Connie Mason (17 page)

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating his dark face. His expression was ruthless and grimly determined, overwhelming in its intensity. Though she had resisted his masculine appeal thus far, she had always known this day would come. It mattered not that she was a married woman. The church did not consider a marriage legal until it was consummated, and Waldo had not bedded her. She had made certain of that.

“Do not think, Raven,” Drake said, as if aware of her thoughts. “This was meant to be. Patience is a virtue I lack.”

He drew his tunic over his head and tossed it aside. Then he loosened the ties on his hose, and his manhood burst free. She stared at him, at the incredible length and hardness of him. She had felt his male part inside her but had never seen it in the light of day. He was massive. She saw the veins along the sides throbbing and noted a tiny drop of fluid clinging to the purplish tip.

Her cheeks flamed as he pulled off his hose and tossed them beside his tunic. She caught her breath. He was magnificent. Tall, powerfully built, and virile, he was everything she knew he would be, everything she had dreamed about.

Abruptly his hands moved to the neat braids she had
plaited that morning and wound around her head. “I want your hair down when I make love to you.”

She nodded and began pulling wooden pins out of her hair. When her braids hung down her back, Drake began to unravel them, spreading the silken strands out with his fingers until they fell in shimmering chestnut waves down her back.

Drake drew her hair aside and kissed her nape. “I love your hair,” he murmured huskily. “When you were a child I thought it hideous. I must have been blind.”

Raven recalled how Drake had teased her about the color of her hair, calling her Carrot Top and other unseemly names. But she had not cared, for she had loved Drake then, with the kind of love only a child was capable of giving.

“Take off your clothes. His voice sounded raw, urgent. “I want you, sweet Raven. Now. It will be different this time. There will be no pain, and I will take time to please you.”

Raven swallowed a smile. Did he not know he had pleased her the first time despite the initial pain? Slowly, watching his expression change from appreciation to fierce need, she began to undress. When she moved too slowly to suit him, he grasped the neckline of her chemise.

“Nay. Patience, my lord. I cannot afford to lose a piece of clothing when I have so few.”

“I will replace it with a dozen others.” Then he tore it in half, tossing the pieces aside with a growl of impatience.

Raven quailed beneath his fierce perusal. She might have turned and run had he not gripped her arms and pulled her roughly against him. Breast to breast, hip to hip, his heat scorched her and left her wanting. When she felt his staff throbbing against her, she cried out her own need.

“I cannot wait!” Shocked by her outburst, she turned bright red.

“Ah, sweet Raven, how your impatience pleases me. We will go slowly, my lady. I want to learn all your secrets.” Then he bore her backward onto the bed.

Raven’s mind ceased functioning. His gaze was pure fire, flaying her everywhere it touched. He cupped her breast. His mouth found her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, hard, wringing a cry from her. Her hands were on his shoulders, his back, his thighs. His hair-roughened skin affected her strongly, like an aphrodisiac. His touch, his taste, his scent, all combined to bring her the kind of greedy pleasure she had no right to claim. Not with this man, who was neither her betrothed nor her husband.

She trembled violently beneath the kisses raining down on her body. His mouth was hot, his tongue hard, firm, every flick sending unspeakable delight surging through her. She was losing control. She felt him sliding lower on her body and feared he would not stop until he reached . . .

“Drake!”

He knelt between her outstretched thighs and looked up at her when she screamed his name. His eyes flashed silver and he gave her a dazzling smile. Then he bent his head and stared at her intimate flesh as if she were a feast he could not wait to devour. She nearly lost control as his talented fingertips stroked up her inner thighs to the lips of her sex, spreading them for his pleasure.

Then he kissed her there.

Raven could not breathe, could not think. “Please.” She did not know such things were permissible, much less wonderfully arousing.

He hesitated, looking up at her. “Shall I continue?”

“Nay . . . aye . . . I know not! ’Tis sinful.”

“Aye,” Drake agreed. “Deliciously sinful. Tell me, Raven, do you want me to stop?”

She could feel his hot breath against the tender folds of her womanhood and feared she would die if he stopped now. “Nay, do not stop. Take this to the end.”

He lowered his head and slid his tongue over her wet, swollen flesh. She tried to embrace him and realized their
fingers were entwined and her hands imprisoned at her sides. His tongue flicked over a place so sensitive it wrung a cry from her. Stunned, she arched violently upward. He freed her hands and they immediately fell to his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh.

A joyous emotion bubbled up inside her. It was strong, so powerful it was like a volcano that soon must erupt. And then it did.

A knight fights with courage
.

Drake rose up on his elbows and stared at Raven. Her face was flushed, her breath coming fast and harsh as she slowly descended from passion’s towering heights. He’d never imagined he could experience pleasure from giving to another while denying himself, but Raven had just proved otherwise. He was still rigid and swollen, still wanting, but he felt her satisfaction as keenly as she did.

She opened her eyes; he smiled at her. She returned his smile, reaching up to caress his cheek. Drake grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each finger.

“Is it permissible to enjoy what you just did to me?” she asked shyly.

Her naïveté was refreshing. “Anything we do in bed is permissible. As long as we both enjoy it.”

She glanced down at his swollen staff and her eyes widened. “There was no pleasure in it for you.”

“You are wrong, my love. I absorbed your pleasure and savored it as my own.”

She grasped his hips and urged him down upon her. “Come inside me, Drake. Let me absorb your pleasure.”

God’s blood!
He had never known such a woman existed. He spread her thighs and stared raptly at the swollen lips of her sex. He moaned and slid himself over her slick folds several times, until she shuddered and moved her hips restlessly beneath him. His eyes darkened with lust as he recalled how tightly she had cradled him the first time he had loved her. Then slowly, holding himself in rigid control, he pushed himself inside her.

Eyes closed, jaw set, he went deeper. Nothing had ever felt so right, so perfect. She was tight, so tight . . . so hot. The walls of her sex clasped him lovingly, as if God had fashioned her exclusively for him. He moved slowly so as not to hurt her, and was surprised when she grasped his buttocks, urging him deeper, harder. Her enthusiastic response, coming close on the heels of her previous climax, so shocked him that he went utterly still.

Her fingers dug into his flesh. “Nay! Do not stop!”

“Oh, sweet lady, never fear. I could not stop were the earth to open up and swallow me.”

He flexed his hips and drove deeply, wetly into her. Wanting, needing more, he lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She thrashed beneath him, moaning his name. He felt her shudder, felt her sheath contract around him, felt tiny explosions erupting inside her. Then he lost the ability to think as he rocked forcefully against her, driving them both to completion. He threw back his head, opened his mouth, and roared, spilling his seed as a brilliant shower of fire and sparks ripped through him. His heart was pounding so loudly he did not hear Raven shout his name, or feel her nails digging into his shoulders.

Drake did not want to move. He wanted to stay inside her body until he grew hard enough to take her again. He rested his head against her breasts, her ragged breathing mingling with his. When he found the strength to move, he pulled out and flopped down beside her. Though his eyes were closed he felt her gaze upon him. He raised himself up on his elbows and kissed the tip of her nose.

“I want to love you again. And yet again. The rest of the day and all through the night.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Is that possible?”

His eyes gleamed with promise. “Very possible.” He grasped her hand and brought it to his loins, making her aware that
his passion had been temporarily slaked, not satisfied. Her fingers closed around his erection, as if to test his readiness for herself.

“Can it not wait? I really do want to talk to you.”

He sat up, drawing up one knee and resting his arms upon it. “Is this important?”

“I suppose I must consider myself your leman now.”

Drake wondered where in God’s name the conversation was going. He was not altogether certain he was going to like where it was headed. “Is that such a bad thing? We just proved we are compatible. God’s blood, Raven, do you know how very much you please me?”

“You please me, too, Drake, but that will matter little to Waldo.”

Drake’s face hardened. “Must we talk about my brother?”

“He is my husband. He will come for me, you know. The castle is ill prepared for a siege, should it come to that.” She took a gulp of air. “Mayhap I should return to Waldo and demand an annulment.”

Drake grasped her shoulders, giving her a none-too-gentle shake. He could not believe what he was hearing. “Are you mad? He will kill you, and well you know it.”

“He will kill
you
if he catches you. I dragged you into my affairs against your will. I do not want your death on my conscience.”

“You did not drag me into this, Raven: I entered of my own free will. This is my penance for ruining you on your wedding night.”

“ ’Tis not the wedding night I would have chosen, but neither was bedding Waldo. Mayhap you did me a favor. You provided me with a way to escape a man I detest. I am not Waldo’s wife,” she said fiercely. “Our marriage was never consummated, and I will kill myself before I let him touch me.”

Drake grasped her shoulders, dragging her against him. “I will not let him have you.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Why do you say that, Drake? You do not like me. When I begged for your help at Chirk, you denied me. I am naught but a penance you have imposed upon yourself.”

He stared into her eyes; they were the color of the pastures surrounding Windhurst. “Perhaps I chose the wrong words. As for the past, it has no place now in our lives. What happened at Chirk when we were children no longer matters.”

“It matters to me. Will you listen to me now, with an open mind? I swear upon the graves of my parents that I will speak naught but the truth.”

“Aye, have your say,” Drake said. If it would ease her mind, he was willing to listen, though in truth his memories of that time were vague. He had harbored a grudge against Raven all these years, not even realizing it no longer mattered. Except for the fact that Daria had died before her time, he would not think of it at all.

Raven sent him a look that spoke eloquently of her need to be exonerated in Drake’s eyes. She took a deep breath and began.

“I loved my sister very much. At times she was fanciful and flighty, but mostly she was sweet and obedient. She may have fancied herself in love with you, but she would have never run off to elope. She wanted to be Waldo’s countess.”

“Are you saying Daria cared naught for me?” Drake asked harshly.

“Nay. I am merely telling you the truth. Daria did not like the careless way in which Waldo treated her, and she wanted to make him jealous so he would pay more attention to her. She was young, Drake; you cannot blame her. She was very fond of you, but she took her betrothal vows seriously.”

“How did your father learn of our plans to elope if you did not tell him?”

“Daria confided in me, but I did not tell Father. She assured me she knew what she was doing, that becoming a countess was all she ever wanted. Wedding a penniless lad who claimed neither title nor land was not in her plans for her future. She took advantage of your love, Drake. I learned later that she told her maid about the elopement, aware that the girl would run to Father with the tale. I did not betray you, Drake, though I knew what you planned was folly.”

Drake mulled over Raven’s words and recognized them for the truth. Daria’s fickleness hurt but no longer wounded. He had been young, and Daria was his first love. He had aimed high and been knocked down, but life had gone on and he had prospered. There was one thing he could not forget, however: Daria’s early death.

“Think you Waldo is responsible for Daria’s death?”

“I am sure of it!” Raven said fiercely. “She was strong and healthy when she left Chirk as Waldo’s wife. She never complained of a stomach ailment. I do not know how or why, but I firmly believe Waldo is responsible for my sister’s death. So many deaths.” She sighed. “My parents. My betrothed. Waldo’s mother, then his father. Daria’s death followed soon afterward.”