A Kiss in the Night (3 page)

She felt a tingling rush along the nerves of her arms and a tightening in the tips of her breasts, a hot swelling deep inside. She went very still as he watched her. Her shock was so virginal, he asked huskily as his lips grazed hers, "You handle like a virgin, my witch-child. Tell me you're not."

The question made her panic. She closed her eyes and tried to shake her head.

"Are you?" he asked again as he let his lips graze her mouth, gently biting her lower lip. Their breath mingled, and he closed his eyes, lost in the incredible sweetness of her scent. "Or were you sent by the heavens as an undeserved reward for my questionable service?"

She gasped with the shivers this caused. "Aye," she said in a whisper, "I was sent to you just as you were to me. You saved my life and I owe it to you now." She intended no melodrama; she meant every word. "I surrender my will; this humble gift is yours."

He ignored the questions posed by the girl's perfect courtly French. He did not want to know who she was or how she came to be condemned by the church. He didn't want to know anything, not the alchemy that changed brass to gold, nor the rhyme or reason of the rotations of the heavenly bodies. He wanted only to sink his flesh in the sweet mercy of hers...

Desire had changed her features; her pale skin colored with heated anticipation, and he knew her pulse raced as fast as his. He forgot the question, forgot everything but the demanding immediacy of their joining. He brought his mouth down hard.

All panic exploded in a fiery burst as the kiss molded his lips to hers with a barely restrained force. Yet the lingering trace of his violence melted the instant he felt the exquisite softness of her mouth. One taste and it changed. He groaned deep in his throat as he brought her head back farther to drink deeper.

The hunger of his passion swept into her body and through her veins, more real, more urgent, than the blood flowing there. She felt the intrusion of his tongue and suffered the briefest moment of confusion and fear, until his tongue slid with tantalizing slowness over hers. She couldn't think or breathe or know anything past the enticing tease of his kiss, a feeling of melting into a shimmering pool of heat and need.

His warm, callused hand swept over her shoulder and pulled off the remaining strap of her tunic as he breathed deeply of her scent. "My God, you are soft…" Cool air grazed her skin before his hand slid with unconcealed impatience over her shoulder and side to cup the high, full breast. She gasped as his large, warm palm soothed and stroked, massaging erotically, while catching her tiny gasps in his lips as he kissed her again. The slow thud of her heart dropped to her loins and made her arch her back as she tore her mouth from his with an anguished cry.

He caught the sound in his mouth, "You taste like the heavens, sweeter than life itself. I am lost. Lost…"

She opened her eyes with a question, only to find his attention driven by a force far beyond words or vision. His touch felt like warm licks of fire, feeding trembling shivers through her, soothing them, yet only to spark them anew. 'Twas a madness she could never have imagined before and she closed her eyes, dazed by the serums heating up in her body that made her want to writhe and squirm and cling to him. His warm lips began teasing her, beneath her ear and along her neck. Chills rushed from the spot, gathering below in a hot knot of sensation.

His firm lips came to her bare breasts. The shock of it went through her like a lightning bolt and she tensed with the unexpectedness of this action. He laved the swell until he reached the tip, circling it with a building swirl of wetness. He drew softly, then more swiftly, before moving on to the next waiting orb. Shivers exploded in rushes between her legs and she gasped for air as though her lungs were starving. She instinctively arched her back and her breasts rose to fit tighter against his lips.

A millennium had passed before he could think of anything but the ferocious need to bury his sex in this bewitching wild creature. His flesh trembled with the feel of her small body yielding, then tensing, then yielding again as he answered her cries and brought his mouth back to hers with a kiss that brushed his soul.

He lifted her thin skirt. He twisted, then turned her undergarments until he finally ripped them from her. His hand fitted over her flat stomach, then lower…

The hot, tight ball in her loins seemed to leap at his touch, and without realizing it, her thighs parted as his warm fingers slipped over her sex. Bursts of pleasure answered the stroke of his hand. She felt her sex swell until she became wild and supple beneath him. She could tell that he could not wait. His hands slid under her buttocks, lifting her. Tingling anticipation rose in quivers, falling, then rising again as his smooth sex slid over hers again. She didn't know she was moaning, until the sound abruptly stopped as she felt a stab of pain.

He stopped instantly and closed his eyes as an unknown pleasure washed over him in hot waves. She was so small and hot and tight. "No, don't move," he said in answer to her fear, opening his eyes to peer into her closed ones. "Look at me, love." She did. "Look at the face of the man you will remember forever. Aye, forever, love. We are joined forever." His warm hand smoothed the hair from her forehead, his touch gentle, atoning. "I have not yet spoken your name, nor you, mine, and yet you will belong to me forever.”

Those words echoed in her mind. Forever. She understood the magnitude of them only partially, though she knew it was as certain and unalterable as the sun rising tomorrow. For Mary had sent him. And for a long moment as he held still and unmoving inside her, their gazes locked with a mystical understanding that bound each to the other forever.

Strange dreams visited her as she slept nestled against his huge, warm body on the forest floor. His male hips fitted tightly against her buttocks, his arm wrapped protectively around her form. She dreamt of those heated tremors, his lips on her neck, gently sucking teasing. His hand slipped along the dramatic curve of her waist, over her hips and back again before cupping her breasts. She sighed, languidly arching her back to push her breasts into his warm palm. Her nipples grew hard and tight as he gently massaged them, over and over before his hand slipped over her flat stomach to nestle between her legs.

She came full awake. Her nerves went wild. Small pants and gasps escaped her lips as the hot, tight ball grew between her legs. Hotter as she felt the smooth stroke of his sex, the tingling warmth of his breath on her neck as he slipped inside of her. The erotic movement of their entwined bodies grew faster and faster until hot spasms of pleasure washed through her and she felt his huge body stiffen dramatically, and she was sinking, sinking into the darkness of sleep.

At first she only dipped below the surface of sleep, skimming along there like a fish in shallow water. She dreamt of the stars above, edged by the uppermost spikes of trees and suspended within the reach of her hand. A breeze rustled through the nightscape, carrying a winged version of Mary smiling down at her sleeping form. Mary was trying to convey mat this man was not sent to her, but that she had been sent to him. She could not reason why this mattered, but then nothing mattered, not heaven nor earth as she swam down deeper and deeper, nuzzling her nose to the sweet-scented earth and into the unending waters.

Lips brushed hers. Heated whispers rose in the night. "The night has bound us forever. Just as you shall never forget me, I fear that I, too, shall never forget you." More whispered words, a warm caress. She nuzzled closer to the earth as the warmth left her, "Good-bye, my sweet virgin witch."

A woman dressed in black appeared before her then. Linness stared in surprise. The woman sat stiffly on a wooden chair surrounded by darkness. Her small, olive-colored hands sat on her lap, and that was all Linness could see of her. She wore a black dress. Black Italian lace covered her dark hair A veil covered her face.

Time seemed to stop as Linness stared at the mysterious creature dressed in black. She knew without understanding that this mysterious woman was the most important person in her life. She did not know how or why. She struggled to make sense of the strange vision, but it was fading. Gray edged the perimeters of her vision until it strained the center. Then she was gone...

The sun rose and she turned in protest, but the warm pulse of its heat finally roused her from the peaceful slumber. She opened her eyes, staring up into a piece of the blue sky above the treetops. Hunger gnawed at her and yet she felt so warm and blissful, as if she had slept a fortnight.

Dreamily she sat up and looked around her unfamiliar surroundings. The previous day's events came to her in a rush. Her gray eyes flew about the quiet forest floor. He was gone as if he never existed.

As they had lain in each other's arms after the first time he washed her soul with that dark and deep and sweet pleasure, she had asked, "Tell me your name?"

“
Paxton. . ."

Paxton. Paxton. Paxton.
She sang his name like a spell or incantation—the man who had taught her love on one magical night, who had washed her body in pleasure and carried her soaring through the heavens.
Paxton…

Gone as if he never was, like a cherished memory or a vivid dream, he would live only in her heart and mind now. She tried to tell herself it was enough, one night was enough, but she understood the one night would cost a lifetime of longing. A lifetime…

She rose shakily to her feet and she saw her tunic laid across a stone. She moved to it, her silver eyes darting around the forest as if he might reemerge. She bent down and retrieved it, lifting it over her head and straightening it to cover her nakedness. She spent several anxious minutes righting the ripped strap before she saw it.

It was carved on the tree trunk behind the place where she had slept. She slowly approached the spot. A trembling hand reached to follow the lines he had carved.

A single star placed over a heart

Star-crossed lovers, never to see each other again and yet never to be forgotten. As long as she lived, his would be the face she saw each night as she lav down to sleep, and the face swimming through consciousness in the mystical hours of morning that were neither sleep nor wakefulness.

A small notch had been carved in the tree. A gold necklace hung from it. She slowly picked it up. On the chain hung a ring. A bright emerald stone surrounded by diamonds on a thick gold band. She stared at the gift, more precious than the king's treasure box. It was all she had left of him, all she would ever have of him. The father of her child.

She slipped the necklace around her neck. Then she stood there, tracing the heart beneath the star as his words echoed through her soul. ...
you will belong to me forever…

Finally she forced herself away. A new day had started and she had to decide what to do. She could never go back to her village or her home. The church would condemn her again immediately But where could she go? What could she do? Where would she get shelter for herself and, praise Mary, her child, should she be so blessed?

She needed to see an omen of where she should go and what she should do. Standing very still, she searched the forest for the divine signal. Minutes gathered. Nothing happened.

She sat down. These things, she knew, sometimes took time. There was nothing to be heard but a gentle wind, the soft drone of heather bees, the trill of two skylarks against the trickle of the stream.

A movement in the forest caught her gaze. Sunlight streamed through two tall trees in the forest, their branches reaching up and entwined. A beautiful doe and her fawn walked below the entwined branches.

A good omen if ever there was one!

The enchanting sight was surely meant to assure Mary would be watching over her and guiding what was to happen to her. After all, Mary had saved her from death. Mary had answered her secret wish and sent her Paxton.

She would just start walking. Which way, though?

She looked for another sign. A sparrow lifted from a tree and headed west. She smiled as she turned toward the west, her gaze still fixed on the little bird. He flew up and back around toward the south.

She stopped. The south was a good direction too…

Chapter Two

Sunlight glinted from the round towers of the Chateau Gaillard, sparkling over the wide river that rushed through the valley. The chateau had been built from a castle's remains, and still showed many elements of the ancient castle. The stone structure rose at the southern end of the township of Gaillard, and Paxton, accompanied by two of his knights, rode at full speed through the outlying village to the gatehouse.

The chateau was an enormous structure, as large as Notre Dame in Paris and completely enclosed by a deep freshwater moat made by the river at its side. The wide moat circled the outer bailey, which was a three-story stone wall topped by battlements connected by wall walks. Surrounding the chateau were the domestic buildings: the knights' barracks and servants' building, the stables, piggery, garden, and exercise yard. There was a lesser bailey that enclosed the castle keep, its towers and fore building.

The famous Gaillard vineyards stretched up and over the hillsides in every direction. The barley, oat, and wheat fields reached from the north all the way to the valley's end. Thickly forested mountains enclosed the whole. This day was made of blue skies and bright sunlight, and the Gaillard valley, its castle, and the wealth of its rich farmland stole Paxton's breath. The profound beauty of his land would always strike him.