the monster's outstretched neck.
There was a cracking sound, like that of a bullwhip, then Catherine saw the beast's muzzle rear up and as it did, she saw a shining black cord wrap itself like a collar around the thing's neck.
The strange, smoky form upon the beast's back grew thicker, condensing in a rush to reveal a young woman.
She was a thing of dark beauty. A terrible beauty made all the worse by the horror she rode, a pair of black reins caught in her hands as she pulled back with what must have been all her strength.
Then they both heard her voice.
“He is drawn to you and the passion that binds you.”
Her face twisted upon her own words. It was as if she found what she said a bitter thing indeed.
“Run as fast as you can for as long as you can. For once I have come in time, but I cannot hold him for long.”
The beast reared up, its hooves pawing at the air, but the black-haired woman did not fall, nor did she release her hold.
“Now,” she gasped, then pulled back hard upon the reins in her fists, “Run!”
The sound of the strange woman's voice echoed in her ears as Catherine followed in Jacq's wake.
Her hand was no longer in his, but she was as tied to him as firmly as any physical bond.
There was no chance she would lose him.
And as they ran with no intention stopping until they both fell into a breathless heap, Catherine remembered the sad look in the woman's strange eyes.
In that bright flash of startling blue, she had seen a woman who felt desperately alone and who believed that her fate would never change.
Catherine had seen the truth of it as clearly as she had ever seen anything in her life.
She had seen someone without hope.
Chapter Two
It felt like there was so
meone else there.
It was as if there were eyes in the trees that tracked what passed upon the dirt road. Only it was not that familiar sentiment of a person looking over one's shoulder, barely felt at first then slipping beyond the periphery of notice.
Instead, this felt far removed from the ordinary and it made the flesh of the wagon driver's arms lift in a chill despite the warm summer sun.
It had started just after the road had passed beyond the limits of the town known as Urrune and while at first it was just barely perceptible, the feeling grew with each passing league until it felt like someone was surely following the wagon and its driver.
Then, with no other sign, the presence faded away into nothing more than self-doubt and daydream under a bright noon sky.
The mule's harness jingled and the wagon it drew clanked as the dirt road slipped under iron-wrapped, wooden spoked wheels.
Another sound mingling with those first sounds was the murmuring of the wagon's driver, his lips forming words that one would barely hear even without the mule and the heavily laden wagon it pulled.
He was a young man. His face was round and kindly and the full measure of the years of his life was not readily apparent upon his unlined face, giving him more the air of a boy than that of a man.
There was also the fact that the young man had the habit of passing as much time as he could under a likely tree, and by consequence out of sunlight, while peering avidly at old words written in old books whenever he could manage it.
Otherwise, when it could not be avoided, he spent the rest of his time in the relative darkness of his father's atelier, most often working the bellows while his father hammered away at glowing lumps of metal that would eventually be transformed into something useful and worthwhile.
Tools. His father was the local smith and his life was spent crafting some of the finest tools that could be found in the province. His work was a good one. His time spent at it useful.
Something that most anyone Bellamere knew would have difficulty in saying the same of the father's son. Despite all his years of forging useful things that would, in turn, create yet other useful things, the smith remained grimly bemused at his inability to forge his own son into something useful.
The Marechal Chronicles: Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist Page 2
