Then Gavin’s arms were around her, pulling
her down to lie against his hard body.
“It’s over,” he said, pushing her loose hair
off her face. “Everyone who was sick has recovered. With Mauger’s
death the weather has cleared and, whether it be the power of
bright sunshine or the breaking of Mauger’s enchantment I do not
know, but tempers are more pleasant and all hearts more cheerful
than they have been since I returned home. I saw these changes
happening even as I carried you from the battlements to this room
after you fainted.”
“You are well again? Truly?” She touched him
to be sure. “My lord, you are unclothed.”
“So are you.” He let his hand rest on her
bare shoulder.
“This is most unseemly,” she said, but she
made no attempt to move away from him.
“It is highly improper behavior for a noble
born lady.” Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “Reprehensible, in fact.
Shocking. And absolutely delightful.”
“All of that and more,” she said, unable to
hold back the smile that would tell him she did not mind at all
waking to discover herself in his bed.
Gavin lowered his mouth toward hers.
Mirielle’s fingers clenched in the hair on his chest, then her hand
moved up to the nape of his neck, to pull him closer. His lips just
brushed across hers.
“Meow!” Minn leapt onto Gavin’s shoulder, her
sharp claws digging into his skin.
“Stop that!” Gavin grabbed the cat by the
scruff of the neck.
“Don’t hurt her!” Mirielle cried.
“I will not,” he promised. “But neither will
I allow this animal to interfere when I want to make love with
you.” Shifting his hold on the cat to a gentler grip, Gavin rose
from the bed to carry Minn to the door and put her out of the
room.
“I’ve not said that I want to make love with
you, my lord,” Mirielle informed him.
“I will do my best to convert you to my way
of thinking,” he responded, grinning. In the next instant his
expression changed to one of fury. “God’s teeth! That cat is more
slippery than a snake!”
He had not closed the door quickly enough.
Minn, taking advantage of the fact that Gavin had turned his
attention from her to Mirielle, had rushed between Gavin’s legs and
back into the room. With an arrogant flick of her tail the cat
jumped onto the bed, where she took up a position at Mirielle’s
side.
“Out!” Gavin reached for the cat. With claws
unsheathed, Minn slashed at his hand, then disappeared under the
bed.
When Gavin went to his knees to search
beneath the bed, Mirielle rolled over to hang her head downward
over the edge of the mattress so she could see what he was doing to
her beloved pet. She was not unduly worried, for she knew Gavin
liked cats and she had often seen him stop to pet Minn.
“Do be careful, my lord, or she will scratch
you again.” With Gavin’s eyes blazing at her from barely a foot
away, Mirielle suggested, “If you will step into the corridor for a
moment or two, I am sure I can coax Minn to come out from under the
bed. You frightened her; she won’t obey you.”
“I have never known a cat to obey anyone,”
Gavin declared, adding in a fierce voice, “I refuse to be driven
out of my own bedchamber by that animal!”
“Oh, my lord, I can see that you are near to
bursting with indignation!” Mirielle could not stop laughing. It
was so wonderful to feel carefree, wonderful to be with Gavin and
know they were safe at last.
“You can see that, can you?” Gavin clamped an
arm around her and pulled her off the bed and down to the
floor.
Mirielle squealed in surprise, a sound
promptly smothered when Gavin’s mouth crushed hers. She didn’t mind
a bit. She grabbed at his shoulders, holding him tight, giving
herself up to a kiss that drugged and stimulated her at the same
time. His hands tormented her breasts in the most delightful way
and when he abandoned her lips to trail a line of hot kisses along
her chin and down her throat to end at one nipple, she groaned in
pleasure.
Gavin’s body was firm against hers, his
manhood against her thigh offering solid proof that they had
survived a terrible battle. Gavin’s hand stroked down between her
thighs and Mirielle sighed, rejoicing in life and love. Loving
Gavin, she touched him freely, inciting him to more fervent
demonstrations of his rapidly rising passion.
There was in Mirielle’s deepest core a
growing emptiness that cried out to be filled. She let the
emptiness build, not fearing it, knowing that within a few moments
Gavin would fill it as they joined together to make each other
complete. He shifted position and Mirielle caught her breath. The
dearest, sweetest invasion life had to offer was about to
occur.
“My lord?” After a single knock on the door,
a serving woman opened it. “It is almost time for the midday meal.
I am sent to ask if you will be there, or if we should begin
without you and Lady Mirielle.”
“Close that door!” Gavin roared.
At the sound of his furious voice, Minn
forsook her safe position under the bed and dashed through the
door. The serving woman gasped, though whether from the cat’s
action or from the sight of the lord of Wroxley Castle quite naked
on his bedchamber floor, his limbs entangled with those of a woman
who was also naked, Mirielle could not tell.
“I said, shut it!”
“Yes, my lord.” The door shut.
Gavin returned his attention to Mirielle’s
breasts. The interruption had cooled her growing abandon a bit, if
not his. He promptly set about reclaiming her full attention.
“My lord,” she whispered, “there is a
perfectly good bed above us.”
“And a perfectly good floor beneath us,” he
responded.
“There are splinters,” she whispered.
“Let no one ever say I was unchivalrous.”
Gavin rolled over, adjusting their positions so his back was on the
floor and Mirielle was straddling him. Her unbound hair swung
around them like a curtain.
“You are so beautiful.” His large hands
caressed her shoulders with reverent tenderness before moving to
her breasts again. A short time later, when Mirielle began to sigh
and move restlessly, Gavin’s hands moved down to her slender waist
and onward to her gently swelling hips. He grabbed her hips with
both hands, lifting her, moving beneath her until he was poised,
hot and hard, at the entrance to her body.
“Gavin, what are you—oh! Ohhh.” Mirielle
closed her eyes, overcome by this new sensation, for Gavin had set
her down so that he surged into her, filling her completely in one
swift, sure movement. Her head swam and she thought she would
faint. She might have fallen if he had not held her upright while
he lifted his own hips, thrusting hard into her.
Mirielle did not know what to do at first.
She had never imagined a woman could ride a man in this way, but
Gavin was with her, helping her, showing her the way, his hands
never ceasing in their intimate caresses until he strained upward
one last time, shuddering and crying out. Mirielle’s cry echoed
his.
She collapsed gasping onto his chest, her
heart pounding with the beauty and the power of their love. Her
long hair swirled over them, covering them in silken strands into
which Gavin wove his fingers.
“My love,” he said. “My dear and only love.
Never leave me.”
“I could not,” she murmured. “I would die
without you.”
“Live with me instead.” He was about to say
more, but for a second time they were interrupted by a sharp rap on
the door. This time the person knocking did not open the door, but
neither did he stop knocking.
“My lord.” Captain Oliver’s voice came
through the thick wood. “I am sorry to disturb you, but I must
speak to you on a matter of great importance.”
“I’m busy.” To illustrate the fact to
Mirielle, if not to his captain of the guard, Gavin began to nibble
on Mirielle’s earlobe. “I may not come out until tomorrow.”
Mirielle could hear Captain Oliver chuckling,
a sound quickly suppressed. There was another tap on the door.
“My lord, I do apologize for my insistence,
but Master Hugh has sent me to you with a message.”
“Is a weary baron to have no rest?” Gavin
grumbled. In a louder voice, he added, “Hold on a moment,
Oliver.”
With remarkable ease considering how sick he
had been only the day before, Gavin picked Mirielle up and tucked
her into his bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
“This will hardly disguise what we’ve been
doing,” she said.
“I have no wish for disguise, but neither do
I want any other man looking at you.” His eyes were warm when they
rested on her face. “Let me discover what our good captain of the
guard wants of me and then I will join you there in bed.”
Gavin snatched up his tunic, pulled it over
his head, and went barefoot and barelegged to open the door.
“You had better have a good reason for this
interruption,” he said to Captain Oliver.
“Good day to you, my lord. My lady.” The
captain of the guard favored both Gavin and Mirielle with a broad
smile which widened still more when he saw the way Gavin was
dressed.
“Well?” Fists planted on his hips, Gavin
regarded the intruder. Captain Oliver only grinned the more. Gavin
prodded in a lordly tone, “What is Hugh’s so-important
message?”
“My lord, I am to tell you that Master Hugh
requires both your presence and Lady Mirielle’s below, in the
crypt.”
“The crypt?” Mirielle echoed.
“At once, if you please, my lady.”
“Tell Hugh,” said Gavin, “that, if he wants
to see me, he may do so in the great hall when I decide I am ready
to appear there.”
“No, wait.” Mirielle swung her legs to the
floor. Seeing Captain Oliver’s eyes widen at the sight of her bare
feet and ankles, she immediately pulled her legs back beneath the
covers. She could have sworn the captain had just winked at her. It
was most unlike him. Captain Oliver was usually a serious man. Yet
he was still smiling, in spite of the harsh tone Gavin had used
with him.
“Tell Master Hugh that we will join him as
soon as we are properly dressed,” Mirielle said. To avert the
irritation she saw growing on Gavin’s face, she said to him, “My
lord, Hugh knows we were both near to death after yesterday’s
battle. If he disturbs our rest, we can be sure it is for an
important reason. You may stay here if you like, but I intend to
see what Hugh is doing in the crypt.
“You are right, of course,” Gavin said. “Hugh
would not send an urgent message for a trivial reason. We will
continue our conversation later, Mirielle.”
At this, Captain Oliver cleared his throat
rather loudly and assumed a more serious expression.
“If you will excuse me, my lord,” Captain
Oliver said, “I must also deliver Master Hugh’s message to Sir
Brice.”
“Do you suppose,” Gavin asked of Mirielle as
soon as Captain Oliver had closed the bedroom door behind himself,
“that Hugh has made some new discovery about Alda or Mauger?”
“The best way to answer that question is to
go to Hugh.” Now Mirielle did leave the bed. She discovered a clean
shift and stockings and a fresh gown of green wool folded on top of
Gavin’s clothes chest, proof that when he had brought her to his
room he had considered practical needs as well as romantic desires.
By the time she was dressed and had fastened her shoes and tied her
hair back with a ribbon, Gavin was also ready. Together they
hastened below to the entry hall and then down the curving
staircase, past the chapel and into the crypt.
The low-ceilinged vault was blazing with
light. All the candles in both candelabra were lit and there were
extra torches burning in wall sconces to chase away the last of the
shadows that usually lurked in that chamber of tombs. As the
captain of the guard had promised, Hugh was there, with Captain
Oliver himself and -.
Mirielle stopped, both hands at her mouth,
gaping at an unbelievable sight. Hugh was busy so, at his slightly
distracted nod, Captain Oliver began the explanation.
“After what happened yesterday, I thought it
well to inspect the entire castle,” Captain Oliver said. “First, I
personally checked the security of the walls and of the inner and
outer baileys. Finding nothing amiss, I proceeded to the top of the
tower keep and worked my way down, level by level, until at the
very last I came here to the crypt, where I found Mistress Donada
still lying on her bier, still unburied for lack of a priest. I
thought it odd that after so many days there was no stink. The
crypt is cold, but not cold enough to stop the stench of death,”
Captain Oliver noted in his blunt soldier’s way.
“When I moved to the bier to look more
closely at Mistress Donada and to say a prayer for her, I saw that
her eyes were open, though I distinctly remembered that they were
closed when last I looked upon her face shortly after we put her on
that bier. Then, as I watched in amazement, she took a breath. That
is when I searched out Master Hugh and brought him here.”
“Donada?” Mirielle moved forward. The shroud
around Donada had been loosened and the linen sheet covering her
had been pushed back. Hugh was feeding her sips from a cup.
Mirielle recognized the scent of his hot, brewed tcha. “Donada, you
are alive!”
“It’s a miracle.” Captain Oliver crossed
himself.
“No miracle that Alda’s poison did not kill
her,” Hugh said. “The miracle, if there is one, lies in the fact
that we did not bury her. It was Donada’s own insistence on having
a priest at her funeral that saved her life.”
“And, probably, your medicine that kept
Alda’s poison from working,” Mirielle said, watching Donada take
another sip from the cup Hugh was holding. Donada looked to be
barely alive. She had not spoken, but she was obeying Hugh’s gentle
urging that she drink the tcha he offered.
“I do not think Alda meant for Donada to die
of the poison.” Hugh spoke softly, his eyes on Donada’s waxen face
as if he were judging her recovery. “I believe Alda planned for
Donada to waken after she was buried. What better revenge on the
woman Alda saw as a rival to her control of Brice, than for Donada
to regain consciousness, only to find she was buried alive, with no
hope of rescue?”