Immortal Surrender (20 page)

Unable to set his eyes upon her again, Farran strode from the room, through the hall, and out the door into the bright sunlight. He did not slow his step as he marched around the castle’s wall, aware of the heads that turned to follow. Former servants made no move to acknowledge him, despite the fact he recognized several. Brighid’s poison had spread to them; nothing could be more obvious.

Behind the thatched roof building where the scullery maids labored over hot fires, Farran found his son. Blond hair that matched his own swayed in the breeze as Alefric skipped a large rock into a small pile of pebbles.

“Alefric?”

The boy turned around, puzzlement written into his angelic face. “Aye?”

Farran’s heart swelled with pride. He had grown taller. His skin spoke of good health. Strong, robust—Alefric would become a man to reckon with. Farran cleared the emotion from his throat and tried for a smile. “Do you remember me, son?”

Miniature eyebrows tugged together, and Alefric shook his head.

Farran dropped to one knee, his hand extended. “’Tis I. Your father.”

A stubborn chin jutted forth. “My father died in the Holy Land. And if he lived, I would not wish to see him.”

Another lance of pain stabbed through Farran. On a choked whisper he asked, “Why do you say such?”

Alefric’s boyish features hardened into stone, and his blue eyes assumed a glint as sharp as glass. “My father is a traitor. He turned against my ancestors and disgraced my mother’s name.”

“Nay!” The bark broke free, against Farran’s will. He stood up, clinging to the last of his control. “I disgraced no one. I did what was right.”

For an instant, indecision passed across Alefric’s face. Farran grasped at it and did something he never thought he would live to hear. He begged. “I live, Alefric. Do you not remember my face? The way we caught frogs in the creek the summer before I left? How I told you stories each night before you fell asleep? I am no traitor. You must believe me.”

Slow, hesitant steps brought Alefric to stand before Farran. He tipped his head back, scoured Farran’s face with inquisitive eyes. “You are Farran de Clare?” he asked quietly.

“Aye,” Farran breathed.

As the fist around his lungs slowly eased, and he began to believe his son would embrace him, Alefric drew back. One tiny upper lip curled into a sneer before he spit on Farran’s boots. “My father is dead.”

*   *   *

Farran bolted upright in bed, the nightmare making him gasp for air. Sweat trickled on his brow, loosening the tape Noelle had used to secure his bandage. He ripped it off and tossed it aside. In the dim light of her bedside lamp, he glanced around the room, certain he would find Brighid laughing in a corner. When he found himself alone, he pressed a hand over his pounding heart and closed his eyes to the pain he could not escape.

Centuries had passed since Alefric’s denouncement haunted his sleep. So many years he had begun to believe he had put the nightmare behind him. ’Twas Noelle’s fault, this sudden stirring of memories he wished to escape. The angelic touch of her hands, the compassion in her fawnlike eyes. She roused feelings he had not allowed himself since that dreadful summer afternoon in 1130. And with those stirrings, she brought his past to life.

Aye, indeed he had erred in staying here. He dared not spend another moment longer than he must.

He frowned as he realized she did not lie at his side. ’Twas long after midnight; she should be asleep. Had she used his exhaustion as a means to find escape?

Ignoring the dull throb behind his skull, he pushed to his feet and dragged himself through the door. If she had run, if she had played his weakness to her advantage …

The thought came to a skidding halt as he spied her asleep on the couch. Relief washed through him with such force he sagged against the door frame and expelled a heavy breath. She had not run. Had merely left him in solitude.

While he watched, she shivered.

Cool air kissed his bare chest, and he realized the chill in the room. Grumbling to himself, he crossed to her side. Touching her was the last thing he cared to do. Yet he could not leave her in discomfort. She had sacrificed her warmth, and he would not leave her in misery. Not when she had tended him with so much care.

Unwilling to wake her, he scooped her into his arms. His breath caught as she turned her face to his chest and nestled her cheek against his skin. Though he would not admit it, he liked the feel of her. The way she molded into him. The way one hand clutched at his shoulder as if she sought to bring him even closer.

Her cat padded along behind him as he carried Noelle to the oversized bed. With some difficulty, he managed to keep her from tumbling loose whilst he pulled down the thick mound of blankets. Yet when he sought to disentangle himself and lay her against the pillows, her fingers bit into his arm, refusing to let go. He leaned back to give her a perturbed scowl. Instead, he found half-open eyes looking up at him.

“Sleep, damsel. I have brought you to your bed.”

“Stay,” she murmured, once again snuggling in close. “I’m not scared when you’re here.”

Her confession bottomed out his stomach. For several heavy heartbeats, he froze, unable to make thoughts or words form. Stay with her. The invitation could not be more clear. Yet if he stayed, he could not be certain Alefric and Brighid would not return.

Through the haze of conflict shrouding his mind, one whispered word echoed louder than the rest.
Scared.
She was afraid. And that fear he alone could carry the blame for. He had brought her here. Had forced her to this place she did not understand. He could no more turn away from her request than he could deny their fated pairing. He owed her the security of her dreams, at least.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Let go. I will stay.” He slipped his arms from behind her and lifted a hand to stroke her silken hair. “Sleep, Lady Noelle. Sleep.”

The fleeting realization he had called no one
Lady
since Brighid passed through his head as he eased himself into the bed beside her. When his head hit the pillow, she surprised him by rolling into his arms and setting a delicate palm over his drumming heart. Sensation shot through his body, tensing every muscle in an instant. He blinked against the pleasant contact and lay utterly still, afraid if he moved she would either roll away or snuggle even closer.

Which he desired most, he did not know.

After several never-ending minutes, the even cadence of her breath brushing against his skin spoke of heavy sleep. Hesitantly, he set his hand on her hip. This was uncharted territory. He could not remember the last time he spent a night with a woman at his side. Even Leah, he left when the lust in his loins cooled.

Noelle, however, felt good. And the pleasant scent of jasmine that floated to his awareness beckoned him to press his nose to her hair and inhale deeply. He followed the urge, closing his eyes to the sweet comfort her warmth offered. Instinctively, he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight.

CHAPTER 18

Bright sunlight lulled Farran from the feel of soft curves melded against his body. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to confront the light of day, longing to remain in the sweet haven of dreams. As he lay still, absorbing the full pleasure of a willing woman tucked within his arms, a quiet, feminine murmur triggered awareness.

’Twas not a mere dream. Noelle lay folded against his chest.

He cracked one eye open, hesitant to believe she would not fade away with the light. At the sight of her parted lips and lowered lashes, a deeply buried knot slowly unraveled. The sensation sparked pleasant heat within his blood, and he breathed in her sweet perfume. Against his thigh, he felt his cock thicken.

Taken aback by his body’s profound reaction, he eased his chin free of her hair to better study her face. Lighter skin across the bridge of her nose and near her temple reminded him of the glasses he found so compelling. She had not worn them last eve, though he had not realized it until now.

He allowed his gaze to travel the length of her elegant neck, across a shoulder his palm could easily cover. The sensations stirring in his veins intensified at the discovery her fingers still pressed against his pectoral, and that tempting mouth nearly touched his bare flesh. He shifted a knee to ease the growing discomfort in his loins, only to have his thigh tumble against hers. With widened eyes, he shifted to inspect her positioning, and sucked in a sharp breath on finding her leg wedged between his.

Jesu
. ’Twas no wonder his cock swelled. She fit against him as if they shared a night of intimate pleasure, not a mere eve with their clothes on.

He closed his eyes to an inward groan and lay unmoving. Sensibility urged him to disentangle their bodies. But the idea of removing himself triggered a far more primal response. His body tensed in violent protest. Something inside his chest that he could not name squashed in on itself. He could not move. He could scarcely draw a normal breath.

She stirred, drawing his eyes open once more. He looked down to find her fawn-colored gaze heavily laden with sleep. Yet as he held her quiet stare, those fathomless eyes drew him in so deep he could not hope to surface. The heat in his veins rose to intolerable limits, and the overwhelming desire to revisit the kiss they had shared before possessed him. Though it defied all logic, he must have one more taste of her. Must discover if the velvety slide of her tongue offered as much promise as he recalled, or if ’twas just a fragment of fantasy.

Rising to his elbow, he lowered his body into hers and eased her onto her back. She offered no protest, despite the way his knee slid between her thighs. To his astonishment, she did not encourage by shifting her body to give him room. Unlike the other women he brought to his bed, Noelle ignored the blatant press of his hips and offered only the faintest hint of a smile.

Even on his wedding night, Brighid welcomed the invasion of his body by lifting her head in search of his mouth. But then, he had learned not long after, he had not wed a maiden.

Farran ordered the wayward thoughts aside. Brighid had plagued him enough last eve. He would not allow her to intrude on this unexpected delight.

He dipped his head to Noelle’s and brushed his mouth against hers, seeking entry. She parted her lips ever so slightly, her response as light as a feather’s caress. What manner of kiss was this? Did she seek to play the innocent, or did she wish for him to stop?

Intrigued, Farran traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. Beneath him, she shivered. The response rolled through him, vibrated down his spine, and stirred his swollen shaft. Fierce desire leapt to life, and he slipped one hand into the silken lengths of her hair. Curling his fingers against her scalp, he angled her head where he desired it and nudged her lips apart.

No more play. ’Twas time to make his intent unmistakable. If she wished to refuse him, she must speak now. For he intended to take full pleasure in the gift of waking beside her. He had spent too long away from Leah, and his body would not stand another moment of this ache.

Noelle met the urgent foray of his tongue with hesitant strokes. Unlike the kiss he recalled, she did not answer with hunger. The fleeting brush, the hesitant retreat, stoked a memory of the serving girl he had cornered behind the stables when he was but a squire of fourteen. She had tittered with laughter, blushed profusely, all evidence of her …

The meaning hit him with the force of a fist.
Jesu!
Noelle was innocent.

Stunned, he froze, his lips clinging to hers.
He
had kissed her in the adytum. He had been so affected by the tenderness his scar elicited, he had not given the stolen moment consideration. Yet now, as he replayed the brief encounter, he realized ’twas he who dominated. Even then, Noelle’s response lacked the familiarity of one well practiced.

With a low groan, he succumbed to sensation he had never imagined possible. Untouched. Naive.

His.

It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to ravage her mouth and lose himself in her sultry flavor. With measured breaths, he encouraged her, told her without words what he desired. Proving herself a quick study, she responded eagerly. Velvety strokes sent his senses careening into one another. Moist heat that carried the lingering flavor of mint sent his heart thudding into his ribs.

Innocent. His seraph had never known a man.

Over and over, the discovery echoed in his mind, until he could not kiss her deep enough. Could not mesh himself close enough. He sank his body into hers, a slave to the tide of feeling that roiled inside. A light mewl that escaped the depths of her throat provoked his own hungry groan, and he gave in to the need to feel her flesh beneath his hands.

He slid his free hand down her arm, roamed his way up her ribs. His thumb stroked the fleshy side of her breast, and Noelle sucked in a gasp through her nose. He lifted his head to give her a moment to breathe. But holding her gaze, he covered her breast with his palm. Her eyes lit with liquid warmth. Her lashes fluttered against her high cheekbones. As he rolled a taut nipple beneath his thumb, he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

A crisp, demanding knock at the door stilled both his hand and his mouth. Curses, more vile than he would gift Azazel himself, screamed inside Farran’s mind as Lucan called out, “Farran, the hour approaches noon. Mikhail orders your presence.”

*   *   *

As Farran rolled to his back with a hiss, Noelle’s mind reeled. Every fiber of her body pulsed with sensation. Every nerve ending arced as if live current ran in her veins. Her breath came in short, quick bursts that added to the rising heat in her cheeks.

He had kissed her. Not the aggressive pressure that came with his brief foray in the house in D.C., but something entirely different. An encounter Noelle couldn’t describe with words. The only thought that rose was that he’d mastered her. And, damn it all, she didn’t want it to end.

“I must go.” Farran sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Mikhail would not demand my presence lest something important has occurred.”