Aurora Rose Lynn (4 page)

“So you’re the lady.”

His voice with its underlying sensuality captivated her. She swallowed hard. Her tongue tied up in thick knots and her thoughts didn’t fare much better. Why couldn’t she speak, at least acknowledge him?

“Who are you?” she asked softly, asking more from curiosity. Angelet was a huge proponent that the goddess favored those who believed in her.

His sexy lips turned up slightly at the corners. “I‘m your servant for the day, and the night, if you wish it, milady. Your pleasure is my sole aim today.” He stepped forward, gallantly took her hand and scattered a trail of small kisses along her knuckles. His breath warmed her skin and made the pit of her stomach tingle with a giddy wonder.

A pulse skittered in her throat as he lifted velvet eyebrows upward. “It’s my pleasure to serve you however you see fit. The life of this poor knave is in your hands.” The heat behind his words was unmistakable. This time
Celestine found her voice. “It
is
my pleasure.”

As soon as the words were out, she reprimanded herself for coming up with the stupidest thing she could think to say. The radiance of his smile and the sure touch of his hand on hers awakened the sweet agony within her.

His sexy lips quirked upward at the corners. “Only for you, milady.”

From somewhere in her hazy mind, she heard the word ‘milady’ again. Did he know who she was, despite Angelet’s protests to the contrary?

He straightened to his full height, several inches above her five foot five inches. She tilted her head upwards and sucked in a quick breath. Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? What would Leuric think of that?

She found herself leaning into the man, as she stretched on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his mouth. He smelled of scented oils and crushed pine. He groaned. Their lips lingered, tasting, gently at first,
then crushing together. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Her hips grazed his pulsing cock and she wanted more, much more of him.

He drew away from her, causing her to stumble, but he caught her quickly. “Not here,” he said his voice hoarse.

She slammed her heels into the ground. How could she have forgotten she was in public? She huffed a breath as the man took her hand and drew her away from the village center. Celestine scanned the area but she didn’t think anyone had noticed – they were too busy enjoying their own public tryst.

The man paused. “May I get you something to eat? There is all manner of food in the village today, even red wine if your heart so desires.”

“No.” She had forgotten about her hunger. The only food she wanted was this man’s body. She insinuated her hips against his, feeling his pulsing cock against her mound. He pushed her away, but grabbed her hand in a big, square one.

A shock of awareness licked through her at his touch. Her small hand fit perfectly in his, much like a glove. He made her want to melt against his hard chest. Her nipples budded against her shift. She had hardly met him and she couldn’t believe the strong physical effect he had on her. Her mind wandered back to all the times Angelet and she had discussed how long a man’s cock could get. Her unbidden thought made a blush creep into her cheeks.

Lightheaded, she trailed along at his side as he passed through the crowd, which seemed to open up before his magnificent presence. He didn’t push, shove or use angry words as she had seen Leuric’s guards do when they made passage for their master. The crowd simply opened up in front of him.

As they hastened to cross the narrow road, a commotion stirred through the people standing nearby.

“Make way for the lord! Make way for the lord,” a shrill male voice shouted.

Celestine
’s escort pulled her roughly out of the way just as one of an army of horses and riders cantered by. Celestine drew as far back as she could when she saw the blue and yellow livery Leuric used. She turned her face away in case any of the guards deemed her presence noteworthy.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a horse swing too close to the outskirts of the crowd, where a woman heavy with child stood. The woman gave a cry of alarm before she lost her balance and fell to the hard-packed ground. No one seemed to notice her as the horses galloped by.

Celestine’s escort grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Those dirty rats”. He dropped her hand and rushed forward to the woman who lay curled in a fetal position. Every movement was swift and virile – a man who obviously meted out justice without a qualm. He helped her to her feet and seemed to speak to her in a soothing tone but Celestine couldn’t be sure, even from this short distance. Moments later, another man, his face shielded from the sun by a large-brimmed hat, hurried to the woman and helped her as she gained her feet. Neither the man, who Celestine assumed to be the woman’s mate, nor the woman, gave her escort a word or nod of thanks.

“Is she hurt?”
Celestine queried, concerned the fall might have injured the unborn baby. The woman’s stomach was well-rounded, meaning the baby could come at any time.

“Nay.
The guardsmen gave her a scare.”

Nothing could hide the tense bitterness he had spoken with.
Celestine glanced into his tight-jawed face and was shocked to see overwhelming hatred in his gray-green eyes. He veiled it so quickly she couldn’t be sure if the hostility had really been there or if she imagined it. She decided there was no need to explore that possibility. She found herself drawn to this man who rendered aid without thought for himself. Who was he? Why did he have such a noble bearing? Where had he come from? Why hadn’t she seen him before? Would this one night with such a robust stranger be enough? She sighed. Probably not.

Celestine
’s escort brushed stray strands of hay from his chest and arms. “The woman will be fine so there’s no need to worry about her.”

Celestine
nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. She noted he hadn’t called the woman ‘lady’. “What do people call you?”

His eyes clouded for a brief second before they cleared and a grim smile appeared on his lips. His voice was so low she barely heard him.
“Kerrich. You didn’t tell me yours.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in close to her and coaxed his lips over hers. He tasted of honey and salt. Her body craved for more of him than she could have with strangers observing them.
The noise from the crowd talking and laughing and the dogs barking and the children playing loudly, dimmed away. More than anything, she wanted this man inside her.

Kerrich gazed into her intense blue eyes and felt himself hardening at the hunger evident in her eyes. He wanted to take this delicate flower right here but knew that even if the Beltane revelers didn’t notice, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself come morning. He had expected to wait until nightfall to take this delectable woman up into the hayloft and make ardent love to her. Before, in the past, he would have offered her more than a poor man’s bed of straw in a hayloft but he refused to think about that now. And how the goddess/witch had enticed him into the mad lust for a woman he didn’t know. He would have his pleasure all night long as he hopefully offered her pleasure, then he would be on his way in the morning.

“You haven’t told me your name,” he prompted, wondering what difference a name made. He had been successful during the last year in hiding his identity. How had the goddess/witch known who he was? He extended his hand and caught a wispy curl resting against her lightly-blushed cheeks.

She seemed to consider her answer before she answered, “
Celestine.” The name meant little to him although he remembered hearing about a Celestine but couldn’t recall where.

“Your name sounds like a pretty flower but you’re much more beautiful.” She had a dainty femininity about her with her long black hair hanging loose to the back of her knees. She could tie him up with its length and have her way with him if she so desired. As long as she drove her pussy over his cock and rode him hard, he would remain content.

Hell’s damnation, but if he didn’t stop thinking with his cock, he might lose his chance at freedom. It was foolhardy to dream he could have a life with any woman. But wouldn’t that change in the next two days, he asked himself. He should draw back, pack up his cart with its few worldly goods and leave the village. If he capitulated to this madness, he might see his dream evaporate before his eyes, just like the early morning mist did.

He pressed a calloused palm against her face as she gazed into his eyes. Never again would he spend time in
a impenetrably dark dungeon eating moldy bread and being nipped at by rats larger than his feet. He grasped her exquisitely small fingers, so dainty against the large span of his own.

He watched as she swallowed hard, a tiny momentary knot in the slender white column of her neck. Her tunic
was cut tauntingly low to reveal the swell of her high-perched breasts. He couldn’t help thinking that he would have ravished her right on the spot if he had been other than who he was.

She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Please.”

He trailed a finger along her throat, down her soft skin to the swell of her left breast. She moaned and her eyelashes feathered her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She would drive a man insane with her pleading eyes, with a narrow waist he could easily span his hands around and that daisy-like delicacy about her.

He said nothing as he tugged her forward through a group of villagers eating roast pork and drinking mead. Uneasiness, the sensation of
being watched, pricked at his back. Warily, he looked around but saw nothing suspicious. No one watched them. He doubted anyone had cause to. He tried to relax his tense shoulders. Beltane was a time for a quick roll in the hay with no commitment. By the time Celestine and he were sated, there would be no reason to form a bond.

The prickling sensation persisted though as he led her some distance from the feasting, through a short field and into a neglected barn. He helped her climb the ladder in to the hayloft, watching her ass jiggle under her gown. What would she look like when she was
naked to his eyes? Like a gallant knight, he removed his tawny cloak and set it down on the hay, unwilling to hurry the process of making love, and more than willing to savor every moment. Who knew but that it might be his last time, he thought grimly.

He ran a finger around her lips, watching how the pupils in her eyes narrowed to slits. Her lips parted with urgent desire under the light pressure and he heard her give a small sigh. Gently, he pulled her down with him onto the cloak. Did she yearn for his body as much as he did for hers? Hell’s damnation, but he wanted to pin her body under his and indulge his hardened cock in her sheath. There would be time enough for that.

Panting, Celestine lay on her back and propped his hand on his elbow to look into her face. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed in and out. He sensed she wanted to ask him questions but he stilled the turmoil by placing an index finger over her lips before he gently began to rub the skin around her lips. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her tunic. She moaned. His lips traced a line of lazy fire and she tilted her head back to expose the slender column of her neck. Slipping a hand behind his neck, he felt her toy with the fine hairs of his nape. Celestine would drive him wild before this encounter was over. She bent her knees and turned slightly towards him, cupping her hand around his engorged cock. A tortured sigh broke from his lips. “You would have driven me insane,” he whispered, “if I had to spend the day watching you and not be able to touch you.”

He untied the pink ribbons holding the tunic in place around her waist. She smelled of meadow flowers and roses and female arousal. Hell’s damnation but he wanted to bury his head between her legs and taste her. For the moment, he forgot about his trek to freedom and the past six years of toil and drudgery and the hopeless feeling that he would ever be a free man again. He focused on making love to
this woman whom he knew little about. He wanted to keep it that way. Tomorrow would see him on the run again.

“I want to strip you naked and feast my eyes on you,” he murmured.

“In broad daylight?” she queried breathlessly, blushing prettily.

Nothing more than a croak came from his throat as he tried to answer. He ended up nodding.

She laughed low. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Made love?” he asked in a husky voice.

She inclined her head.

Kerrich didn’t want to know more. For the moment, he wanted to remain oblivious to the facts of her life, to concentrate on his hands roaming her body. He tasted her lips as she pressed her hand around his shaft, drawing a low moan from him. Agonizing awareness spiraled through his blood. He wouldn’t hurry this, he told himself. He would make it last and last. She tasted as good as she smelled. His mouth tingled and his cock swelled against her palm. He pressed his lips against her forehead and began to trail burning heat down her face.

She nibbled on the crest of his ear and straightened her knees, drawing her body closer to his. The gown’s material rustled against the loft’s hay-strewn floor.

“Please,” he heard her beg. “Touch me. I can’t wait any more.”

He sucked in his breath, amazed at the warm, fragrant body next to his. When was the last time he had felt so good and so wanted? It was so easy to forget he was on the run. If he explored the heaven between her thighs, surely he would lose control of himself.

Languidly, he caressed her skin. “I’m at your service,” he said, urging himself to slow down for her sake. She looked so fragile, so small compared to his muscled bulk. He saw her nipples peak under the pale blue of her gown.

Her glistening eyes, pools of liquid water, met his. He brushed her thigh against hers. She raised her head to meet his kiss; her lips, tasting of mint, parted under his tongue. He relished the sense of urgency radiating from her. For the first time since he had been thrown in prison, he felt a master of his own destiny.

She whimpered and once again shifted. Gently, he pulled the fabric from her shoulder and watched as he uncovered her milky white skin. He paused as the material gaped over her small, pert breast, emphasizing her budded nipple. How slowly could he really take this? Rational thought stopped and primal urge took over. He pushed the fabric up over the swell over her breast and peeled it off. Bending his head to suckle the lovely, inviting tip, he knew he could wait no longer.

She must have sensed the urgency thrumming in his body because she reached for the drawstring of his breeches and untied the knot in the heavy cord. His hard cock sprang free, consumed with lust. He lifted her gown and insinuated his hand along her thigh, hardness against rose-petal softness. Her moans of pleasure, finding her wet spot and walking his fingers through her honeyed cream was his undoing.

Insistent need clamored through his veins. He shoved her gown up over her hips, bunching the fabric to her waist. He gasped seeing her swollen mound and its thick patch of hair. She spread her legs wide open, silently inviting him to feast. He settled himself between her thighs, cherishing the feeling that his senses had never been so inflamed, so aroused with need. She took quick breaths as she drew his head down to hers and showered blazing kisses, above his eyebrows, his eyelids and down his cheeks to his mouth. Sunlight caught dark brown streaks in her mound’s black curls.

He stretched her pussy lips wide and plunged into her, melding their bodies into one. Her tight sheath enveloped his cock. He eased deeper into her. Not even her small cry made him break the pace of his mad thrusting. Her body tensed before she relaxed and buried her head in the crook of his neck. She tilted her hips upwards, closing the small gap between them and wrapped her ankles around his ass. A moan of tortured ecstasy escaped his lips. His rod, snug in her moist pussy, felt at home in a place he had never thought to find.

His rapid breathing filled his ears as he thrust into her and out again, his cock meeting the entrance of her wet sheath. She squeezed his ass under her heels, urging him to a frenzied tempo. His body vibrated with a low humming and then the world slipped away. He felt nothing but his body at one with hers.

Moments later, his heart slammed against his ribs and he exploded and his come spurt into her again and again. He heard her cry out in delight. Her fingernails bit into the tender skin of his nape. Sagging weakly on his forearms, he tried to stop the world from reeling in crazy circles. His muscles were weak and his body was coated with salty sweat, dampening his tunic. Under his chest, her breasts rose and fell sharply.

He forced his eyes open and examined the orbs of blue heaven that held no reproach for his hasty sating of his needs. “Knock me over the head,” he
said, his voice low and hoarse.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, slackening the grip of her ankles on his waist. Her eyebrows knit together. “Why?” she asked, her voice lethargic.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” What had made him into such an unthinking, selfish cur?

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you give me another chance? To prove that I’m not the rogue you might think I am?”

“I don’t know what made you think like that,” she murmured, burying her face against his shoulder. His cock went flaccid inside her wetness. Slowly he withdrew. With a pang of remorse, he shifted his weight off her and to one side. While he had been inside her, he had felt at one with her,
wanted and needed in a way he hadn’t felt since he had been on the run. It was all the harder to think that very soon, he would have to leave her and start running again. It was the only way to insure his freedom.

***

With his arms folded across his chest, the Hidden Observer leaned against the hut and watched the villagers making fools of themselves. The barber, usually a level-headed man, performed cartwheels while the beekeeper marched around with a small dagger, mockingly threatening anyone who ventured his path.

He grunted and shifted from foot to foot, disliking the stupid, juvenile antics. His Treasure, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders like a silky waterfall, had strolled by with the chattering bitch maid. The Hidden Observer bided his time. Soon the lady
Celestine would be his for the taking and no one would be any the wiser.