Wings of the Storm

by Susan Sizemore

  Her anger was turning quickly to panic in the dark of the staircase. She hated this world! She didn't want to be touched! She struck out, fists and feet flying. Daffyd swore and swung her off her feet. He slung her easily over his shoulder and held her there as he marched into the storeroom.

  "Out!" he shouted, and the serving woman fled. He slammed the door behind her, then flung Jane down.

  By the time her knees hit the floor, Jane was starting to come back to her senses, but she remained where she fell for a few moments, doubled up and shaking, with her hands clutching her stomach. Reaction from fear and anger and adrenaline-driven hysteria was hitting her. Daffyd knelt beside her.

  She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were snapping with anger, but he gave her the familiar smirk when he said, "I've never known anyone to panic like that to a proposal of marriage. Did Geoffrey have this much trouble with you?"

  She blinked stupidly. Who was Geoffrey? "What?"

  She sat back on her heels and covered her face with her hands. Her head was spinning, and it hurt, but the blood-red scene in the hall was coming back to her now. She peered hesitantly at him over her fingers. "What have I done?"

  "Very nearly gotten yourself thrown across a table by the king of England with your dress flung up around your head," he stated bluntly. "With an audience to cheer him on." He rose to his feet and paced the length of the room. She followed him with her eyes.

  He spun around at the door. "Lord, girl, don't you know getting his attention was the worst thing you could have done?"

  Getting John's attention was the last thing she had wanted, too. She'd been hiding for days, desperate to keep away from the king. Why had she tried to attack him? Why hadn't she remained calm in the midst of the ugly scene in the hall? Why the breaking point at this of all times?

  "Why?" she said aloud, knowing the answer was because she couldn't stand idly by and watch anyone,

  king or slave, abuse a child or be cruel to a mindless beast.

  "Why?" Daffyd raged at her, greenish eyes sparkling furiously in the candlelight. "Because he's a randy, rutting toad and you're just to his taste! Especially now the girl's proved to be a disappointment. Stay out of his way," he ordered. "Betrothed to one of his favorite captains or not, he still might try to bed you."

  Jane got shakily to her feet. Daffyd's words were sinking into her brain. Detailed memory was returning. She rubbed her temples, pushing her fingers beneath the barbette covering them. "Yes. Thank you. It was clever of you to claim betrothal. Thank you for the lie," she said again.

  He was looking at her with a sardonic tilt to his head, the angry glint still in his eyes. "It was all I could think of. And not a wise thing to say in front of the king and all those witnesses."

  She stared at him while every plan she'd made for her life fell into broken shards around her. Stephan would be delighted. Jonathan would be delighted. There was no question of Daffyd's suit being refused by liege or Church. She was trapped. Daffyd held complete power over her. Why did this situation seem so familiar?

  All she said, numbly, was, "No. It wasn't a wise thing to say." She lifted her head proudly and added, "I don't wish to marry you, you know."

  He stepped close to her. "Jehane." He rested his hands on her shoulders.

  "Don't touch me," she said tightly. He didn't let go. He came closer, until their bodies touched. Although he wasn't pressing close, she could still feel the power of his muscular body. "Please," she said. It wasn't a plea for her release. He nodded his understanding.

  He put one arm around her and spread his fingers at the base of her spine. He lifted her chin with two lingers. It didn't feel at all the same as when John did it. He looked deeply into her eyes. He said, "Perhaps you need to be touched."

  "Perhaps I do."

  He put his hand on the back of her head, drawing her upturned face toward him. She was wide-eyed, full of trembling need. She couldn't take her eyes off his. His eyes spoke of trust and passion. Her lips opened, welcoming his kiss. It filled her with fire. The fire was cleansing, kindling passion, blotting out pain and loss and terror of the hours past and the days to come. Daffyd's hands moved over her, gentle and urgent at once. Her body responded to his touch as a lute did to a master player. She let his hands have their way, searching out her secrets through the layers of silk and linen, until his frustrated growl brought some sense back into her reeling brain.

  "Touch me, woman!" he demanded.

  She threw her head back on the arm holding her in a tight embrace, laughing joyously. Not without a can opener! she thought, but said, "You're dressed for war, my lord. Nothing's meant to get through all that armor."

  He gave a snort of answering laughter. "True, love. But I thought you clever enough to contrive anything." He stepped away and began stripping off surcoat, mail shirt, and the quilted shirt worn beneath the heavy mail. By the time he was down to the black knit braccae covering his legs and loins, Jane was completely shed of her light summer wear. Her body was too warm and needing

  to shiver in the cool night air.

  They looked at each other in the candle glow. His eyes danced over her, taking in every detail the same way she'd done in the same spot not so long ago. She reacted to the visual assault with the same bold abandon he'd shown then. She straightened, posed, turned slowly, throwing a seductive look over her shoulder.

  He caught her to him as she finished the turn. His mouth took hers again. Their tongues entwined and slipped with hungry playfulness to trace the insides of lips and teeth.

  She moved her hands across his torso, exploring his smooth-skinned, gold-pelted form as he'd urged. He purred like a big cat with each new stroke of her fingertips. She moved her mouth from his, leaving soft kisses down his strong throat, licking teasingly at each pink nipple half-hidden in a nest of gold chest hair. She'd never known this kind of powerful desire before. Need drove her, need to give and take pleasure, if only for this one night.

  "This one knight," she said, laughing softly with her mouth against his throat.

  "Only one Jehane," he answered. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. No one had ever done that before. She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, mouths pressed tightly together. This kiss sent her soaring. It was headier than wine. She gloried in it, crying out against his mouth when his hand covered her hard-peaked breast.

  His lips moved to replace his hand, which moved down her body to rest at the juncture of her upraised legs. Her thighs opened willingly to the slightest of pressure. His finger began to tease and stroke her, while his tongue and lips played over her breasts. When he gently nipped the side of her breast she cried out, but not from pain. Her hand dipped down to the rigid maleness pressing up between them, closed around it, teasing and stroking to match the rhythm of his hand on her. His hips jerked forward in eager response. He caught a nipple to his mouth

  and suckled greedily.

  The tight, hot pleasure grew unbearable. She was slippery with desire, aching to have him inside her. "Now, Daffyd," she urged.

  His breath was coming in hard, ragged gasps, his fair skin suffused with heated blood. His eyes burned as they looked up into hers. She arched beneath his touch, begging for more.

  "Daffyd!" she pleaded.

  He took her mouth once more, a gentle touch, then covered her body with his. She welcomed him with a sharp cry, trembling and shaken with the power of her orgasm as he sheathed himself deep inside her.

  White hot pleasure raced upward from the center where they joined. It was a lightning bolt, devastating her, leaving her hot and panting in its wake, yet still hungry for more as his smooth, hard shaft pierced her with deep, demanding strokes. Her hips pushed up to meet him, needing to take in all of him, to soar along with him as the pleasure climbed to greater heights. Climax took them together when it came, their bodies deeply entwined, breathing their cries of completion

  into each other's mouths.

  They lay, me
lded together, for a few heartbeats while their racing hearts slowed and breathing calmed. Jane exhaled a soft moan. Daffyd collapsed on top of her

  with an exhausted "Umpfh!" Then he rolled to the side of the bed and drew her into his arms. He held her close, found her breast to use as a pillow.

  She stroked the long hair away from his shoulder, running the blond silk through her fingers, and gazed up at the darkness outside the narrow window. She wondered at the time. She wondered what tomorrow would bring. She wondered why she was so happy when she'd just thrown all her carefully constructed plans to the winds of desire. She wondered if this feeling of newness and completion was what it felt like to be in love.

  She no longer had to wonder if her erotic dreams of Daffyd ap Bleddyn would match the reality. She knew. She guessed her vivid imagination wasn't as vivid as she thought. Nothing in her dreams could compare to what had just passed between them. She told herself it didn't matter if it never happened again. He held her close. She wasn't alone. Tonight she could sleep without dreaming.

  "I've wanted you," she whispered very softly into his riotously tangled hair, "since I first saw you." It didn't matter if he was awake to hear her words or not. It was probably better if he wasn't. To speak the truth as Jane Florian, even if she must be Jehane FitzRose in the morning, was enough. Being Jehane made it possible for Jane to meet and love this man. Jane could never have done it on her own.

  After a short silence he sighed. He lifted his head from her breast to peer at her in the very dim light. "I've wanted you," he told her, "since the night the lad died. Or perhaps it was after that, when I saw how good you were for the girl. It wasn't your beauty I wanted, Jehane." He paused long enough to kiss her gently. "Though you are beautiful. It was the kindness that drew me back."

  "Kindness?" Why wasn't she surprised to hear the word from the Welsh mercenary? But then, hadn't he been kind to her as well? He'd saved her life, made sure she was all right afterward, defending her from the king.

  "Kindness. And knowing you wanted me." She didn't need to be able to see clearly to know he was looking at her with his usual smirk.

  She tugged on his hair. "Insufferable."

  "I can't marry you," he said. The words were spoken softly, but with bitter finality. "If I could take you from this . . . but I can't."

  His words hit her like a blow, hurting her because she recognized the enormity of her mistake. For all her protests, for all the good reasons she had for living the rest of her life alone, she knew being alone was the last thing she wanted.

  She'd fallen in love, and she didn't know how she could live without Daffyd ap Bleddyn after tonight. Just one night wasn't enough for her. She could never have enough of this man. How could she convince him they belonged together?

  "I've been a soldier's wife," she told him, remembering Jehane's supposed history.

  "I can't marry you," he said again. "Even if I wanted to. You couldn't live in my world, Jehane."

  He didn't want to. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He didn't want to.

  Why should he?

  It hurt. Hurt enough to bring her back to her senses. She couldn't, either. Not really. Her brief vision of building a life together was just another foolish

  dream. Just another soap-bubble illusion burst by the cold reality of this awful place. She wanted to go home. She was as helpless as ever.

  She still answered him angrily.

  "Even if you wanted to? You claimed me as your betrothed," she reminded him.

  "To save your honor."

  "To save me for yourself?" she spat back. Tears scalded her cheeks.

  "No! I..." He rolled out of the bed. "All right," he said coldly, looming above her. "Yes. It was just an excuse to bed you myself. It didn't mean anything."

  "That's not true!" She leapt out of bed to confront him. "Don't lie to me. It meant something. I know it did!"

  What was the matter with her? Why shouldn't she believe all he'd wanted from her was the sex? It would be easier to believe he was cold and uncaring. But she heard the pain in his voice. She remembered how protective he'd been. It was too late for her to hate him now.

  His hands found her shoulders. "No," he agreed. "It's not true. It's more than lust. But. . . Why won't you let me leave you with only your pride hurt?"

  "Because that would be too easy for both of us," she heard herself answer. "It's more than my pride that's hurting, Daffyd. If you must break my heart, give me a reason." Please, she begged silently, don't let it be because he doesn't love me.

  "You don't know me," he told her. "I'm not the man you think I am."

  She almost laughed. "You don't know anything about me, either. We could leam."

  "Everything I would tell you would be a lie."

  Without realizing it, he'd echoed her own thought. She didn't tell him so. "You're a landless knight who serves a hated king. I don't mind."

  "You should. You deserve better. I will not marry you, Jehane." He took her in his arms. "But I want you more than any woman I've ever known. And 1 want

  you now."

  In his embrace she didn't feel like talking anymore. She felt the peaks of her breasts hardening against the softly pelted muscles of his chest, felt the warm longing for his hardness begin inside her.

  "You can't marry me and I can't marry you," she said, beginning to grow breathless with renewed hunger. "We can't be together after tonight."

  She knew it was the truth, though the heady desire told her it was a lie.

  She let him urge her back to the bed. She took his kisses and caresses, returning them with equal passion. She moved beneath him. They climaxed together, calling each other's names as they soared into a burst of light.

  Jane came slowly back to herself to find Daffyd collapsed limply across her satisfied body once more.

  He gave a gusty sigh, muttered, "You bit me," and was instantly asleep.

  He was heavy, but she didn't try to move him off her. She was close to sleep herself. She held him tight, and thought. Forget this "we can't be together" nonsense. I'm not giving you up. Not after what we just shared.

  I will have you, Daffyd ap Bleddyn. We can't. We shouldn't. This feeling is impossible. I don't care what you say, she vowed. I will make you want me too much to ever let me go.

  24

  Daffyd left her with a kiss before dawn. She clung to him for a moment, until she woke fully and remembered. Then she let him go. As she heard him dressing in the storeroom she reminded herself that she had to let him go. The night was gone. Just one night. She curled on her side and cried a little after the door closed behind him. She didn't feel like making puns. Then she remembered her vow before falling asleep: to make him love her. Not for just a night, but forever, somehow.

  After a while she wiped her tears, got up, and bathed herself in a basin of cold water left from the day before. She dressed slowly, carefully, savoring the sensual memories of love play. Play? she questioned herself with an ironic little smile. It seemed pretty serious to her. She sighed.

  She rubbed a sore muscle in her upper thigh. "Out of practice." Her step was light when she walked into the corridor. She told herself her insane decision was the right one. She felt confident and relaxed. It helped her dodge the boy who came careening recklessly up the stairs just as she reached them. She turned to watch Michael skid to a halt, then pelt back to stand in front of her.

  "Lady Jehane! I... I was sent..." Pant, pant. "For you."

  His face was bruised and his eyes red-rimmed from crying, but he seemed healthy enough. She grabbed him to her in a fierce hug, and the memories of the events leading up to her night with Daffyd came rushing back to horrify her. The boy. Melisande. The king. Oh, God! The man she'd worked so hard to avoid had seen her and touched her and spoken to her. He knew of her existence. He—

  No. She mustn't panic. She got tight control on her fear. Nothing would come of it, she told herself. Nothing happened to change anything last night. Except her. And Michael. And perhaps Daffyd.<
br />
  Michael wriggled out of her grasp. With his breathing back to normal, he said, "Lady Sibelle wants you in the chapel. She sent me to fetch you." He danced nervously from foot to foot. "Please hurry. It's important." He took off like a shot back down the worn treads of the stairs. Jane watched him go, terrified the clumsy boy was in for another fall. Instead he moved as if his feet had wings. She shook her head, hoped no one of interest was in the hall at this hour, and followed quickly after.

  Sunlight pouring in the cross-shaped chapel window gave the old stone walls a mellow glow. She found Sibelle and Michael kneeling in a half circle near the altar. They were looking down on something, not praying. Curious, she came toward them. Stretched out on the floor was the bloodstained body of Melisande.

  Michael shot to his feet and grabbed Jane's hand. "She'll be all right." It was more of a plea than a statement as he looked back at the hound's still form.

  Sibelle looked up at Jane and nodded. "I think the wound will heal—"

  Jane stared at Melisande. The dog raised her head slightly, looking at her with soft brown eyes. Her tongue lolled out ridiculously, but she let out a faint whimper of pain.

  Jane sank gratefully to her knees by the dog's head, rubbing the gold-furred floppy ears. "You're alive, you silly bitch. You're alive." She kissed the warm black nose. She looked at Sibelle. "I saw the knife go in. I saw her fall. It seemed—"

  "Michael and Bertram dragged her in here," Sibelle told her. "Bertram went looking for Switha but couldn't find her. So before first light, Michael came to me." She gave the boy a fond look. "I'm doing what I can. She's a healthy animal."

  "What can I do to help?" Jane wanted to know. Melisande's head was lying in her lap, and she was drooling on Jane's dress. It was wonderful.

  "I know Switha took some of the girls into the woods," Sibelle said. "She must still be with them. She said the Lady Spring, but she hasn't taken me there yet. Do you know the way?"

  "Vaguely. She took me there in early spring. Cerdic could show me, I suppose." She wanted to find Daffyd, but this was more important at the moment.