He stumbled on the stony bank, regained his balance, and lunged toward the nearest rock. Why didn’t she answer him? What could be so important that she risked falling in?
Sobbing, she leaned farther into the water, as though the object were just out of reach. Her cheek flattened against the pool’s surface, and her hair floated behind her like a silky golden veil.
“Stop!” He leapt onto the first stone. “Be careful—”
Her free hand skidded on the smooth rock. Clawed for a handhold. Slipped.
Head first, she tumbled into the water.
“God’s teeth.” Water splashed over Fane’s boots. He jumped to the third wet, glistening rock and stared at the silk floating on the pool’s surface. Rexana flailed her arms. Her foot slapped the water. Spitting, choking, she surfaced, then stood.
Rubbing water from her cheeks, she blinked down at the mud-swirled pond that came to her waist. She was trembling. Her eyes welled with tears. She looked utterly bedraggled and as vulnerable as a soggy baby rabbit.
Fane’s heart twisted. Hunching down, he extended his hand. “Come out, love. I will help you.”
She sniffled and shook her head. “The brooch fell in. I must find it.”
A groan stirred within Fane. His gaze dropped to her bodice. The little arrow no longer winked and taunted him from its esteemed place above her left breast. A gleeful laugh welled inside him.
As he silently snuffed away his ridiculous thoughts, his gaze drifted lower. His throat thickened. The wet silk dragged down the neckline of her gown. Revealed the enticing cleft between her breasts. Molded to her luscious swells. Her hardened nipples poked against the bodice like two fat, juicy grapes. What a magnificent sight.
“I must find the brooch.” She squinted down into the pool’s clouded depths.
Clearing the lustful haze from his mind, he said, “Stand still. You are stirring the bottom.”
She froze. Her mouth crumpled. “If ’tis lost—”
He caught her icy fingers. “We will find it. Together.”
Another groan rumbled inside Fane, this one born deep in his soul. We. Lovesick fool. He couldn’t refuse to help Rexana, no matter how much he resented her brother and that accursed brooch.
Her face warmed with hope. He released her hand, unlaced and removed his boots, then slid off the rock into the pool.
The chill water sucked the air from his lungs and the heat from his loins. He inhaled once, twice, until the initial shock subsided. As his breaths slowed, he became aware of her warm nearness only a touch away. Of her quickened breathing. Of a sense of expectation humming between them.
He ran his hand across the water’s surface, brushing aside her floating skirts. Her fingers touched his. She didn’t pull them away.
Anticipation shivered through him. He clenched his teeth. Fought the wanton thoughts that leapt into his mind. Focused on the murky swirl of mud and water around him. His nostrils filled with the scents of damp cloth, mud, and sun drenched water. And with Rexana’s tantalizing scent.
Down near his bare feet, where the sunlight just reached, he spied a glint of gold. He ducked beneath the water. Dragged up a handful of mud. As he rose, shaking hair from his face, he sluiced the mud from his fingers.
The brooch winked in the light.
“You found it!”
“I vowed that we would,” he said.
Her eyes shone with gratitude. With her free hand, she wiped tears from her cheeks.
He extended his dripping palm toward her. Her fingers brushed across his skin. Touched the brooch. Then, on a sob, she wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed tight. The little arrow nestled between their wet palms.
Pride and pleasure leapt to life within him. He held her gaze. Questioned, without words, her desires. Strong, sure, her gaze didn’t falter.
Realization shot through him with the echo of a thunderclap. She wanted his kiss.
Expectation throbbed through every part of his body. He savored the press of her flesh against his. Gently swept his thumb across her knuckles, even as he planned how best to give her what she asked.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He smiled. Raised their joined hands. Kissed the backs of her fingers. “Come here, Rexana.”
She tilted her head up, as though startled by his boldness. Sunlight played over her throat and the matted strands of her hair streaming down her bodice. Her lashes dropped on a shiver.
A shiver of interest.
He pulled her toward him. Water lapped against his wet tunic. Chilled his cold flesh. He didn’t care. He wanted her kiss. Needed it. Craved it.
Closer, closer, she came. Her drifting skirts brushed against his groin. His senses flooded with her. Rexana. His wife. The woman of his heart and soul.
Her tongue darted between her lips, dampening them. His patience fled. Burying his hand into her wet hair, he cupped her head. With a groan, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.
He expected resistance—a cry of protest, or her hand, tearing free of his, to press against his tunic. Yet, with a breathless moan, she melted against him. Opened her lips like a sweet, blooming flower. Kissed him back.
Desire roared to life in his veins. She tasted wild. Eager. Like a woman whose fierce hunger matched his own. With his tongue, he deepened the kiss. He’d sensed her rich passion, the untamed desire hidden deep within her. At last, he had unleashed it.
He kissed her until his body thrummed with need, and his soul cried for physical consummation. He tore his lips from hers. Shook his hand free of hers. As she curled her fingers protectively around the brooch, he reached into the water, locked both hands on her waist, and raised her up. He set her upon the closest rock.
Eyes glazed, her mouth reddened with kisses, she braced her hands upon the weathered stone and stared down at him. Expectation shone in her gaze. Shimmering droplets on the ends of her hair dripped into the water. She was beautiful. A water Nereid, gifted to him by some ancient pagan deity.
He set his hands upon her damp, silk-covered knees and parted them. A breath wrenched from her lips. He stepped forward. Claimed the water between them.
Gazing up at her, he trailed one hand up her right calf, shielded from his touch by wet silk. “I want you, Rexana.”
Her breasts rose and fell on a sharp inhalation.
“Tell me you want me. Tell me you want our union.”
Her eyes closed. She pressed her lips together, as though to quell an urgent, impulsive ‘aye.’ “I want you, Fane, but—”
“But what?” His patience broke like cracked stone. He grabbed rock handholds either side of her hips. Bracing his foot against the slick, submerged portion of the boulder, he heaved himself up. His thighs slid between hers. He hovered over her, his arm and shoulder muscles screaming with tension, his body hard and straight as an arrow.
She scrambled backward.
Shaking hair from his cheek, he dropped to his hands and knees. Pulling his sheathed knife from his belt, he tossed it onto the rock. He crawled toward her like a hungry, prowling lion, until he trapped her at the other side. With a low, husky growl, he straddled her.
She lay flat on her back. She stared up into his face. Her wide-eyed gaze shadowed with desire, yet also uncertainty.
The stone’s rough warmth seeped into his palms. In contrast, he imagined the soft, pliant texture of her skin. His hands itched to touch her. Explore her. Free her breasts from the mass of soggy, confining fabric. Bare her beautiful body to the sunlight, so at last, he could see and touch all he desired.
As though reading his thoughts, she pushed up on her elbows. “Fane, cease.”
“Why?” He dipped his head to kiss her brow. Nose. Mouth. Tempted her with slow, deep, persuasive kisses, until her head fell back and she whimpered. “This is what we both want,” he said against her lips. “You cannot deny it. You cannot deny me.”
“I cannot,” she agreed with a helpless gasp, “but—”
“You worry we will be seen?”
He laughed against her creamy neck. “The guards will turn their backs. They will be watching the road”—he nibbled her earlobe—“though there will be few travelers this day. Most of the locals celebrated our wedding feast. They will be lying abed, nursing sore heads.”
His mouth skimmed lower, to the fragrant hollow of her throat. She jerked sideways, thwarting his kiss. “’Tis not . . . being seen.”
He paused. “You wish to lie on my tunic? Is the stone uncomfortable?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“Good.” He smiled, then reached one hand behind him. Caught the sodden fullness of her skirts. Tugged.
“Oh!” She struggled to rise.
With gentle persistence, he pressed her down on her back. Kissed her again. Seduced with his tongue, even as the silk dragged against his wet hose. “Relax, love,” he whispered. “Let me lead this dance.”
Her breaths quickened. Her brow furrowed into a frown, yet before she could answer, he kissed her again. Coaxed her, with nips at the corner of her mouth and down the side of her neck.
“Fane . . . oh. . . .what . . . Oh, mercy.”
One swift tug, and he bared her almost to her thighs. He looked between their bodies at her pale skin and slender legs, lying between his own. A shudder tore through him. He must be patient. He must soothe her virgin uncertainties, to ensure that even her first time, she found pleasure.
She squirmed as though self-conscious, then tried to wriggle free of his hold. As he caught her lips in a reassuring kiss, he reached down to brush his fingers over the smooth swell of her knee. “You are beautiful, Rexana. I will make you feel beautiful. I promise.”
She moaned. Her lashes fluttered, and he slid a hand under her calf. Raised her leg. Guided her bent leg onto his back.
Her body tensed. “Fane.”
Shifting his weight, he eased down to his forearms, until his mouth hovered above hers. His hair brushed her throat.
He kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly.
Then lowered his full weight upon her.
A raw groan ripped through him, the sound of a starving man gifted with a bounteous feast. At last, they lay chest to chest. Belly to belly. Hardness to womanly softness.
Despite layers of damp cloth still separating them, sensual fire blazed through him. His loins tightened. As he expected, her body fit well to his. Their union would be perfect.
He looked down at her lovely face. Her eyes were closed. A blush stained her cheeks. “Fane,” she said thickly. “You must not tempt me like this.”
“You complain, wife?”
“You are most wicked.”
Laughter warmed his throat. “I know.”
She half laughed, half sobbed. “Let me up. I can bear no more.”
He didn’t answer. Words couldn’t convince her like his body could. Pressing a kiss to her brow, he flexed his hips.
She gasped. Her lashes flicked open. He caught the self-reproach and regret in her gaze. Why did she feel so? She treasured her virginity? Or, did she fear the moment of pain that initiated her into womanhood and fully made her his wife?
Before he could ask, a primitive cry warbled in her throat—a sound that voiced his own wanting, need, and hunger.
As though the last of her restraint had fled, she clawed her hands into his hair. Hauled his mouth closer to hers. She kissed him hard, a tempestuous clash of lips and tongue.
Her body shifted under him. Arched against him. Fitted him more fully into her body’s curves.
He shuddered. “Rexana.”
Gasping, panting, he reached between their bodies. Yanked up his wet tunic. Found the points of his hose and tore them free.
Over her urgent kisses, he thought he heard shouts. His imagination. Had to be. Now, of all times, fate wouldn’t be so cruel.
He buried his face against her neck. Pulled the last of his points free. A moment more, then he could ease himself inside her. Plunge into her tight warmth and make her his.
His hardened flesh pulsed with excitement.
Her hands, sliding up under his tunic, stilled. “I hear voices,” she said.
The shouts became insistent.
Hoofbeats drowned out the meadow’s seductive hum.
Fane cursed. He would threaten whoever interrupted with a punishment far worse than ten deadly spiders.
He raised his head.
And froze.
A man’s bellow echoed across the meadow, jolting Rexana from the haze of desire. Her pulse lurched into a sickening thud-thud. She’d heard a cry like that once before. It still echoed in her nightmares.
Scrambling off her, Fane rose to his knees. His expression grim, he fastened his hose, shoved his knife into his belt, and pulled on his leather boots.
A foul, metallic taste flooded Rexana’s tongue as horrible memories invaded her mind. Swallowing hard, she sat up, pushing her gown back down to her ankles, even as her gaze flew to the meadow.
Riders were silhouetted on the road. Two of Fane’s guards stood on the outskirts of the grove, yelling and waving at him. The other two, their horses at a full gallop, were halfway to the stream, pursuing a lone man on horseback. Ahead of the guards by several paces, he kicked his mount as though he were possessed.
With another angry roar, he whipped a sword from its scabbard. Steel gleamed in the sunlight.
Sweat dampened Rexana brow. Her hand, pressed to the rock, curled around the gold arrow. Her nails scratched on the stone.
Her mind hadn’t played tricks on her.
Garmonn was near enough that she saw the fury contorting his mouth and the ugly set of his jaw. Her chest tightened. It hurt to inhale. She heard a strange, wheezing sound, and realized it was her own breathing.
Fane glanced back at her, his visage partly hidden by his snarled hair. “Stay here. Do not move from this rock.”
She shivered at the controlled fury in his words. Memories of Thomas’s anguished cry, of bloodstained snow, whipped through her mind. This time, Fane’s blood would be spilled.
Panic welled between her ribs. She couldn’t let Fane suffer at Garmonn’s hand.
She grabbed Fane’s leg. “Be careful.”
His lips tilted in a grim smile. “He will not harm me. ’Tis time he learned a lesson or two.”
“Nay! He—”
“Later, love, you will tell me. Stay on this rock. Do not cross to the shore until I say you can.”
His boots clipped on the rocks. He leapt off and onto the stony shore. He stooped, collected a few pebbles, then set his hands upon his hips.
Fingers pressed to her mouth, she watched Garmonn tear toward Fane. The guards behind him shouted for him to stop. They kicked their lathered mounts faster.
They wouldn’t catch him. He was too far ahead. He was skilled at eluding pursuit. Many times he had boasted of outrunning murderous Saracens in battle, when they’d tried to corner his mount and cut his head from his body.
As his horse bore down on Fane, the ground seemed to shake. The air pulsed with tension. Her body stiffened. Quivered. A scream burned for release.
Garmonn leaned over his horse’s neck. Adjusted his hold on his sword’s grip. Aimed the blade straight at Fane’s heart.
The horse’s hooves clattered on the bank. Closer. Closer.
Garmonn’s battle roar ripped through the air.
She lunged to her feet. “Naaayyy!”
His face twisted in surprise. The blade wavered a fraction. At the same moment, Fane darted aside. His arm snapped back. A stone whizzed through the air and smacked into Garmonn’s temple.
Garmonn jerked upright. The horse skidded to a halt, reared, and flailed its front legs.
Blood trailed down Garmonn’s forehead to the side of his face. With a jerk on the reins, he steadied his horse. He rubbed his brow with his sleeve. Stared at the crimson stain. Pointed the sword at Fane. “Goddamned barbarian!”
“You wish to kill me?”
Garmonn’s face reddened. “Why should I not? You forced y
ourself upon Rexana.”
Fane laughed. The sound held no warmth, only warning.
Garmonn flicked his sword in her direction. “Rexana’s bliaut is ruined. Her hair is tangled. You must have dragged her kicking and screaming through the water.”
Rexana hugged her arms across her bodice. If only she had a cloak to draw around her to shield her from Garmonn’s roving gaze. Yet, naught could buffer her against his knowing eyes, or the deadly chill that rippled through her. When she saw the anger etched into Fane’s features, the chill deepened.
Oh, Fane. Beware.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guards reach the stream bank. Fane motioned for them to halt. They hesitated, but obeyed.
“Your words are false,” Fane said. “Rexana—”
“I saw.” Garmonn’s eyes narrowed to slits. “She pushed you away. She tried to flee. You would not let her. You forced her down beneath you, yanking up her skirts as though she were some cheap tavern slut. She would not willingly lie with you, so you forced her to rut with you.”
Rexana gasped. How could he accuse Fane of such savagery?
A blush stung her face but, holding her place upon the rock, she met Garmonn’s accusatory stare. She ignored the fear crushing her innards, and prayed that he heeded her. “Please, listen to me. Fane did not—”
“Our affairs are no concern of yours, Garmonn,” Fane interrupted, “but I have never forced Rexana. I have no need.”
Garmonn’s hand tightened on the weapon. “Liar!”
In her mind’s eye, Rexana saw Garmonn’s arm thrust forward. Fane’s face whiten with agony. Blood spatter, thick and red, on the stones.
Oh, God. Oh, God!
As though from a distance, she heard Fane growl. “Lower your sword, Garmonn. Now.”
“Go to hell.”
The pebbles in Fane’s hand clicked together, a grim sound. “You are on my lands. You disturb my privacy and make threats upon my life. You have frightened my wife. Do you wish to spend time in my dungeon?”
“You have suffered no harm. You have no reason to arrest me.” Garmonn’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “My father will convince you that your judgment is flawed.”
“You cannot hide behind your sire’s position, or his goodwill, for the rest of your life.”
Daring Damsels Page 50
