Connie Mason (16 page)

“Fly for me, sweet Raven.”

He lowered his head to her breasts, sucking her nipples through her shift as his fingers continued his loving torment below. With his free hand he released the tapes holding her shift together and spread the edges wide, revealing the rigid peaks of her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked vigorously.

Raven was flying so high she feared she would never return to earth. Suddenly his mouth clamped down hard upon her nipple, alternately flaying her with his tongue and soothing her tenderly. When he stopped she wanted to cry out in protest. Then he raised his head and found her mouth, slanting it over hers, his tongue forcing entrance between her teeth.

His taste and scent made her breath catch and falter. She savored him on her tongue, absorbed him through her pores as he drew her further into his web of seduction. Her climax came swiftly and unexpectedly. The increasing urgency of his fingers working within her, combined with his soul-destroying kisses, released a violent reaction inside her. She shattered and cried out, clinging to Drake’s shoulders as she tumbled headlong into an abyss of sensual pleasure. She felt overwhelmed, possessed, dominated.

Awareness returned slowly. Raven felt Drake’s hips grinding against hers, felt the hard ridge of his sex prodding her stomach, and the realization of what she had just allowed to happen was like a dash of cold water. When he positioned her for his entry, she protested violently.

“Nay! You cannot come inside me.”

He went very, very still. “You let me pleasure you. Do I not deserve the same consideration? I am burning for you, sweeting. No man has ever wanted a woman as I want you.”

His voice was sexually charged. She felt herself softening, arching against him, but she steeled herself against the temptation of his wicked hands and hot mouth. It was obvious to her how the Black Knight earned his reputation with women. Who could resist him? Drake had been her first lover, so she had nothing to judge him by, but intuitively she knew she would never find another to match him.

There was a very substantial reason Raven did not want Drake to come inside her. She feared he would plant his seed in her. She was married to Waldo, and Drake could not marry her even if he wanted to. Her child, should there be one, would legally belong to Waldo, and she could not bear that.

His voice was ragged. “Raven . . . let me inside.”

“I cannot, Drake, truly,” Raven said on a sob.

With a groan, Drake shifted his weight off her. His muted curses hinted at his frustration, his discomfort, but she made herself deaf to them.

“Another time, Raven,” Drake promised. “Soon,” he added, in a voice ripe with promise.

Damn her, Drake thought as he turned away from her. Damn her for her beauty and for her stubbornness. And damn himself for not taking her when he wanted her so desperately.

Raven scooted as far as she could against the wall, unable to relax until she heard the even cadence of Drake’s breathing.
Even after he had fallen asleep she was still too keyed up to rest. She had been dreaming of pleasant things, sinful things, then she had awakened suddenly to find Drake’s hands upon her. He had known exactly how to make her body fly, and like a puppet on a string, she had obliged him. Why could she not hate him? He had more than earned her contempt, yet hatred for the Black Knight had found no lasting place in her heart.

With effort, Raven turned her thoughts from the man sleeping beside her. The echo of thunder rolling across the heavens and the sound of pounding rain finally lulled her to sleep.

The worst of the storm had passed when Raven awoke the following morning. The place beside her was empty, and for some reason that bothered her. She had awakened several times during the night and each time was comforted to find Drake curled around her, his warmth keeping the chill at bay.

The sound of voices outside in the hall lured Raven from bed. She rose and dressed hastily, eager to learn the cause of the commotion. Suddenly the doors of the hall were flung open, admitting a wide swath of light. A veritable army of men and women swept inside. Raven stepped from the alcove to greet them.

“We are from the village, milady,” a spokesman for the group ventured. “Lord Drake instructed us in our duties before he left for Bidewell to hire a stonemason and laborers. ’Tis happy we are to see the lord of the castle in residence.”

“Welcome,” Raven said, smiling. “I am Lady Raven. As you can see, the hall has accumulated years of dirt and neglect. ’Tis the same wherever you look.”

“Aye, we are well aware of the passage of time since our last lord occupied Windhurst. My name is Balder, milady.”

“Since you know what needs to done, Balder, you may
direct the others.” She scanned the round peasant faces beaming at her and asked, “Is there a cook among your numbers?”

A plump matron of middle years stepped forward. “Aye, milady. I am Margot, the best cook in the village,” she said with a hint of pride. She pulled a pretty young girl forward. “And this is Gilda, my daughter. Mayhap you can use her as your maid.”

Raven did not know if Drake wanted her to have a maid, so she merely thanked Margot and said she would speak with Gilda later concerning her duties. “Meanwhile, Margot, please inspect the kitchen and let Balder know what is needed to set it to rights. Lord Drake will return soon with workers to make the necessary repairs.”

Balder, apparently taking his position seriously, sent the servants about their assigned chores. They bobbed clumsily and scurried off. Balder followed close on their heels.

“Ah, there you are, Lady Raven.”

Raven greeted Sir John with a smile. “Good morrow, Sir John.”

“Good morrow, my lady. Lord Drake rode to Bideford before you awakened. I am to leave myself within the hour.”

“And your errand?” Raven asked curiously.

“To recruit mercenaries and knights for Lord Drake’s army.”

“I understand,” Raven replied, aware of Drake’s need for more men. He expected Waldo to attack Windhurst soon, and his own small army was no match for the one Waldo would bring with him. She prayed Waldo would not come until Drake was ready for him.

“Aye. ’Tis no great task. Men consider it a privilege to fight under the Black Knight’s banner. In less than a month I shall return with enough skilled warriors to meet the Black Knight’s needs.”

Drake returned from Bideford late that evening with a stonemason and an army of laborers. They came in two sturdy
farm wagons he had purchased, one of them filled them with tools, flour, and other staples; ale; and materials he thought might be of use to Raven.

The following days were busy ones for Raven. She was quite happy overseeing the refurbishing of the hall, solar, and sleeping chambers. Her own rooms pleased her greatly once all the soot and grime had been scrubbed away. Within two days of their arrival, furnishings and amenities began arriving on a daily basis. Bedsteads with rope springs and thick feather mattresses; pots, pans, and utensils for cooking and baking; a big brass tub for bathing; bed linens and everything else needed for their comfort.

Work began on the walls immediately. Carpenters set to work fashioning benches, tables, and chairs for the hall and sleeping chambers. Not a day passed without craftsmen arriving at the keep to offer their services or sell their wares.

At the end of two weeks a subtle change had begun to take place in the hall. Fresh, sweet rushes now covered the floors, banishing the foul odor that had sickened Raven. The walls had been whitewashed and hung with colorful tapestries. Newly hewn tables and benches gleamed with polish, and the hearth gave off sweet-smelling smoke. The kitchen had been hastily restored and was putting out simple but tasty meals under Margot’s supervision. Raven was pleased with the progress and began to look upon Windhurst favorably.

Raven saw little of Drake during those hectic days. He slept in the north tower room, far removed from the solar, and was gone most of the day directing the laborers and training with his men in the tiltyard. Sometimes, when they were in the same room together, she felt his heated gaze on her and a strange prickling sensation crept up her neck. She was never, at any time, unaware of him, and knew he felt the
same attraction that was constantly pulling them toward a collision course.

One bright morning Raven walked to the cliff’s edge to watch the waves pounding against the shore. She loved the way plumes of white spray flew up from the rocks below, and the deafening sound the waves created. She had never seen the sea before, and it mesmerized her.

As the days passed Raven felt a subtle change in the servants’ regard for her. She realized that her position in the keep and her relationship to Drake had never been clearly defined, and that some of the younger maids looked upon her as a rival for Drake’s affection. Though Raven had accepted Gilda as her maidservant, the attractive girl made no secret of her desire for Drake.

One sunny morning Raven asked Gilda to gather the soiled bed linen from her chamber, wash it, and hang it out to dry. Gilda gave her a hostile glance, blatantly ignoring Raven’s request.

“Gilda, did you hear me?” Raven repeated her request and was rewarded with an indifferent shrug.

Gilda gave Raven a condescending glare. “I do not have to obey you. You are not the lady of the castle. I take my orders from Lord Drake. You are neither his wife nor his whore.”

Aghast, Raven stared at Gilda. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,
milady
I know Lord Drake does not want you in his bed, for you sleep alone in the solar. I know not the manner of your relationship, but I assure you,
milady
, Lord Drake does
not
sleep alone.”

She preened for Raven’s benefit, thrusting out her impressive bosom. “His lordship is a lusty man,” Gilda confided. She turned away, then whirled around to throw a final barb at Raven. “If you wish your laundry done, milady, do it yourself.”

Raven had never been so humiliated, and she placed the blame on Drake. The lord of the castle had not officially placed her in charge of the household. She had taken it
upon herself to see that the keep ran smoothly. She felt she could do no less, for she owed him much. Protecting her from Waldo was no easy task, and by so doing Drake placed his own life in jeopardy.

Her thoughts were so disturbing that she failed to see Drake enter the hall.

“What troubles you, my lady?”

Raven started violently. “Drake, you startled me.”

“ ’Tis no wonder. You were leagues away.” His handsome brow furrowed. “What troubles you?”

Just then Gilda entered the hall, saw Drake, and sidled up to him, her breasts thrust out in flagrant invitation. “Ale, my lord?”

“Nay, Gilda, my thanks.”

Gilda’s long, dark lashes fluttered, her smoldering invitation anything but subtle. Hips swaying, she moved away, but not so far that she could not still see Drake.

“I do not appreciate being treated disrespectfully by your doxy,” Raven said in a hiss. “I know I have no status in your household, but flaunting Gilda is beyond too much.”

Drake’s eyes widened and he turned his head to stare at Gilda. Gilda gave him a heated look and boldly tugged the neckline of her bodice down another notch.

“We must talk, Drake,” Raven said, embarrassed by Gilda’s blatant display.

“It never occurred to me that you would be treated with anything but the utmost courtesy,” Drake said, scowling. “I will speak with the servants.”

Raven saw Gilda watching them and turned away. “We cannot talk here. Privacy is impossible in the hall.” She grasped his hand. “Come with me to the solar. No one will disturb us there.”

Drake followed her up the narrow stone staircase without protest. Raven could feel Gilda’s venomous gaze flaying her but she did not care. What she had to say to Drake was for
his ears alone. She entered the solar, closed the heavy door, and leaned against it, staring accusingly at him.

“You are misinformed. I have taken no woman to my bed since arriving at Windhurst,” he insisted.

Raven stiffened. “Gilda said—”

“She lies. Why would you believe Gilda?” He appeared puzzled, and Raven felt a pang of guilt.

“You are a man, Drake. I never expected you to live a celibate life.”

He closed the space between them and framed her face in his big hands, making her sharply aware of his power and her fragility. “Nor do I intend to, Raven.”

Then his mouth was on hers, hot and hard and demanding. Raven did not pull away, though she knew she should. She was a married woman—married to a man she feared and hated. Drake’s tongue slid smoothly inside her mouth, stroking in and out repeatedly. A wet warmth gathered between her thighs, a forbidden heat. In a moment of clarity she realized she must stop this before it was too late, but instead she gripped his muscular arms and returned his kiss.

“What did you wish to talk about?” he whispered against her lips.

She clung to him. She could not think. “Drake.”

His hands left her face and slid down her body, lightly caressing, soothing, coaxing. “What? Tell me.”

“I . . . we . . .”

His hands circled around to her buttocks, gripping them, separating them, finding her feminine heat through her clothing. Suddenly light-headed, Raven shuddered, wanting him so very badly. His hands on her were arousing, exciting, driving her mad with need. He continued to caress her feminine folds through her clothes, until her knees began to buckle and she realized her will to resist the Black Knight had fled.

Desperately Raven clung to his shoulders until her breath came in choking gasps and she was trembling like a leaf.

Abruptly he tore his mouth from hers and stared at her, as if trying to read her thoughts. Then he smiled. She exhaled a strangled breath when he gripped her arms and propelled her toward her bedchamber. She stumbled. He swept her into his arms and carried her through the open door. Then he set her on her feet, slammed the door, and turned the key in the lock. He was still smiling as he crowded her backward toward the bed.

The husky timbre of his voice warned her that there was no turning back this time. “ ’Tis time, sweet Raven. I gave you ample warning.”