Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  An intense thrill seared through her. His flesh felt smooth against hers. She wanted more. She wanted to taste the wildness his body promised. With a greedy moan, she tilted her hips up.

  He pressed forward.

  Pain stabbed between her legs. Pressure. Her entire body tensed, and her breath jammed in her throat.

  He groaned. “You feel wondrous. Perfect.”

  Perfect? “Ouch. Fane?”

  With utmost tenderness, he kissed her and nuzzled her cheek. “The pain will fade, I promise.” He slowly withdrew, then gently eased forward again. “At last, love, you are mine.”

  His strangled tone washed through her. Reassurance and pleasure warmed her soul as she blinked away tears. No man had spoken to her with the desperation, honesty, and love she heard in Fane’s voice.

  “And you are mine,” she murmured and touched his cheek.

  He stilled, as though surprised by her words, then smiled. “I am.”

  He thrust again. The pain dimmed, fading to an elusive craving.

  He began a slick rhythm that erased all memory of discomfort. Delicious heat filled her hips, belly, and limbs, right to the tips of her fingers.

  It grew. Grew. Grew.

  A new, intoxicating pressure built between her legs. Fane’s breath hissed between his teeth. His hair brushed her face. She tossed her head and curled her hips into his thrusts. Restless. Needy.

  Her fingers clawed into the grass and violets beneath her.

  “Do you feel the wildness, Rexana?” he rasped above her.

  “Aye.” She stared up into his dark, hungry eyes.

  Heat flared.

  She dragged in a breath. Once. Twice.

  “Fane!” Sensation exploded.

  He stiffened above her. A growl wrenched from him. The harsh, primitive sound filled her with wonder.

  Her body throbbed, again and again. As the pulses faded, she unclenched her hands from the crushed grass. The fresh glade air filled her lungs. She smelled the musky scent of aroused male, sweat, and violets. Bittersweet pleasure stirred within her.

  Now, she was his. Body, heart, and soul.

  Fane dropped his face into the warm cradle between Rexana’s neck and shoulder. He listened to the wind sigh around them, the birds chatter, and her slowing breaths.

  Rexana smelled wonderful. Sated.

  His blood cooled. His body purred.

  He lay there for some moments, savoring the scent of her. Contentment flooded through him. He’d succeeded in wooing her. She’d finally accepted the rightness of their marriage. He prayed she didn’t have virgin regrets.

  She swallowed.

  Steeling himself against her tears, he braced himself up on one elbow to look down at her. A blush stained her face. The enticing rosy hue ran all the way down her throat to her gown’s neckline. With a sting of regret, he realized they were both still fully clothed. In the mad rush to have her, he hadn’t even taken the time to undress her.

  She looked away, so he brushed a finger down her cheek.

  “Are you well?”

  A smile touched her mouth. “Mmm.”

  “’Twas pleasurable for you, our coupling?”

  She stirred beneath him. “Most pleasurable.” Frowning, she added, “Though I did not expect to be dressed.”

  Heat warmed his cheekbones. “I was impatient.”

  “Indeed?” Her smile turned wry before she pressed her hands against his shoulders, an entreaty for him to move. He rolled off her into the violets, and she sat up.

  She righted her creased gown and fumbled with the loosened ties, then threw up her hands in dismay.

  “The birds do not care that your bliaut is unfastened.”

  She flipped her straggly braid over her shoulder and looked at him. “They would not care if I were nude.”

  He wagged his eyebrows. “True.”

  Her flush deepened. A spark lit her eyes, a moment before she stood. “I am going down to the water to bathe.”

  “I will come too.”

  She didn’t answer, but walked toward the glinting pool. He pushed to his feet, fastening his hose.

  As Rexana trampled a path through the grass, her body swayed. He smiled. She moved like a woman who had experienced her own sensual power. Who had tasted love, and knew it to be good.

  Raking a hand through his snarled hair, he followed her. She kicked off her shoes and stepped barefoot into the mud. She hesitated, stared down at the gray-green water, then hugged her arms over her breasts.

  Sunlight washed over her profile. She looked ravishing, yet also vulnerable. Fane stepped down into the mud and, before he cautioned himself, wrapped his arms around her waist. A tremor rippled through her.

  He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Love?”

  She sighed.

  “You cannot regret our coupling.”

  “I do not. ’Twas what I wanted. Yet—”

  He looked down at the glassy reflection of them together. “Here, in this glade, we think only of our pleasure. Not what has been, or what must be.”

  Her body tensed. “’Tis not so simple a decision for me.”

  Pushing aside her braid, he nipped her skin. “Nay?”

  She shuddered. Heat shot through his loins. His manhood pulsed. Hardened. Again, he craved the luscious taste and feel of her, the velvety warmth of her body encasing him.

  Before he could kiss her again, she wiggled free of his arms. She reached down, caught her bliaut and shift, and whisked them over her head. Light played over her naked back and the fetching curves of her bottom.

  The air shot from his lungs. In his wildest imaginings, he hadn’t come close to her true beauty.

  Sweeping wispy hair from her cheek, she partly turned toward him. A mischievous smile touched her mouth. “You are impatient again, milord. This time, you must wait.”

  He growled. “I will not.”

  She laughed. Ran into the water. Dove under with a splash.

  His blood thumped with challenge. He groped for his clothing. Cursed his clumsy hands. He yanked off his tunic and shirt and, as he hopped out of his hose and boots, saw her surface at the far edge of the pool near a cluster of rocks and a fallen, gnarled tree.

  She blew water from her lips, then brushed hair from her face. As she turned to glance at him, he charged, roaring, into the pool.

  Her eyes widened. She submerged.

  Fane opened his eyes in the water. She swam ahead of him, past a school of fish that darted in and out of the light, their backs glinting like bits of silver. He kicked hard. Pulled his arms through the water. Closed the space between them. Caught her ankle, and yanked her to him.

  She surfaced in his arms. Splashing. Squawking. Water droplets glinted on her eyelashes.

  “Fie! How did you cross so qui—”

  He smothered her words with a kiss. She resisted for an instant, then, with a mewl, softened into his embrace.

  He gently propelled her backward, against a semi-submerged rock. The water lapped just below her breasts. As he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers and stared down at the luscious swell of flesh so close within reach.

  His.

  Knotting his fingers into her hair, he tipped her head back. She laughed, and he sensed her heavy-lidded gaze upon him as he laved and kissed her satiny neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Little gasps burst from her lips. When he cupped her breasts in his hands, she groaned.

  Madness shot through him. He had to have her. He coaxed her up out of the water. Followed her, dripping, onto the sunny rock. Urged her to lie on her back. This time, she smiled up at him with understanding and anticipation. When he thrust into her, she cried out with her own need.

  He took her with care. Thoroughness. Watched the pleasure bloom on her face. Cherished each of her cries and moans, before taking his release. He loved her, as his soul mate deserved to be loved.

  Afterward, he lay beside her on the rock, his eyes closed, one hand splayed on her belly. He lost hims
elf in the lap of water, the drone of dragonflies, and his utter contentment.

  She sighed, a thoughtful sound. “Tell me about her.”

  Fane roused from near slumber to crack open one eye. A chill skittered through him. Did she ask about Leila?

  “Who, love?” He feigned a yawn, and prayed his sleepiness would deter her questions.

  “The Saracen courtesan. The one you met in the east.”

  A silent oath exploded in Fane’s mind. He had no wish to discuss Leila with Rexana. Not now.

  The chill slipped deep into his soul. If he told Rexana the truth, it might change how she felt about him. He might lose her.

  He wet his lips with his tongue. “Rexana.”

  Turning onto her side, she braced her head on one hand. Her legs brushed against his. “I wish to . . . I must know if the rumors are true.”

  He fought to keep the edge from his voice. “Why? The past is the past.”

  Looking down, she traced a furrow in the rock. “I still want to know.”

  He rolled onto his back. The rock’s warmth seeped into his skin. The earthy scent of sun-baked stone filled his nostrils, taunted him with memories of merciless desert heat and what seemed a lifetime ago.

  His gut whined. He didn’t have to tell her. He could fabricate a tale, tell her only what he thought she wanted to hear. Yet, he hated the thought of deceiving her. His soul mate, of all people, deserved to know the truth.

  “She was very beautiful,” he began. As he spoke, Leila’s olive-skinned, dark-eyed image filled his mind. He remembered her fragrance, as sultry as incense. “She was General Gazir’s favorite courtesan.”

  Rexana’s gaze darkened. “And yours?”

  Fane smiled, but couldn’t ignore the sadness piercing through him. “Your jealousy is ill placed, love. Leila is dead.”

  As though sensing his inner turmoil, Rexana fell quiet. Yet, he saw countless questions burning in her eyes.

  “General Gazir ruled a fortress not far from Acre,” Fane said. “He paid allegiance to Saladin, whom King Richard defeated at Acre.”

  She nodded. “I have heard of Saladin.”

  “I went to the holy land long before King Richard. I had joined his crusade, but was starved for adventure.” A tight laugh broke from him. “As you have probably heard, my father disowned me. I had no land, no coin, so I could barely feed myself. I could not wait to leave England.”

  “Oh, Fane,” she whispered.

  “I proposed that some fellow crusaders and I go on ahead to spy on the Saracens, and gather information for when the king arrived at Acre. He agreed. We left soon afterward. After many setbacks, we reached the shores near Acre, but were attacked. Most were slaughtered. A few of us were captured and sent to Gazir’s dungeon.” The stench of the eastern hell pit roused in Fane’s mind, and he shuddered. “We were chained. Beaten. Tortured.”

  Her gaze softened. She stared at his scars, and inside, he curled up into a ball. He felt exposed, as though he bared not only his marred flesh, but his soul.

  “Go on,” she said gently.

  Steeling emotion from his voice, he said, “One by one, the others went mad or died. I refused to surrender. I refused to abandon faith in my king or hope of escape. There were nights, though, that I longed for oblivion.”

  “How did you survive?”

  Fane looked up at Rexana. Her fair skin glowed. Her loosened hair, flowing over the rock, had almost dried in the sun’s heat. She looked fresh, innocent, the very opposite of Leila’s blatant sensuality.

  “Without Leila, I would not have lived.” Rexana’s eyes flared with shock, but he pressed on. “The first time I saw her, she had come to the dungeon out of sheer curiosity. She wanted to see the Christian knight who was too stubborn to die. I remember lying in my cell and hearing bells. I thought angels had come for me. I opened my eyes to see her outside the bars. Her costume glittered like stars on a clear winter night.” He rubbed his lips together. “Soon, she visited every day. She brought ointments and oils and tended my wounds.”

  “General Gazir let her?”

  Brutal shivers raked down Fane’s spine. “As the months passed, I grew in value to him. In his own twisted way, I vow he admired my struggle. He ordered Leila to treat me so I would survive.” He fought the memory of Gazir’s mocking laughter. “On the days he met with visiting dignitaries, he ordered me brought to his chambers, chained like an animal. He gloated. Called me the pale skinned English beast. Hauled me around by my chains and showed me off like a prized trophy.”

  “How cruel!”

  Fane struggled to shut out Rexana’s pity, and his own suppressed rage. “Gazir did not realize Leila and I had learned to communicate. One day, when I was strong enough, she would help me escape. I would take her with me, so she would be free from Gazir.”

  “Word by word, she taught me Arabic. While she treated my scarred body, she kept my mind focused on survival. Soon, I understood what my prison guards were saying. And, I understood the conversations between Gazir and his peers.”

  Rexana smiled. “An advantage, for a spy.”

  He nodded. “One day, I heard my guards talking about a Christian king’s boats being sighted near Acre. I wept with relief. Yet, I also realized I could best serve my king from within the dungeon. I wrote down what I heard on scraps of parchment Leila smuggled beneath her veil. She delivered these to secret messengers who in turn took the information to the crusaders. Many of Gazir’s subjects, I learned, despised him.” Fane pointed to Rexana’s hand. “The sapphire ring you wear was Leila’s. She used it to identify herself to her messengers.”

  Rexana turned the gleaming ring on her finger. “I see.”

  “When King Richard’s forces advanced on Acre,” he continued, “my position became very dangerous. Gazir threatened to cut off my head and deliver it to the king as proof the crusaders would never win. Gazir summoned his armies to support Saladin, and plotted an attack. Each time Leila left to deliver a message, I feared for her life. I knew if she were caught, she would die a horrible death. We agreed I must escape.

  “One night, she drugged the guards and unlocked my cell. She helped me don eastern robes, then led me through the servants’ passages. I could hardly walk, but she urged me on. We hurried into the city. There, we heard the shouts of alarm.”

  He swallowed, the desperation of that night pulsing afresh inside him. “We ran through the market into the streets. We could not stop or we would die. Leila took me to the house of one of her contacts. We hid in a tiny, secret room under the floor for two days, until Gazir recalled his guards from the city.” He exhaled. “Escaping the dungeon was a tremendous moment in my life, but I was also scared beyond reason. Gazir could still find us. He would not be merciful. Leila . . . understood.”

  Rexana’s lashes flicked down. “You mean, you coupled.”

  Fane stared down at the rock. He’d never told anyone what had happened between him and Leila. Yet Rexana, of all people, deserved to know. He prayed she wouldn’t loathe him.

  “She begged me to lie with her. I will not speak false, Rexana. I desired her. I had not been with a woman in months, and I owed her my life. Would you not have done the same, if you thought you might not live one more day?”

  To his relief, Rexana’s gaze didn’t harden with disgust. She swallowed and looked out across the water, as though deciding what to make of his words.

  “We coupled only once. ’Twas not love.” He caught her fingers, picking at a ridge of stone. “’Twas not at all what I shared with you.”

  A breath shivered from her. “I will try to believe you.”

  “’Tis the truth.”

  “Please, tell me the rest.”

  He squeezed her hand, forced himself to tell the story to its wretched end. “At dark, Leila and I left for the city gates. Halfway there, she handed me her ring and a dagger she had stolen—the jeweled one I still use—and told me where to find a horse. She told me to ride to my king, for she would come at daw
n. I tried to stop her from returning to Gazir’s castle, but she refused to listen.” He paused, his throat raw. “She kissed me, then ran into the darkness. That was the last time I saw her alive.”

  “Gazir found her,” Rexana said, her words hushed.

  Fane nodded. “When she did not appear the next day, I asked to speak with the king. He had received my missives and knew of the threat Gazir posed. He assigned me an army of knights and we thundered into the city. We besieged the fortress. In the main hall, I found Gazir holding a knife to Leila’s neck. She had freed the other courtesans and poisoned his wine before trying to flee, but he had caught her. He knew that she had freed me.”

  A violent tremor tore through Fane’s body. “I tried to save her. I could not stop him. He slit her throat.” His voice shook. “I cut his head from his shoulders.”

  Rexana touched his arm. “Fane.”

  Bitterness tore through him. “I held her as she died. She made not a sound. She smiled up at me as her life’s blood ran onto the tiled floor, and the light left her eyes.”

  He didn’t realize Rexana had snuggled against him until he felt her hand curling around his neck. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  Drawing her close, he said, “As am I.”

  “You must not blame yourself for her death. Leila made the choice to return to Gazir’s castle.”

  He blinked wetness from his eyes and kissed her hair.

  “She acted of her own will.”

  “True.” Fane breathed in Rexana’s scent, the essence of his life now. Locking his heart against the pain of the past, he caressed her satiny arm. “In the same way, love, you cannot be responsible for your brother’s deeds.”

  Rexana stared at him, then pulled out of his embrace. Before Fane could tug her back, she dove into the water with the barest splash.

  She drifted to the surface, and he scowled down at her. “Why did you run away?”

  She blew a stream of bubbles. “I wished for another swim, ’tis all. I know we will begin the journey back to Tangston soon.” Crooking a finger, she murmured, “Will you join me?”

  Fane sighed. She avoided giving him an honest answer. Yet, no matter how she felt about her brother, she couldn’t escape the truth. Her destiny, and Rudd’s, forged separate paths.