A soft knock fell on his door. So soft that Kian scarcely heard it. He ran a hand over his face and blinked, surprised that he’d not realized Loris had left her chamber and traversed the long hallway to come to him. He always felt her presence when they were both in the castle, and knew where she was. The whiskey must have dulled his senses, he thought. Or perhaps he’d just been too lost in self-pity to think of anything else.
“Kian?” The heavy, medieval latch slowly lifted, and the door pushed slightly open just as Kian turned to look at it. “Are you awake?”
He neither moved nor spoke, but waited, wondering why she’d come.
The door opened wider to reveal her standing in the dimly lit hall, dressed in her nightgown and dressing robe. Her long hair hadn’t been braided, as it normally was each night, but left to fall like a curling, golden waterfall down the length of her back. Her feet, he noticed with a frown, were bare and probably freezing. What on earth had made her leave her room without her slippers? Surely the matter wasn’t so pressing that she couldn’t have taken a moment to put them on.
She saw him sitting by the fire and took a few steps into the room. Her hands were doing what they always did when she was nervous, twisting restlessly, one against the other.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late—so early, I mean,” she said, her voice tellingly high-pitched. “I know I should have waited until later, but I was afraid that—perhaps—you were having as much trouble as I am sleeping.” She released a shaking breath and took another step forward. “Because of what happened earlier,” she clarified. “Because of the things I said. I wanted to come and tell you that I’m sorry. Truly sorry, Kian. I had no right to say such things to you and wish very much that I hadn’t. I know you’ll not want to forgive me. I don’t expect you to, at least not for a long while. But perhaps you might be able to sleep now. Because you must sleep. You’ve been so weary of late, and I don’t want to add to the cause of that. So, I—I’ll just go.” She backed away, toward the door. Her gaze fell away from his. “Good night, Kian,” she said, and closed the door gently behind her.
His heart, Kian discovered, was beating wildly in his chest. He stared at the door and wondered if he’d just imagined what had happened. If Loris had truly been there at all or if it had been a vision wrought by a combination of desire and whiskey.
Slowly, he turned back to face the fire. God help him, but she made such a muddle of his emotions. Want had replaced anger, but that wasn’t anything unusual. And she was lying awake … because of him? She’d been concerned about him. About his weariness. But he’d not be able to sleep now. And he doubted she would, either.
He’d not thought to go to her again as Liw Nos before she left for London. But they were both awake, and there was so little time left for them to be together. And she was feeling guilty about what had happened. Liw could make her feel better. He could give her peace. He always did.
* * *
Loris had tried lying down on her bed when she returned to her own room, but sleep still evaded her. Had she done the right thing in going to make her apology to Kian? He’d said nothing, had given no sign that he accepted her regrets. He’d only sat in his chair, unmoving, and stared at her, his face completely without emotion.
She tossed the bedcovers aside and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the darkness. Would he forgive her? she wondered. But why should he, when she’d said such terrible things to him earlier? Even if she didn’t share his feelings of love, she was certainly well aware that he felt them. Kian had done something for her sake—something difficult—and had denied himself a pleasure he had once enjoyed regularly, before she had come into his life. He had done it for her, because of love, and she had thrown it in his face as if he’d been a fool.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, setting a hand to her forehead as she thought anew of how she’d hurt him. His expression … his eyes … she couldn’t get the memory of them out of her thoughts. Even if she didn’t want Kian to deny himself for her sake, there were dozens—hundreds—of better ways that she could have let him know. Whatever he’d felt for her before must surely now be dead. The fact that he’d said nothing to her when she’d apologized was proof of that, wasn’t it? Kian was never at a loss for words, especially not when he could gain the advantage over her. But he’d said nothing, she thought with despair. He must hate her now. He was probably glad that she was going away to London.
A sudden chill filled the room, causing the fire in the hearth to flicker violently, and Loris looked up to see the balcony doors opening.
Glad hope filled her heart, and she leaped to her feet.
“Liw?”
The next moment his tall, muscular figure appeared, and Loris uttered a cry of relief.
“Oh, Liw!” She hurried across the chamber and into his open arms. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m so glad you’ve come.”
And then she did what she hated doing and burst into tears.
“Darling!” He held her close with one hand and shut the balcony doors with the other, then scooped her up into his arms and crossed the room to sit in one of the comfortable chairs near the fire. “What’s wrong, Loris? Don’t cry, love.”
“Oh, Liw,” she said, pressing her face against the comforting solidness of his chest. “I’ve done such a terrible thing to Kian. I said such awful things to him, and he was hurt by them.”
“Shhhh,” he murmured, and kissed the top of her head. “You couldn’t have done anything so dreadful. I’m sure he’s forgiven you for whatever it may be.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “I went to apologize and he just stared at me. He didn’t say anything. Not a word. I don’t blame him, but I thought … I thought he’d at least—” Tears made it impossible to finish the thought.
“I’m surprised that you care so much about what Kian Seymour thinks or feels,” he said, stroking gentle fingers over her head, down her back. “He hasn’t always been kind to you.”
Loris drew in a shaking breath and strove to master herself. “No, he hasn’t,” she said at last. “But this was different, Liw. If only you could have seen his face. He’s never … never looked at me like that before. It was as if I’d b-broken his heart.” She uttered a sob. “I c-can’t stop thinking of it.”
“Hush, sweet,” he whispered, and gathered her even more closely into his embrace. “If he suffered a little, then perhaps it was for his own good. And perhaps … perhaps it means that your own feelings for him aren’t precisely what you think. Perhaps you love him a little, Loris. Could it be?”
Loris stilled at the idea.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Don’t you?” he asked. “But then why would you care so much about hurting him?”
She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, then, calmer, relaxed against him.
“I don’t know,” she said once more, and it was the truth. “He makes me crazed. Nothing is simple where Kian is concerned. But once, when we first met, I thought for a moment that I …”
“What?” he prompted.
She shook her head and sighed. “Nothing. It was so long ago that I often think my memory of it can’t be trusted. But it doesn’t matter now.” She lifted her face to look up at him. “How did you know that I needed you so much tonight, Liw? I didn’t have any hope of seeing you again before I left.”
His fingers, warm and strong, cradled her face, and his dark eyes gazed into hers. “I had to come,” he murmured. “I had to see you once more, Loris. I couldn’t stay away, even when I knew I should.”
He lowered his head to kiss her, gently at first and then more fully. Loris found his nearness deeply comforting and returned the embrace, sliding her arm up about his neck.
“I’m glad,” she whispered when he pulled away. “I’m going to miss you so terribly, Liw.”
“Do you love me, Loris?” he asked. “I know that you don’t feel as I do—I’ve never expected you to. But do you love me—even a little?”
“Of cours
e I love you,” she said, touching his cheek with her fingertips. “Very much.”
“Not only as a friend,” he said, grasping her hand to still it. He gazed at her intently. “Do you love me enough to trust me completely? To let me give you peace and respite beyond what you’ve known before?”
Loris gazed at him for a long moment. Her heart seemed to beat faster as the seconds passed, and her breathing heightened. At last, she said faintly, “Yes, Liw.”
His breathing quickened, too. He kissed her again and then rose from the chair, carrying Loris in his arms. He stopped just before they reached the bed, and set her on her feet.
“We have lain together here many times before now,” he said, framing her face with his hands. “And we have given each other innocent pleasure. I’ve taken you to the edge of fulfillment, but never completely over to it, for I didn’t believe that right was mine. But now I want to make you a gift of such pleasure, if you’ll let me. If you’ll trust me. I’ll not take your maidenhead,” he promised, “and if you tell me to stop at any time, I will.” His thumbs stroked lightly over her high cheekbones. “You’ve often wondered what it would be like to finish the journey we’ve so often started, have you not, my love? Will you let me give you this gift?”
Loris swallowed hard against the nervousness that was rapidly rising within her and knew a strange, fleeting longing for Kian. But Kian wasn’t here, and Liw was. Liw, who was so safe and certain, who had given her so much pleasure during his many visits. He was right. She had wondered what lay beyond the touches they had shared. Beyond innocent pleasure, as he’d called it.
“Yes, Liw,” she murmured. “I trust you.” And she did.
He smiled, and his hands fell from her face to slide about her shoulders and draw her near. He brought his mouth to her own, touching her lips with his tongue, then sliding beyond to caress the depths of her mouth. He hadn’t been the one to teach her this manner of kissing; Kian had done that. But Liw had been the one to show her just how sensuous a pleasure it could be when done gently, without hurry or the fear of impending pain.
His fingers found the single lace at the neckline of her simple gown and pulled it free of the bowknot Loris had earlier looped it into. The garment loosened about her shoulders, and then he pushed it off altogether.
Loris felt the cloth pooling at her feet, felt air touching her bare skin, and pulled free of Liw’s kiss. She had never been so naked as this before him; he had touched and kissed her breasts, but always through the opening of her gown. She felt suddenly embarrassed and looked away, feeling Liw’s gaze on her.
“Loris,” he said, and drew in a sharp breath. “I’ve dreamed of you so often, but you’re far more lovely than any dream could be.” His hands trembled as they coursed lightly over her arms, her waist and hips. “You’re beautiful. So perfect and beautiful. Come and lie with me, love.”
He picked her up and set her in the middle of the bed, her head upon the pillows. Then he sat beside her, pulling off his boots, never taking his gaze from her, and stood to pull his tunic off and toss it aside. He smiled as he moved toward her, clad only in his leggings, saying, “You look at me as if you’ve never seen me before.”
She had seen his bare chest before—it was quite magnificent to look at—and had touched that same chest countless times. But somehow he seemed more handsome. More masculine and fine.
“I think you’re far more beautiful than I am,” she said as he came to lie beside her, setting a palm against his smooth, warm skin, feeling the muscles beneath.
“Then your judgment is seriously to be questioned,” he said, sounding so much like Kian that Loris felt a slight sense of surprise. But he began to kiss her again, and his hands began to move over her, and sensation overwhelmed thought.
His mouth moved lower and his tongue touched the tip of one nipple, licking lightly, while his hand covered the other breast completely, kneading with gentle pressure. Loris closed her eyes, trying to hold back the moan of pleasure on her lips, but then his mouth closed over her nipple completely and she lost the battle. She lay beneath him, arching upward toward the wet heat of his tongue and lips as he took his pleasure of first one, then her other breast. She tried to say his name, but he rose up at the sound and stopped the word on her mouth, kissing her deeply.
She was trembling when he at last pulled away. His tongue laved a path down her neck again, past her shoulders and even past her breasts, down to her stomach, where the rapid kisses he pressed against her skin made her shiver.
“Oh no,” she murmured breathlessly as he moved lower. She fisted both hands in his hair and made him stop.
He laughed, his breath pelting her skin. “All right,” he said.
“We’ll save that for another time. Darling, you’re pulling my hair out by the roots.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, and forced her taut fingers to release their steely grip. “Sorry.”
“Shhh.” He moved to lie half beside her, half over her. “It’s all right. Relax, love. I’ll not do anything that you don’t wish.” His hands stroked over her legs, up her thighs, his fingers moving with gentle care. “Only let me give you pleasure.” His fingers slid upward, drifting across her hips, then lightly—so lightly—feathering over the curls between her legs.
Loris shuddered and drew in a sharp breath. One of his hands moved to slip beneath her head, turning her to receive his kiss, while the other slid farther down, gently parting her legs. “Let me touch you, love. Open yourself for me. Yes, like that. Just like that.”
His hand pressed closer, and she felt one of his fingers slipping gently inside the folds of her body.
“Liw,” she moaned. It felt so very strange, and a little frightening. “Liw.”
“I’m not Liw tonight,” he whispered huskily, against her lips. “I’m the man who loves you, Loris. Your heart”—he drew in a sharp breath as his finger pushed all the way inside her—“your heart tells you the truth. Oh, Loris. You feel so—” But he could only make an inarticulate noise, which made him sound as if he were dying from the pleasure of touching her. His hips moved and she felt his manhood, fully aroused, pressing against her.
Loris kept her eyes tightly shut as sensation washed over her. He pulled his hand slowly out, then pressed in again, and she could hear the sound of wetness. He made the movement again, then again, and then she felt another finger joining the first, stretching her, filling her.
“Oh,” she uttered foolishly, unable to think of anything coherent. She could only feel, and what she felt was unlike anything she’d known before. Pleasure began to build, growing stronger with each thrust of his fingers, and then his thumb touched her in another place—far more sensitive, so that the pleasure became a kind of pain.
Loris had no idea what she said or moaned or did. His mouth moved over her face, kissing, and he spoke, but she made no sense of any of it. It wasn’t Liw’s voice any longer. It was Kian’s. Kian’s face that she saw, even when she closed her eyes, and Kian’s voice telling her he loved her … loved her … loved her …
The pleasure in her exploded, then, and Loris clutched at him, digging her nails into his scalp and shoulder, and cried out his name. Her body lurched upward, seeking his touch and the pleasure it gave. And all the while he murmured and told her he loved her and said her name. Kian’s voice. Kian’s words.
Sensation overpowered her completely, followed by a sweet darkness and an intense feeling of relief. Her eyes drifted shut, and she was only vaguely aware that his body was yet moving with passion, thrusting against her, and only dimly heard his hoarse cry of release. Then he fell still, gasping for breath and lying heavily upon her. Loris didn’t mind in the least. His body felt wonderful. With what little strength she had left, she slid her arms about him, pushing one hand into his silken hair.
He made a groaning sound and shifted, nestling more comfortably against her. His own arm came about her waist, and he murmured something soft and indistinguishable against the bare skin of her sh
oulder before falling still.
Loris smiled and, holding him near, followed him into slumber.
Kian came awake slowly, savoring the comfort of his bed and the knowledge that he’d had a long, much-desired rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good upon waking. This well rested.
He had no idea what time it was, whether it was morning or afternoon. The heavy bed curtains were drawn, shutting out all light.
Turning on the pillows, he stretched and began to feel the rumblings of an empty stomach. He hoped Loris had something ready for him to eat. Something hot and savory. But she would, of course. She always seemed to know exactly what he desired.
He sighed and slowly pushed up into a sitting position. God’s mercy, but he felt good. His body felt as relaxed and replete as in the old days, when he’d been in the habit of …
“Oh, God.”
He recalled everything all at once, in one brilliant flash of memory.
“Oh, God above.”
He thrust the curtains apart and swung his legs to the side of the bed.
“Loris!” he called, momentarily blinded by the light filling the chamber. Blinking, shading his eyes, he rose and looked about. “Loris!”
She wasn’t there. The room was in perfect order. Her traveling trunks had been packed and were sitting by the door, waiting to be taken out. And his clothes—his clothes, not Liw’s, for they must have transformed back to their original state, as well—were neatly folded and lying on a chair near the bed. His boots sat on the floor, side by side.
“No,” he murmured. “No. Oh, God.”
He strode to the nearest mirror and looked at his reflection, hoping against all hope that Liw’s dark eyes would be staring back at him. But it was his blue eyes—his own wide and horrified blue eyes—that greeted him.
Touch of Passion Page 15
