Master of Craving (17 page)

She hacked off a hindquarter of the pig, placed it in a bowl, then strode out to the stable, where she found him removing the poultice from his horse’s hoof. He ignored her, so she set the bowl down on a mound of straw and returned to the lodge, where she forced herself to eat. After wrapping the leftover meat and placing it into an earthen jar, she set it in a cool corner. Arian left a lit sconce in the great room, then made her way to the sleeping chamber. Setting the candle down on the table beside the bed, she lay down fully clothed, wondering what it was about the angry man in the stable that intrigued her so.

Her last thoughts before sleep found her were not of the honorable man she was to marry, but of a most dishonorable man who sulked in the stable.

A small noise from the bedside startled Arian awake. Her eyes widened when the hard shadow of the Saxon materialized before her. As her eyes focused in the soft light of the candle, she caught her breath. Like a hammer on an anvil, her heart thumped furiously against her chest. He stood fully clothed beside her, his gaze hot and penetrating in the low glow of the candlelight.

“Do you wish to know what it’s like to want something so badly you will do anything to have it?” he asked, his voice so low and hoarse she barely understood his question.

 

A hard shot of fear stabbed her belly. Her mouth was suddenly dry. And wild excitement ripped through even inch of her body. “Yes.”

 

“Then tonight learn your first lesson.”

He moved over her, forcing her back into the pillows to keep from touching him. “As I am forbidden to touch you, princess, so too are you forbidden to touch me,” he whispered against her throat, only the warm caress of his breath touching her skin. The tunic had pulled down onto one shoulder, exposing the high swell of her right breast. Her nipples puckered beneath the thin fabric, eager for attention. He reached out as if he were going to touch her, but he did not. “ ’Tis the anticipation of contact, the subtleties of a caress, a smoldering look, Arian, that makes a person want more.”

In the soft glow of the candle, her skin glowed warm. He dipped his head to her lips as if he were to kiss her. She closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss. Her lips parted, her breasts trembled. But all he did was caress her with his breath. “There are bonds between a man and a woman, Arian, that cannot be explained.” He dipped his nose to her neck and softly inhaled. Her scent inflamed his blood, and like molten steel, it burned. “Like your natural essence of honey and rose.” He moved down to her breasts, where he could see a pink nipple peek out from a worn spot in the fabric. Stefan dug his fingers into the sheet, not trusting himself, then he breathed on it and watched as it pebbled beneath his eyes. She moaned softly, moving her hips in a gentle undulation. Lower still, he moved to her belly, then to the place between her thighs. He closed his eyes and inhaled her womanly essence. His blood coursed hotter through him, and he felt his control slip. Huskily he said, “There, that is the true essence of a woman.”

Arian’s body trembled beneath his and yet he had not laid a finger upon her. Lowering his head, he opened his mouth as if he would take her, but blew hot breath against her soft mound.

She cried out in a long low rasp of surprise. His hands bunched the sheets, his control slipping more. Never had he wanted to touch a woman as he wanted to touch the one so close to him now. Her fresh, clean scent toyed with his senses and he knew if he pressed his lips between her thighs she would taste sweeter than heaven. Stefan lowered his lips to just hovering about her sultry body; he could feel her heat, smell her desire, and his control slipped more. He breathed upon her mons again. Her hips arched against him, brushing his lips. She hissed in harsh desire, his body stiffened to stone.

In that one tense moment of time, Stefan could not see, he could not breathe, he could not move. In that one tense moment of time, he knew what it meant to be so consumed with desire that he would offer his soul to the devil to sate it.

Slowly, for every muscle in his body raged with desire, Stefan moved away from her to the far side of the bed, and stared hard at her. She rolled over to face him, and in the candlelight, he could see a mist of moisture glossing the high color in her cheeks and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. If she but looked down, she would see that he too was affected by what just transpired. Indeed, still the battle raged within him, ’twas all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms and taking her.

“Is your body hot, Arian?” he whispered. “Does it ache?”

 

“Yes,” she breathed. She moved closer to him, her dark silvery eyes ablaze. “How do I make it go away?”

 

“I would have to touch you for you to know.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, licking her full lips. The erotic sight nearly sent him over the edge. “I would give almost anything for you to touch me, Stefan.” She opened her eyes and stared at him. “But I cannot.”

“ ’Tis a double-edged sword, Arian,” he bit off. He rolled from the bed and left the room, soundly shutting the door behind him, before he broke his oath to them both.

For most of the night, Arian tossed and turned, her body on fire, her thoughts aswirl as desire and confusion reigned supreme. Each time she moved, and the air stirred, she was acutely aware of the cold place beside her in the large bed. How easily she missed his presence. How easily he had managed to work his way into not only her every waking thought but her dreams, as well. She could not explain what had happened, or why. She did not even try. Even if she understood it, it mattered not. It
could not
matter.

She rolled over and stared at the indentation in the mattress his large body had left. Letting out a long breath, she accepted what had happened for what it was: two people thrown into a terrible circumstance and for whatever the reason God chose, he threw them together for some small comfort. And it would never happen again. It could not.

Exhausted, sleep claimed her somewhere between the darkest of night and the gray hours of dawn. She woke with a start, the pale fingers of the new day brushing across her face through the high shutter. Without looking, she knew that Stefan had not returned. The room was cold, as if the life had been sucked out of it. Quickly she tended her needs and dressed, expecting to find Stefan in the hall, but it, too, was empty. The jangle of a spur and the solid cadence of the destrier’s hooves drew her attention outside to see Stefan leading the great black toward her. He and the horse were fully mailed.

“Your mail, ’tis unusual in that it is all black,” she noted, as he stopped before her.

 

His dark brows tightened. “A gift from my king.”

 

“ ’Tis an honor, he must have valued you highly.”

 

Stefan’s jaw clenched. “We must go,” he said, looking hard at her.

Exasperation fluttered through her at his reticence. He was a most complex man! Yet despite his surliness and everything that had happened since she first laid eyes upon him, Arian could not help but wonder if things would not be different if he was not who he was and she not a princess. And that thought alone should have made her realize she was treading on very dangerous ground. He was her enemy, not her lover. Was she mad to forget that? Aye, she was a foolish girl with foolish notions! He would ransom her and then be off on his merry way, counting his coin while she was left putting the pieces of her ravaged life back together. She stiffened, angry with herself and feeling like a ninny. “A moment, then, to collect my meager belongings.”

There was not much to collect: a few borrowed rags she bundled up along with the brush, before she hurried back to him.

Without a word Stefan hoisted her up into the saddle, then hopped up behind her. He grasped the reins, gave the horse a soft nudge, and they were off. When they had gone several leagues and with no word spoken, the tension was too much for her to bear. Forgetting her anger for the moment, her pride wrestled with a question she must know the answer to. “Do you think less of me for my wanton behavior?” she blurted.

“Nay.”

 

She let out a long breath, realizing his opinion of her mattered. Why, she did not know. “Nor do I think less of you for yours.”

 

She felt his chest rumble with laughter. “Princess, you are a most unusual woman. I fear your husband will have a terrible time keeping you under his thumb.”

 

At the mention of Magnus, she stiffened. She did not wish to speak of him. “Where are we bound?”

 

“Draceadon, in southwest Mercia.”

 

“What is there?”

 

“A safe place.”

She would welcome a safe place. And she knew, without feeling the least bit naïve for thinking it, that Stefan would see to her safety until she was reunited with her father. Mayhap that was why she let down her guard, forgetting he was her enemy, because despite it he would not harm her. Suddenly fatigued, Arian yawned and settled back against Stefan’s chest. Immediately he stiffened. She half-turned and looked up at him, squinting against the eastern sun. “Why do you stiffen? Do you find me undesirable now?”

He did not look down at her, but kept his eyes on the path ahead. “Nay, that will never change, but rest assured, there will be no more lessons.”

 

In her heart, she knew there would no more, but she asked the question anyway. “Why not?”

 

“Because we are headed for trouble, and it is trouble I can ill afford.”

 

“But there
is
more, is there not?”

 

He shook his head. “Nay. Take what you learned last eve and apply it to your husband, and he will be a most happy man.”

 

She turned in a huff. “I do not understand your sudden reluctance.” But she understood perfectly.

 

“You will, later this eve.”
ELEVEN

Stefan pushed the horse hard. By midday he dismounted and led him, alleviating some of the weight, hoping the swollen tissue in his hoof would hold until they reached Draceadon. But at the slower pace he doubted they would be close enough to the main road to Dunloc by nightfall. He dreaded spending another night alone lying beside Arian. He grasped the reins so tightly that his knuckles whitened. He set his jaw and ignored the pain it caused his cheek.

Urgency pushed him to walk faster, despite the heaviness of his mail. The fate of his brothers, combined with his sexual frustration, strained his raw nerves. He had nearly broken his oath to her and to himself, not once but twice. And while his honor when it came to women could be questioned by many, he was not that much of a knave to put the lady’s best interests aside for a momentary pleasure.

She would serve her purpose in freeing his brothers, and what she did afterwards was her choice, but he would not take what chance of happiness she had from her because he was selfish. And he knew his limits, and last night he had reached them.

Despite the slowed pace, they did not make bad time, but he was not close enough to risk making a run for it in the darkness should they meet up with renegades or patrolling Normans. Were he alone he would have ridden through the night, allowing Apollo to find his way back along the road, but he would not chance losing Arian. She was critical to his plan. So, reluctantly, Stefan made the decision to stop for the night. By mid-morning the next day they would reach Draceadon. He cast a weary eye to the rumbling sky. The skies had been dark and turbulent all day, but he prayed the rains would hold at least ’til morn.

He found a suitable spot not too far from the road. As Stefan helped Arian dismount, he noted her closed face and somber mood. They had spoken nary a word to each other the entire day. For that he was glad. He had already begun to push her from his thoughts, not wanting to dwell on her.

Silently she helped him untack the horse. When he turned to rub down the destrier, she scurried off into the wood. He let out a long sigh. They would need to eat. He built a small fire to heat the leftover haunch of the pig. ’Twould have to suffice.

After some time he glanced into the darkened wood, his concern growing when the princess failed to return. Mayhap she needed time to herself. God only knew he did. A solitary man even with his brothers, he did not do well in forced social situations. He knew not words of love and humor, as did Warner and other swains. He was quiet and serious, always watching the goings-on around him rather than partaking in them.

Just as he stood to fetch her, she emerged, holding the hem of her tunic to her belly, and, in so doing, exposing her long shapely legs. Heat flared in his groin. “Berries!” she announced, spreading her bounty on a big supple leaf before him. “Lots and lots of berries!”

Stefan shook his head and turned from her. He removed his mail hauberk and sword belt, but kept his mail chauses on. Mostly to keep as much metal as possible between his cock and the vixen sitting down on a rock before the fire.

He fitted the leg of pig onto the spit he had carved and propped it over the meager fire. Arian walked to the nearby stream and washed her hands, then wandered back toward him and stood staring at him. He returned her gaze, but did not speak. She raised her chin and set it—a look he was beginning to know meant trouble.

“When we arrive at this safe place you speak of, I demand to immediately send word to my father and to Moorwood that I am alive.”

 

He spoke carefully. “Word will be sent to those who need to know you are alive and in my care.”

Her face drained of color. “Must you say I am
your
hostage? Assumptions will be made! Does this Draceadon have a lady? Say ’tis she who holds me. My reputation is blighted as it is. Cadoc and Ivar will flap their jaws; indeed, my father is probably already aware of my shame.”

His muscles tensed. To occupy them, he turned the spit above the low fire. “You insult me with your words, princess.”

 

She knelt down beside him. “My apologies, but ’tis the truth.”

 

He scowled. “Would your reputation be less blighted if you had been found naked in the arms of a magnate?”

 

Her head snapped back and her eyes narrowed. “You misunderstand me, sir. My shame is the same regardless of the man.”