Dark Warrior (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  She snuggled up against him, savoring the heat pouring off the huge body cradling hers.

  “Do you realize that you have shown me more love in just a few days than I’ve been shown in the entire rest of my life?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot imagine anyone not loving you,” he said on a note of disbelief. “I love everything about you. How brave you are. How funny you are. How beautiful you are. You are sensual and seductive and I love that you are not afraid of sex.”

  “Afraid! I love sex! Especially sex with you.”

  “You have the most wonderful climaxes of any woman I have ever known.” He kissed her. “You take my breath away.”

  “’Tis you.” she contradicted. “My climaxes come from you. Never have I had such powerful ones in my entire life!” The enthusiasm in her voice was almost childlike.

  His entire body went still. He raised his head and looked down at her. “You have had climaxes before me?” he asked quietly, carefully. His expression was unreadable.

  “Ummm…” Blessed Virgin, what have I done? She blushed furiously, realizing that she had just given herself away. Ducking her head, she stared fixedly at his square jaw, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

  “Kathryn?”

  She hunched her shoulders, still unable to look at him. “Aye, my love?”

  “Care to explain yourself?”

  “I–I gave myself orgasms. With my fingers.” If she could have disappeared into a hole at that moment, she would gladly have done so. But when she risked a quick glance up at him, cringing and with one eye shut, the relief she felt was enormous.

  He was smiling. A primal, primitive, arrogant smile. He lifted her chin with his hard fingers, never taking his eyes off of hers. “You masturbated!” he exclaimed, taking her mouth in a swift, carnal kiss.

  “I—is that what it’s called?”

  “Aye, that is the word for pleasuring yourself sexually. Masturbation.” He chuckled. “I told you I knew all the important words. But, ’tis naught to be ashamed of, beloved.”

  “’Tis a sin!” she cried. “Doing anything for pleasure is a sin!”

  “According to whom?”

  “The Bible, the Church, the nuns—”

  “The nuns,” he scoffed. “A bunch of dried-up, vinegary old harpies whose only joy in life was to systematically destroy the joy in yours.” He shook his head firmly. “And there is no passage in the Bible forbidding pleasure.”

  “’Tis fornication!” she cried, shocked.

  “Certes? And who, exactly, has decided which specific acts should be defined as fornication?” he asked scathingly.

  “I—the Church?”

  “Aye. The Church. Men. Men who are expressly forbidden to experience sexual gratification of any kind. Yet who indulge in it with alarming frequency, both with themselves, each other, and with women.” He shook his head. “Prithee, beloved, do not get me started on the Church. I have no use for power-hungry, hypocritical men who use false piety to cover up their own venal sins, and take unholy delight in forbidding happiness and pleasure to everyone else.” He sighed. “Hear me, beloved. Pleasuring yourself is no sin. In fact, now that I know you do it, I plan to have you do it in front of me. Often.” His eyes grew so dark they swallowed up the light. “So I can watch.”

  Her breath hitched with raw, jagged need at the predatory look in his eyes. But he wasn’t through with his interrogation yet. “How did you know how to do that? Touch yourself, I mean…there.”

  She squirmed under his scrutiny, clearly uncomfortable with his questions.

  “Do not be embarrassed, love. I want to know who taught you that.” There was a long pause, but he showed no signs of backing down, so she sighed.

  “I used to be invisible when I was a child,” she finally said. “Nobody ever really saw me. I had favorite places I liked to go and hide when I wanted to be alone to daydream. Places where nobody could bother me. There was a cherry tree in the corner of one of the gardens. A hedge with a hollowed-out space behind it. An enormous fir tree whose lower branches touched the ground, making sort of a tent.” Her shoulders squirmed as she tried to draw back from his embrace, but his hold was firm.

  When she realized he wasn’t going to let her go, that she was going to have to tell him all her sinful, dirty little secrets, she subsided, wishing the earth would split open and swallow her up. “I’ve never told this to anyone before,” she said quietly. “Not even to the priests at Confession. It seemed too wicked.”

  “And I told you that you could tell me everything,” he countered. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “That you will realize how truly evil and depraved I am and will stop loving me.”

  He laughed and hugged her close. “Never fear, beloved. There is naught you could ever say or do that would make me not love you. If it takes me the rest of my life to convince you of that, then I look forward to the task. So, tell me what turned you into the wanton, sensual, wicked woman you are today.” His teasing eased her embarrassment.

  “I used to watch the knights and their ladies as they strolled and flirted in the gardens,” she began after a deep sigh. “At first ’twas fun, but one day, when I was around twelve, I was up in the cherry tree. One of the knights brought a lady out to the garden. At first they were just kissing and laughing and touching. But then, all of a sudden, everything changed.

  “They began pulling at each other’s clothes and before I could let them know that I was there, they were both naked. Then he began…fucking her. That’s what he called it—fucking. It excited me so, my skin was hot and tingling all over. I didn’t know what was happening to me. But I wanted it to happen again.

  “Over the next three years I witnessed more fucking than I could possibly have imagined. There was one knight who made his ladies touch themselves so he could watch. It seemed so…intense. So…” she shrugged. “They both enjoyed it so much. So I started touching myself as I watched them. And the first time I brought myself to climax, I understood what it was all about. I began to wish it was me they were…fucking.”

  To Kathryn’s utter amazement, Nicholas threw back his head and laughed, a hearty sound rolling up from deep in his belly. “That explains it!” he crowed happily. “Sweet Jesu! That explains it!”

  “Explains what?” she frowned.

  “You! That strange and wonderful combination of innocent and wanton that you are. Through me, you are living out all your sexual fantasies!”

  “Sweet mercy, Nicholas, I’m so sorry,” she said in a stricken voice, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. “How can you ever forgive me?”

  “Fie, beloved, there is naught to forgive. I am perfectly happy to let you act out any sexual fantasy you can devise. Just as long as you know that it’s me who’s pleasuring you.”

  She gave him a superior little smile. “That it is I who is pleasuring you,” she corrected him primly.

  He laughed and leaned forward to place his forehead against hers. “In case you haven’t noticed, Kathryn Weston, I love having sex with you. Because I love you. I love you to the bottom of my soul. Every time I join my body with yours, not only does our physical bond grow stronger, but so does our spiritual bond. My need for you goes far beyond sex, beloved. You are the other half of me. You are the beat of my heart, the light in my soul.

  “And now that I know you’re not going to be frightened by aught I do to you, the sky’s the limit. We can do all those wicked, wonderful things you witnessed in your father’s garden. Plus a few others I can think of.” His eyes darkened as he pulled his head back slightly to look into hers. “I love fucking you, Kathryn. And I’m going to fuck you in every way possible. As often as possible.”

  “Oh, God, I hope so.” Her voice was breathless.

  Chapter Seven

  As Nicholas was preparing to leave the next morning for a meeting with Sir John Lowden, Rolf appeared for Kathryn’s dance lesson. He brought three musicians with him. Bowing low, he kissed her hand. “Good morrow, my lady
,” he murmured, smiling that lazy, sensuous smile that sent her heart skidding and flipping over in her breast.

  Blessed Mary, he was sin personified, with those deep cavernous eyes, that perfectly shaped bald head, that lean, lanky, hard-muscled body that moved with such elegant grace. The bear skin vest and leggings, and the two swords rising above his shoulders gave him a dark, dangerous look, like a Viking raider preparing to plunder and pillage.

  “Art thou ready for thy first dance lesson?” he asked in that voice that seemed to rumble up from the deepest caverns of the earth.

  “Aye,” she said enthusiastically. She had had quite a while to think about it and she was definitely looking forward to this.

  “Enjoy your lesson, beloved,” Nicholas said, pulling her close for a heart-stopping kiss. “I’ll be back anon to join you for the midday meal.”

  She watched him leave, her hand at her breast.

  “Come, min skat,” Rolf’s low voice in her ear jerked her attention back to him. He was standing right behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. “We’ll begin with the bransle,” he said encouragingly. “’Tis one of the most common dances, and the steps are simple.”

  He pushed the table and chairs up against the wall beside the fireplace, clearing the center of the room. The musicians arranged the chairs to their liking and sat down, ready to play. Taking her hands, Rolf stood beside her and patiently walked her through the basic steps of the popular circle dance. When he felt she had mastered them sufficiently, he had the musicians play as they danced around the solar.

  Then he changed the steps, adding leaps, hops, and kicks and once again led her around the floor, in time to the music. He guided her through several variations of the basic circle dances, including one which had his hands spanning her waist in a lift for a dance called “Toss the Duchess.” By the time they finished, several hours later, Kathryn was laughing and flushed and happily out of breath. And so thirsty she sent young Jamie to fetch them some ale.

  Rolf dismissed the musicians, leaving the two of them alone. “Well done, my lady. Thou hast learned much this day.” He pulled her up against him in an embrace he fully intended to be quick and impersonal. But once she was in his arms, once he was holding her, touching her, he couldn’t seem to let her go. He held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

  God in heaven, she felt good in his arms. And she smelled fantastic, like lavender and roses and sweet, hot woman. No wonder Nicholas had fallen in love with her. As he himself was about to do if he were not careful. He could feel his unruly cock beginning to throb and harden. He dared not let her feel it.

  He made a move to release her, but as soon as she felt his arms loosen, she threw her own around his waist and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. “Thank you, Rolf,” she said in a heartfelt voice. “That was so much fun. Are there any other dances?”

  “Oh, aye, min skat. Many more. Some of them quite complicated. But thou hast learned enough basic steps to be able to dance at thine own wedding.”

  “Min skat,” she repeated, drawing back her head to look up at him. “You’ve called me that more than once. What does it mean?”

  “It means ‘my lady.’”

  This time there was no hesitation, but the way he avoided her eyes confirmed her suspicions that he was lying.

  Unfortunately, before she could bring him to task on the subject, Jamie arrived with two stout tankards of ale. “A toast,” Rolf said, his glittering gaze holding hers. “To the new Duchess of Berwick.” He touched his tankard to hers. “May you dance through life as gracefully as you danced with me today.” He drank thirstily, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Jamie restored the table and chairs to their rightful place before the fireplace, so Kathryn indicated that Rolf should sit, not yet wanting to say good-bye to this fascinating man who bristled with the most formidable weapons, yet was soft-spoken and danced with an elegant grace that was so sensual it made her breathless to watch him.

  He hesitated, knowing that it would be better for them both if he took his leave. That it was sheer folly to remain alone in the same room with her. Today he had worn his longest, thickest bearskin jerkin, praying to Odin himself that he could keep his rampant erection hidden from her. But judging by the determined set to her jaw, he had most likely failed.

  “Rolf…” She met his eyes squarely. “What does min skat really mean?”

  “’Tis naught.” His gaze slid away from hers, his eyes darting quickly around the room as if seeking assistance from the walls, the ceiling, the furniture. “An endearment one gives to babies,” he said with a shrug, “naught more.”

  “Then why can you not look me in the eye?” she asked, folding her arms over her breasts and regarding him sternly. “I care not for liars, sir knight.”

  At first she thought he was not going to answer. Then, when he spoke, his voice was the deepest she had ever heard it. “It means, ‘my darling.’ Or ‘my treasure.’”

  The breath left her lungs. Eyes wide, she licked her lips. She was floundering, drowning in the turbulent depths of his ocean-blue eyes. “And am I?” she asked, hardly daring to hope. “Your darling? Your treasure?”

  He began to turn away, but her touch on his forearm kept him in place. “Am I?” she repeated softly.

  “Aye,” he finally admitted. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I’ll—I’ll have someone else finish your dance instruction—”

  “Nay, Rolf, I wish for you to teach me.” She looked at him, anguish twisting her face, filling her voice. “I love Nicholas with every fiber of my being. He is my heart. My soul.” She took a step closer to him. “But there is something here, too.” Her hand waggled back and forth between the two of them. “Something between us. ’Tis something I do not understand. But, ’tis real and I can no longer deny or ignore it.”

  He tried to turn away. “Thou must ignore it, min skat, as must I. To act upon it would dishonor us all and would force me to leave Berwick. Nick would be happy to see the back of me.”

  “Nay, Rolf, you must stay. Nick is your best friend. The brother of your heart. I could not bear it if I were the one to break that bond between you.” She walked right up to him, placing her hand on his chest. “We must be able to work this—whatever it is—out. I pray you, Rolf, please do not leave us.”

  The look on his face was pure torment. “My lady—Kathryn—my love—” An inarticulate cry wrenched from his lips. Unable to stop himself, he reached out his hand, gently lifting a stray tendril of red-gold hair, intending to tuck it back behind her ear. But instead he changed his mind, staring thoughtfully at the silken strands, rubbing them between his thumb and his first two fingers. Then he moved his gaze to her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, back to her mouth. He studied her for a long time, his eyes roaming over the beloved features of her face. Then with a sigh, he completed the gesture, tucking it over her ear. “My Inge was like the light of the moon,” he said softly, barely aware that he was speaking. “But thou, min skat…” He opened his hand to cradle the side of her face. “Thou…thou art like the brightest sunshine warming the darkest corners of my soul.”

  She couldn’t stop herself. She leaned into his touch, letting the heat of his skin soak into her, though it did little to warm that place deep inside that was frozen by guilt.

  “I must not abide here, min skat. Not now. Not feeling about thee the way that I do—”

  She lifted her hand to cover his. “I have feelings, too, Rolf,” she whispered. “Feelings for you. Would you just leave me here with them unresolved?”

  With a groan, he pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Nay, yndling, I would not leave thee at all if I had my choice.”

  “Then we must think of a way to give you a choice.”

  “Would that we could, kaereste. Would that we could. But it would be better for everyone if I left. Thy love for Nicholas will help thee forget all about me.” He tilted his head back far enough so he could look dow
n at her, and, not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by this devastating man. What would his lips feel like against hers? What would they taste like? She didn’t even feel the tears sliding down her cheeks until Rolf swiped his thumb across her wet skin. “Weep not, yndling. I cannot bear knowing I made thee weep.”

  They were standing thus when Nicholas returned to the solar. If he was shocked or dismayed at seeing his future wife in the arms of his best friend, he hid it well. And if they felt at all uncomfortable at being so discovered, it was not readily apparent. They did not jerk apart and look around guiltily. In fact, they stayed the way they were as Nicholas came up to them and put his arms around Kathryn from behind, effectively cocooning her between them, making her feel safe and protected and loved.

  Nicholas kissed the top of her head. For a long moment, neither man said anything. They just stared deeply into each other’s eyes, communicating volumes without speaking a word.

  Nicholas and Rolf had been in this position before, sharing a woman between them. But never a woman like Kathryn. Never a woman they both admired and respected. Never a woman they both loved. A woman who appealed to all that was masculine in them. A woman who could be terribly hurt by what neither man was yet willing to admit to wanting, although both of them were certainly thinking about it, letting the idea nibble tantalizingly at the black edges of both their thoughts. Watching his best friend carefully, Nicholas knew the instant Rolf rejected the idea. Hmmm. This might take more persuading than I thought.

  Careful not to reveal the direction of his thoughts, Nicholas dropped his gaze to look down at the top of his future wife’s golden head. “How did Her Ladyship fare with the dancing?” he finally asked against her hair, directing his question at Rolf, but not looking at him.

  “Her Ladyship is a natural, Nick. Quick and graceful.”