Horse hooves.
Aslyn froze, turned her head to determine the direction and discovered that there was a rider baring down on her. Despite the dimness of approaching dusk, despite the distance, she knew the moment she spotted him that it was Kale … and he had spotted her.
Her heart lurched in her chest. For several moments, she couldn’t seem to force her panicked mind to react. Finally, however, the rhythmic pounding formed in her brain as the word ‘run, run, run.’ Looking wildly around, she realized the only possibility she had of escaping was to climb the bank. As steep and as slippery as it was, she felt certain the horse would not be able to climb it and, if Kale had to find another place to climb the bank she would have time to hide.
The moment the idea formed in her mind, she tossed her burdens aside and climbed for all she was worth. When she finally managed to reach the top, she paused long enough to catch her breath and to spare a glance to see if Kale had spotted her escape.
To her horror, she saw that Kale, instead of following the stream until he reached the point where she’d climbed up, had urged the horse off the stream the moment she left it … and the horse was climbing the bank like a mountain goat. Spurred by the certainty of instant capture, Aslyn took off through the trees at her best speed.
It took Kale all of five minutes to run her down. She felt the heat from the horse a split second before Kale leaned from its back and snatched her off her feet, plunking her across his lap.
She kicked her feet, trying to wiggle off, whereupon Kale dealt her half frozen rump a ringing spank.
Aghast, she went perfectly still for about two seconds before it fully sank into her mind that he’d had the unmitigated gall to spank her. She struggled to lift her head and gave him her best ‘I’ll kill you’ look.
Unfortunately, the evil look he was giving her frightened her considerably more than hers, apparently, did him.
“Going somewhere?” he asked in a cold, tight voice.
He grasped her then, lifting her until she was sitting before him on the saddle, instead of lying face down over it. She scowled at him. “I am.”
They glared at each other for a full minute in a silent battle of wills. “Indeed you are, but not where you think,” Kale said finally.
He turned the horse then without another word and kicked it into motion.
Aslyn gasped as the horse lurched forward, grasping frantically for something to hold on to. She needn’t have worried. Kale held her tightly against his chest with one arm.
“Put me down this instant!” she demanded when she’d recovered sufficiently from her fear of falling to manage it.
“No.”
Aslyn turned to look at him in disbelief. “Why?”
He took his gaze from the path long enough to focus a cold, narrow eyed glare upon her. “Because Algar wants you. You can not run fast enough, or far enough, to escape him.”
Rather than frightening her as she supposed had been his intention, his words wounded her to the quick. She looked away, determined not to allow him to see the hurt in her eyes.
It was not, after all, as if she could have failed to know that Algar wanted her, or that Algar would certainly try to track her down. Although Kale could not have known that Algar had admitted to her that he’d been searching for her ever since she’d fled her home, he must surely know she was not so stupid as to think Algar would suddenly decide to stop pursuing her, only because she had shown herself unwilling.
It hurt, though, to realize Kale’s only interest in, or concern for, her was in using her to trap Algar.
She didn’t trust herself to speak for some time afterward, fearful that she would find a warble in her voice, or worse, burst into tears. By the time Krackensled had come into sight, she had recovered sufficiently from her hurt to be angry once more but also to realize that, as compelling as her reasons for leaving were, she could not voice them, and even she was obliged to admit that any lie she might come up with could only sound weak and foolish.
He had no right to hold her against her will. The king had not sent him to harass innocent travelers, but to track down and slaughter the wolves wreaking so much havoc on the populace. However, she was in no position, unfortunately, to demand release, or, more accurately, to enforce her demands.
They left his horse at the livery near the center of town and walked the remainder of the distance to the cottage. Any hope Aslyn had that he might simply escort her there and leave were dashed immediately.
He opened the door, ushered her in and immediately closed and bolted the door behind them. In truth, Aslyn was barely even aware of his actions. She thought for several moments that he’d brought her to the wrong cottage.
The packed dirt floor had been covered, virtually every square inch of it, with carpets. Two high backed, overstuffed chairs had been set before the hearth. A small table between them held a silver candelabra with a half a dozen burning tapers. In the place where the rickety table had sat, stood a handsome, gleaming oak table and two matching oak chairs. A screen behind the table partially blocked her view of the bed, but she saw the narrow bed that had been destroyed in the scuffle had been replaced by a wider one with an elaborately carved foot board.
She turned to look at Kale questioningly and saw that he had discarded his tunic. He advanced upon her, a purposeful look in his eyes. Startled, Aslyn took a step back, lifting her hands to hold him off. He ignored the weak defense. Scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed, he dropped her in the middle of it. Aslyn bounded upright as he sat on the edge and proceeded to remove his boots.
“What are you doing?” she asked, more than a little stunned.
He stood up and began removing his breeches. “Something I should have done long ago.”
Aslyn’s eyes widened as he pushed the breeches from his hips, her gaze focusing of its own accord on the swollen male member jutting from the thatch of hair low on his belly. Heat suffused her as she stared at it. Her heart commenced a frantic tattoo against her chest wall, making her breath short and fast.
She moistened her dry lips. “But….”
Grasping the neck of her gown, he ripped the ancient, thread bare fabric from neck to waist as if it were no more than paper. Aslyn gasped in shock, staring down at her exposed shift, worn to the point that it was virtually transparent. As he reached for her last defense, she scurried away. The rending sound of tearing cloth told her, however, even if the sudden, chill kiss of air had not, that she had not successfully eluded him. Clutching the tatters of her clothing, Aslyn scrambled to the far back of the bed, glancing wildly around for an avenue of escape. The bed was wedged into a corner, however, leaving two sides blocked by walls, a third by Kale.
She leapt for the foot of the bed at the same moment that Kale leapt toward her. He caught her around the waist, dragging her back.
She placed her palms against his chest. “What are you doing? Why?”
He grasped her arms, forcing them to the bed on either side of her head. “Claiming what is mine … what has always been mine.”
A strange mixture of anger and desire rushed through her at his words, at the look in his eyes. “You’re no better than Kale,” she said coldly.
Something flickered in his eyes. For several moments, she thought he would release her and withdraw, instead, after that brief hesitation, he lowered himself until his bare chest was resting against her breasts, until his mouth hovered mere inches from her own.
Aslyn stared up at him, her gaze focusing upon his hard mouth, and something warm and liquid flowed through her, washing the anger away, leaving only the desire. She had wondered from the first moment she’d seen him what it would feel like to be desired by him, kissed, caressed. She lifted her lips to him in mute appeal.
He swallowed, his gaze flickering to hers momentarily before he closed the gap between them and pressed his mouth to hers. Fire flooded her at the first touch of his lips. She opened her mouth to him, conquering even as she surrendered.
She ran her hands along his back, exploring every inch of him that she could reach, even as he explored her body with his hands.
His body was as she had imagined, taut muscles everywhere she touched, his skin smooth and as soft was her own along his back, faintly abrasive on his chest and arms where hair grew. She moved restlessly beneath him, enjoying the texture of his skin as it brushed hers, feeling her nipples harden into stiff, throbbing peaks.
He broke the kiss, moving down to cover one hard peak with his mouth. Aslyn gasped, groaned, cupped his head to her. Threading her fingers through his hair, she tugged, offering her other breast to him when he finally, reluctantly, released the nipple he had teased until she was writhing in mindless ecstasy, groaning as if she was dying.
As heavenly as the suction of his mouth on her breast was, it was not nearly enough. She wanted … needed more.
She began to struggle against him and when he lifted slightly away, she kissed him as he had kissed her, exploring his body with her mouth. He groaned, allowing her exploration, holding himself in check with an effort that made him tremble beneath her touch.
The tremors running through him were echoed by her own body, a sense of urgency building within both of them until they reached a point where neither could wait longer to join their bodies. Aslyn spread her legs for him, reaching for his throbbing male member to guide it inside her even as he moved to wedge his hips between her trembling thighs. Looping an arm beneath one thigh, he lifted it as he pushed fully inside of her in one swift thrust. Expecting the pain of having her maiden head breached, Aslyn gasped, tensed against a pain that was insignificant beside the pleasure of feeling his flesh become one with hers. She nipped his shoulder, then sucked it to soothe, curling her other leg around him and arching her back to urge him on.
He needed no more. He was shaking with the effort to hold himself in check and at that began to thrust inside her in long, powerful strokes that fed the hunger in her belly for the caress of his man’s flesh. She countered each stroke, tilting her hips to urge him deeper, meeting each thrust with a grind of her hips that drove them both to the edge within moments.
He went still suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut, every muscle straining against giving into his body’s demand for release. She cried out in frustration, thrusting her hips against him until he uttered a long, low growl and began to move again, hard and fast. He bit down on her shoulder as his climax seized him, his body jerking against hers with his release. The nip of his teeth sent her over the edge of pleasure. It culminated in an explosion of ecstasy that ripped through her entire body, leaving lassitude in its wake.
She went limp beneath him, barely conscious.
Chapter Ten
Minutes pass while they fought for breath. Finally, he gathered himself and rolled off of her and onto his back beside her. Aslyn found herself drifting in a hazy state of blissful repletion. After a while, she realized, dimly, that she had not put up much of a fight to fend him off. She had offered little in the way of maidenly objection. She had certainly not behaved as a maiden when he had touched her.
She found she didn’t care.
She should have. What he thought of her was important to her. She had never given herself to any man before and she feared her behavior might make him think otherwise, but in the end, she realized that nothing beyond the moment really mattered. There was no future--not for her--not for them.
It still bothered her. They might have little time together, but she wanted it to be good between them. She wanted warm memories to take with her.
She should be furious with him for his presumption that she would simply yield herself to him only because he had claimed her. If she could rouse a healthy dose of outrage, she would be considerably more convincing as a maiden who’d been robbed of her virtue.
She could not seem to rouse any sense of outrage, however. She could not, in fact, dismiss the urge growing inside of her to join with him again to see if it was as wonderful as the first time.
She rolled onto her side, studied him for a long moment, and then reached over and plucked gently on one of his chest hairs. One corner of his lips twitched, threatening a smile. She tugged a little harder.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed dutifully, and then spoiled it by chuckling. “What was that for?”
Aslyn thought about it a moment, but she was in no mood to start a fight by pretending outrage she didn’t feel. “Just checking,” she murmured and lay back down again.
“For what?”
“Life.”
Laughter rumbled from his chest. He lifted his head, flicked his flaccid member and collapsed again. “For the moment, there is none.”
A gurgle of laughter escaped Aslyn before she could stop it. “So much for ravishing me.”
Kale rolled onto his side, propping his head on his bent arm and staring down at her, his expression a cross between amusement and worry. “I did not pleasure you?”
Aslyn tried to look despondent but failed. “You know very well that you did.”
He grimaced. “Actually, I was not altogether certain. I lost control.” He flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I do seem to recall hearing something between a yodel and a cat screech.”
Aslyn punched him playfully and rolled over on top of him, smiling down at him. “You can do it again, if you like.”
His lips twitched. “With your permission?”
The sense of playfulness vanished as she studied his face and realized that the passion she felt for him was only a part of what she felt. Her heart--her soul--was as deeply, irrevocably his as her body--as she had known it would be. She wasn’t certain which had come first, or if it even mattered. The two could not be separated.
Small wonder it had cut her so deeply to think he cared only that he could use her to trap Algar.
She lowered her gaze, forcing a smile. “With all my heart,” she said playfully, swallowing with some difficulty against the lump of misery that had risen from no where to lodge itself in her throat.
He caught her chin, forcing her to look up at him and she felt her smile fall a little flat. “Forever?”
She looked away, forced a chuckle. “For tonight at least,” she said flippantly, then, when he frowned, she reached down and cupped his male member. “If I can rouse him from slumber.”
It hardened at her touch, grew to fill her hand to overflowing.
He rolled onto his side so that she landed on the bed beside him. Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his head and kissed her with such tenderness she thought she would cry. She found she could not bear his tenderness. It made her feel as if her heart would break.
She pulled away from him, nipped his shoulder and then his earlobe, running her hands over his chest, his arms and then reaching down to cup his erection. His response was almost instantaneous, heated, aggressive. He moved his mouth and hands over her, possessively, as if to claim every inch of her body as his own.
She pushed him onto his back and crawled atop him, spreading her thighs and rubbing her woman’s flesh against him. He lifted her hips and thrust upward, impaling her to the hilt. She cried out, ground her hips against him and finally leaned forward, pulling away slightly then pushing back again.
Before she had caught her rhythm, he surged upward, tipping her onto her back and thrusting into her again and again until she felt herself climbing toward the peak of pleasure once more, felt him striving to reach his own culmination.
Abruptly, he pulled away, rolled her onto her stomach and lifted her hips for his thrust. She groaned when he embedded his hard flesh deeply inside her, pushing back against him to feel him more deeply still.
&nb
sp; Gripping her hips, he thrust again and again, setting a rhythm that was fast, hard, demanding. She braced herself on her arms, arching her back, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she felt her body tensing toward the ultimate release. She screamed when it caught her, carrying her over the edge.
He cried out as well, holding her tightly against him as his seed flooded her.
He groaned when he pulled away from her at last and lowered himself shakily to the bed, breathing harshly as he strove to catch his breath.
Aslyn found she had little desire to move and no strength for it. She was more than half asleep when he gathered her to him, pulling one of her legs over his hips and sliding one of his between her thighs. She muttered a half hearted complaint as he slid one arm beneath her head and wrapped his arms around her, but his arms tightened when she tried to pull away and she subsided, too tired to argue.
He was studying her when she woke near dawn. She blinked the blurriness from her vision, disconcerted. “Did I oversleep?” she asked a little uncertainly.
He shook his head slightly, lifting a hand and brushing a tendril of hair from her cheek, then lifted a stray lock, studying it. “It glows like fire.”
It was the bane of her existence, the main reason she rarely went outside without a hood to cover the brilliant beacon her auburn hair became the moment light touched it. “It’s most unkind to remark upon it.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you are.”
Aslyn covered her face with her hand. “Hardly. I look like a monster with my face all swollen.”
He pulled her hand away. “The swelling and bruising are almost gone.”
Aslyn frowned, certain he was only saying that to try to make her feel better. To her surprise, however, she discovered her face felt almost normal … which was strange. Surely, as badly battered as her face had been, it would have taken far longer to heal? Or, had she simply lost all track of time?
She knew better, however, and finally decided it must have been the cold that had helped the swelling go down so quickly.
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