Bride of the Beast (33 page)

Sir
John
's lips moved, but no words, no explanation of his duplicity poured forth.

Only a welter of pink-flecked froth.

"N-never lost Kinraven—" A mere rasp, pushed from his lips by death itself.

"Never lost Kinraven?" That from James. He stared at Sir
John
's waxen face, his own paling. "What foolery is that? AH know—" He broke off at a warning glance from Mar-raaduke, and a sharp elbow in the ribs from Alec.

His eyelids flickering again, Sir
John
met James's astonishment as best he could. "'Twas Dunlaidir he wanted ... “I along ... p-promised to leave Kinraven untouched if... if..."

'—If you'd help him gain Dunlaidir," James finished for "him, pushing hotly to his feet when Sir
John
gave him a silent, anguished nod.

“By
all the saints!" James shouted in a burst of temper.
“T
o think I welcomed him, gave him sanctuary!" Whirring away, he exited the hall, his long-strided gait as straight the fine red line stretching across Sir
John
's belly.

"M-my regrets ... sorry ..." Sir
John
whispered, his glassy eyed stare fixed on some distant point beyond Marmaduke's shoulder.

Mayhap beyond this world.

And then he was gone, his feeble peace offered, his trot bled eyes rolling up, his last breath spent.

Equally troubled, Marmaduke lowered Sir
John
's head to the floor, then stood. His gaze seeking and finding his wife's, he shrugged off his cloak, and, after swirling it over the dead man's body, he went to her.

She came toward him, her arms extended as she pushed her way through the throng. He opened his arms as well.,, and waited. His courage, so bold on the field of battle, proved not quite stout enough for him to believe she'd fling herself so wholeheartedly into his embrace.

But she did, and in that precious moment, the very world tilted beneath Marmaduke's feet.

The glory of her acceptance, her unabashed joy at his safe return, felled him with a far greater blow than any English steel could ever deliver.

His heart swelling to a such degree he could scarce breathe, he wrapped his arms around her, letting her cling to him, marveling that she did, blood-sullied and grimed as he stood before her.

 
"My lady, but I love you," he breathed the words agains' her temple, too overcome to care that she stiffened upon hearing them.

Setting her from him, he cradled her face with his hand
^s
and touched his forehead to hers. "Do not say it," he murmured into the warm silk of her hair, "just
be,
and let me
revel in holding you."

He slipped an arm beneath her, lifting her to him she could object... or ruin the moment.

The most precious he'd had in many long years.

"Yon wretch was not one of the dragons I meant to slay for you, my dear heart" he said, carrying her from the hall, "and 1 believe it is time for us to challenge the true ones."

She leaned back to peer at him, astonishment banking in her sapphire eyes. "Are you not—?"

"Aye, my love, I am too weary even for that fair bliss," he answered honestly, wishing it wasn't so.
Wishing desperately it wasn't so.
"But," he amended as he began the circuitous climb to her bedchamber, "I've brought a fine bullock for your table, and as soon as this
true
wedding feast is past us, I shall make good every one of my promises."

He paused to kiss her. Deeply, and with all the fierce exultation she stirred in his heart. He drew back only when the last vestiges of stiffness eased out of her and she went limp in his arms, the soft sigh escaping her, enough. For the moment.

"This night, my heart, a bath and a warm bed will suffice," he said, pleased when she didn't balk at his deliberate use of the word
bed.
Bed, not pallet.

"I ask only that you let me hold you," he said, resuming their climb up the turnpike stair. "Hold you, and savor your warmth."

**

Much later, in the stillest hour of the night, Catenae stood beside her bed and peered down at the man sleeping so soundly within its curtained depths. She clenched her hands against her mounting frustration.

She wanted more than simply being held.

She wanted to
feel.
                                                 

Her heart pounding slow and hard, she watched the tee glow steal across his exposed back, the silvery ridges of his scars twisting her heart; the wide set of his shoulders and the well-muscled arm he'd slung over a pillow, tempting her be bold.

To heed the desire pulsing deep inside her.

A tight, winding, and breathless need as sweet and rare as the clear and lustrous night stretching beyond her bedchain ber's arch-topped windows.

A glittering expanse, as broad and far-reaching as the se» A magical night.

For once swept clean of clouds and mist, and studded with countless twinkling stars. Cold and distant each one, but winking down at her with encouraging smiles.

Their silvery light assured her she could be daring enough to awaken her slumbering husband and tell him she desired more than mere sleep this night.

Need, expectant and sharp, twisted inside her. A fierce and demanding ache crying to be slaked. Slanting a glance over her shoulder at the shadowy window embrasure, she swallowed hard.

Could she be so bold? The stars winked ... yes.

Her blood quickening, and before her nerve left her, she cast one last look at her sleeping husband, then crossed the room and lowered herself onto one of the two bench-style seats carved into the walls of the window alcove. "S-Sir..." A mere squeak.

Not loud enough for a mouse to hear and certainly not... bold.

She moistened her lips.
"Sir!"
         
                             

That, he heard.

Ne'er had Caterine seen anyone exit a bed so quickly.

Or recover his wits as swiftly.

That, he heard.

Ne'er had Caterine seen anyone exit a bed so quickly.

Or recover his wits as swiftly.

"Thunder of heaven!" Chest heaving, he stared at her. "Saints, woman, I thought we were under siege."

I
am under siege,
her awakening womanhood affirmed.

She said nothing. The sight of his hard-muscled body, magnificent in nothing but his braies, swelled her tongue.

And sent sent delicious eddies of excitement whirling through her.

He came toward her, wholly at ease with his near-nakedness, fully unaware of her brazen intent. Stopping in front of her, he raked a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Do you not know it is unwise to awaken a man so abruptly? I could have hurt you when I leapt from the bed."

"I wanted you to see the night sky," she blurted, not looking at the stars at all, but at his groin... and the hard ridge of his phallus, still swollen from his deep slumber and pressing hard against the thin linen of his leggings.

"You are not looking at the stars, my lady," he said, his voice low and husky.

Meeting his gaze at once, Caterine began inching up the skirt of her camise. Slowly, casually, and as naturally as she could.

"Can we not sit here for a while?" she asked. "I could not sleep."

He cocked a brow, but came deeper into the window embrasure, settling himself on the opposite facing seat... just as she'd hoped he would.

"To admire the night sky, hmmmm?" His voice held a trace of amusement, but he turned dutifully toward the windows and, the instant he did, Caterine quickly curled her legs beneath her... and hitched her camise's skirt to her knees.

Just high enough so that if she shifted her position, and parted her thighs a bit when doing so, her raised hem would pull taut and give him an innocently exposed glimpse of the thick pelt of golden curls between her legs.

He twisted back around. "Did you truly wake me to sit here and peer at the—by the Rood!" He stared transfixed at her exposed womanhood.

"Lady, I am no monk and what I am staring at pushes me Past restraint," he said, his heated gaze not budging. "Are— you—aware—of—what—I—can—see?"

"I am, sir," she said, her boldness sending streaks of white-hot excitement shooting through her. "I told you
\
wish to explore all manner of intimacies and I thought it might be wise to... to get accustomed to one another through
looking
before ... before—"

"You wish for us to sit here and stare at each other between the legs?"

His blunt words enflamed the pulsing heat low by her thighs and weighted her belly. "It would help me overcome my hesitancy to ... to—in truth, sir, I think it would be titillating."

"Indeed." He still hadn't torn his gaze from her. "But I must warn you, if we do this, I will do more than look."

"Can we begin?" Caterine breathed, the anticipation of testing her daring, the pleasure already trickling through her, almost too exhilarating to bear. "I would see you as well." "Woman, you may unman me this night." With all speed, he shoved down his braies and kicked them aside.

"So!" He perched on the edge of the seat. "There you have me, my lady. What is your will?"

"I just want to look at you," Caterine whispered, scarce
able to breathe.

"At ease or fully charged?" He lowered his hand to his groin, his fingers just grazing his already-engorged manhood. "If you prefer the former, I cannot maintain such a
state for long."

"I would like to see both...
conditions,
please."

He lifted a brow. "First relaxed?"

She nodded, a rash of delicious tingles spreading across her woman's flesh as he curled his hand around his swollen shaft. He squeezed until his arousal ebbed. "As you wished," he said, opening his knees so his shaft, long and thick, hung fully exposed for her perusal.

"Mind you, it is against nature for a man to remain flaccid with a woman's heat pulsing so near," he said after a few minutes, his voice thick, his tarse already swelling anew. "I would pleasure you now ... and look on you as I do so."

"Sir?" Her eyes flew wide, a bit of her bravura slipping now that he'd wrested control from her. "But..."

"Never you mind, sweeting," he murmured, dropping to his knees before her. "Just open your legs and relax."

That
part of her pulsed with mounting urgency, cresting almost unbearably when he spread her knees wider and began lightly stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs.

"Easy, sweet." He eased her legs even wider apart. "Breathe deep and simply feel what I am doing to you."

He toyed with her intimate curls, cupped the whole of her, massaging her with his palm, then trailed one finger along the cleft of her mound.

"Does this please you, Caterine?" He began stroking her cleft in earnest, tracing its pouty length with slow, lazy strokes. "Shall I keep touching you this way?" "Aye," she gasped, her voice ragged.
"Please."
"Then open your legs as wide as you can," he encouraged her. "I want to see and touch all of you."

Another little gasp escaped her and she scooted forward until her bottom rested on the very edge of the seat, her hips rocking in a silent plea more eloquent than any spoken words.

"Be still," he said, pressing his palm flush against her neat. "You will enjoy this more if you remain perfectly still... and open."

She moaned this time and shut her eyes, finally letting herself completely relax. Holding his swollen shaft with one hand, he used the other to pleasure her. He still traced her cleft, but now explored each pouty fold, gently rubbing, plucking, and toying with her until she cried out her need, "is own release surging near, he breathed deep of her arousal, sating himself on her musky, woman's scent, and tightening his hold on his shaft. He began pulling on its thickness, discreetly easing his own need, even as he toyed ever more deliberately with her damp nether curls and heated sleekness. His own ease breaking, he circled one finger over the tight, swollen bud of her sex, his focused rubbing sending her the same shattering fulfillment.

"Oh, dear saints," she breathed, and fell back, completely limp, against the seat cushions.

His own body spent, Marmaduke slid his arms around her hips, resting his head against the soft warmth of her inner thigh. Her intimate curls teased his cheek, and her pulsing heat, sweet and musky, proved such a temptation, he nestled closer until he could not only inhale deeply of her scent, but caress her very cleft with each exhaled breath.

Aroused anew, he touched his tongue to her.

The merest lapping at her sweetness.

Not licks, but simple touches of the very tip of his tongue to her tender flesh, and so light he doubted she noticed, but sheer intoxicating to him. For truth, the lady slept. As would he... soon.