Epic Historial Collection (104 page)

“Don't marry him,” Jack said.

“I must.”

“You'll be miserable.”

“I'm miserable now.”

“Look at me, please?”

She turned to face him and raised her eyes.

“Please tell me why you're doing this,” he said.

“Why should I?”

“Because of the way you kissed me in the old mill.”

She dropped her gaze and felt herself blush hotly. She had let herself down that day and had been ashamed of herself ever since. Now he was using it against her. She said nothing. She had no defense.

He said: “After that, you turned cold.”

She kept her gaze lowered.

“We were such friends,” he went on remorselessly. “All that summer, in your glade, by the waterfall…my stories…we were so happy. I kissed you there, once. Do you remember?”

She did remember, of course, although she had been pretending to herself that it never happened. Now the memory melted her heart, and she looked at him with tearful eyes.

“Then I made the mill do your felting,” he said. “I was so pleased that I could help you in your business. You were thrilled when you saw it. Then we kissed again, but that wasn't a little kiss, like the first one. This time it was…passionate.” Oh, God, yes, it was, she thought, and she blushed again, and began to breathe fast; and wished he would stop, but he would not. “We held each other very tight. We kissed for a long time. You opened your mouth—”

“Stop!” she cried.

“Why?” he said brutally. “What's wrong with it? Why did you turn cold?”

“Because I'm frightened!” she said without thinking, and she burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. A moment later she felt his hands on her heaving shoulders. She did nothing, and after a while he gently enfolded her in his arms. She took her hands from her face and cried on his green tunic.

After a while she put her arms around his waist.

He laid his cheek on her hair—her ugly, short, shapeless hair, not yet grown back after the fire—and stroked her back as if she were a baby. She wanted to stay like that forever. But he pulled away from her so that he could look at her, and he said: “Why does it make you frightened?”

She knew, but she could not tell him. She shook her head and took a step back; but he held her wrists, keeping her near.

“Listen, Aliena,” he said. “I want you to know how terrible this has been for me. You seemed to love me, then you seemed to hate me, and now you're going to marry my stepbrother. I don't understand. I don't know anything about these things, I've never been in love before. It's all so
hurtful
. I can't find words for how bad it is. Don't you think you should at least try to explain to me why I have to go through this?”

She felt full of remorse. To think that she had hurt him so badly when she loved him so much. She was ashamed of the way she had treated him. He had done nothing but kind things to her and she had ruined his life. He was entitled to an explanation. She steeled herself. “Jack, something happened to me a long time ago, something truly awful, something I've made myself forget for years. I wanted never to think of it again, but when you kissed me like that it all came back to me, and I couldn't stand it.”

“What was it? What was the thing that happened?”

“After my father was imprisoned, we lived in the castle, Richard and I and a servant called Matthew; and one night William Hamleigh came and threw us out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And?”

“They killed poor Matthew.”

He knew she was not telling him the whole truth. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did they kill your servant?”

“Because he was trying to stop them.” Tears were streaming down her face now, and her throat felt constricted every time she tried to speak, as if the words were choking her. She shook her head helplessly, and tried to turn away, but Jack would not let her go.

In a voice as gentle as a kiss he said: “Stop them from doing what?”

Suddenly she knew she could tell him, and it all came out in a rush. “They forced me,” she said. “The groom held me down, and William got on top of me, but still I wouldn't let him, and then they cut off a piece of Richard's ear, and they said they would cut him more.” She was sobbing with relief now, grateful beyond expression that at last she could say it. She looked into Jack's eyes and said: “So I opened my legs, and William did it to me, while the groom forced Richard to watch.”

“I'm so sorry,” Jack whispered. “I heard rumors, but I never thought…Dear Aliena, how could they?”

She had to tell him everything. “Then, when William had done it to me, the groom did it too.”

Jack closed his eyes. His face was white and taut.

Aliena said: “And then, you see, when you and I kissed, I wanted you to do it, and that made me think of William and his groom; and I felt so horrible, and frightened, and I ran away. That's why I was so mean to you, and made you miserable. I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he whispered. He drew her to him, and she let him put his arms around her again. It was so comforting.

She felt him shudder. Anxiously she said: “Do I disgust you?”

He looked at her. “I adore you,” he said. He bent his head and kissed her mouth.

She froze. This was not what she wanted. He pulled away a little, then kissed her again. The touch of his lips on hers was very soft. Feeling grateful, and friendly toward him, she pursed her lips, just a little, then relaxed them again, in a faint echo of his kiss. Encouraged, he moved his lips against hers again. She could feel his breath warm on her face. He opened his mouth a fraction. She pulled away quickly.

He looked hurt. “Is it that bad?”

In truth, she was no longer as frightened as she had been. She had told him the horrible truth about herself and he had not recoiled in disgust; in fact, he was as tender and kind as ever. She tilted her head and he kissed her again. This was not scary. There was nothing threatening, nothing violently uncontrollable, no force or hatred or dominance; just the reverse. This kiss was a shared pleasure.

His lips parted and she felt the tip of his tongue. She went taut. He teased her lips apart. She relaxed again. He sucked gently at her lower lip. She felt a little dizzy.

He said: “Would you do what you did last time?”

“What did I do?”

“I'll show you. Open your mouth, just a little.”

She did as he said, and she felt his tongue again, touching her lips, passing between her parted teeth, and probing into her mouth until he found her own tongue. She pulled away.

“There,” he said. “That's what you did.”

“Did I?” She was shocked.

“Yes.” He smiled, then suddenly he looked solemn. “If you would only do it again, that would make up for all the sorrow of the last nine months.”

She tilted her face again and closed her eyes. After a moment she felt his mouth on hers. She opened her lips, hesitated, then nervously pushed her tongue into his mouth. As she did so she remembered how she had felt the last time she did it, in the old mill, and that ecstatic sensation came back. She was filled with the need to hold him, to touch his skin and his hair, to feel his muscles and his bones, to be inside him and have him inside her. Her tongue met his, and instead of feeling embarrassed and faintly repelled, she was thrilled to be doing something so intimate as touching his tongue with her own.

They were both breathing hard now. Jack held her head in his hands. She stroked his arms, his back, and then his hips, feeling the taut, bunched muscles. Her heart pounded in her chest. At last she broke the kiss, breathless.

She looked at him. He was flushed and panting, and his face shone with desire. After a moment he bent forward again, but instead of kissing her mouth, he lifted her chin and kissed the delicate skin of her throat. She heard herself moan with pleasure. He moved his head lower, and brushed his lips over the swell of her breast. Her nipples were swollen under the coarse fabric of the linen nightshirt, and they felt unbearably tender. His lips closed over one nipple. She felt the heat of his breath on her skin. “Gently,” she whispered fearfully. He kissed her nipple through the linen, and although he was as gentle as could be, she felt a sensation of pleasure as sharp as if he had bitten her, and she gasped.

Then he went down on his knees in front of her.

He pressed his face into her lap. Until this moment all the sensation had been in her breasts, but now, suddenly, she felt the tingling move to her groin. He found the hem of her nightshirt and lifted it to her waist. She watched him, afraid of his reaction: she had always felt ashamed of being so hairy down there. But he was not repelled; in fact he leaned forward and kissed her gently, right there, as if it was the nicest thing in the world.

She sank down on her knees in front of him. Her breath came in gasps now, as if she had run a mile. She wanted him badly. Her throat was dry with desire. She put her hands on his knees, then slid one hand under his tunic. She had never touched a man's cock. It was hot and dry and hard as a board. Jack closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat as she explored its length with her fingertips. She lifted his tunic, bent down, and kissed it, just as he had kissed her, a gentle brush of the lips. Its end was swollen tight as a drum and wet with some kind of moisture.

She was suddenly possessed by a desire to show him her breasts. She came upright again. He opened his eyes. Watching him, she quickly pulled her nightshirt over her head and discarded it. Now she was completely naked. She felt sharply self-conscious, but it was a good feeling, delightfully indecent. Jack stared, mesmerized, at her breasts. “They're so beautiful,” he said.

“Do you really think so?” she said. “I always thought they were too big.”

“Too big!” he said as if the suggestion were outrageous. He reached out and touched her left breast with his right hand. He stroked her skin gently with his fingertips. She looked down, watching what he was doing. After a while she wanted him to be firmer. She took both his hands in hers and pressed them to her breasts. “Do it harder,” she said hoarsely. “I want to feel you more.”

Her words inflamed him. He squeezed her breasts, then took her nipples in his fingers and pinched them, just hard enough to hurt a little. The sensation drove her wild. All thought went out of her mind and she was completely possessed by the feel of his body and her own. “Take off your clothes,” she said. “I want to look at you.”

He pulled off his tunic and his undershirt, his boots and his hose, and knelt in front of her again. His red hair was drying into undisciplined curls. His body was thin and white, with bony shoulders and hips. He looked wiry and agile, young and fresh. His cock stuck up like a tree out of the auburn hair of his groin. Suddenly she wanted to kiss his chest. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his flat male nipples. They puckered, just as hers had. She sucked at them gently, wanting him to have the same pleasure he had given her. He stroked her hair.

She wanted him inside her, quickly.

She could see that he was not sure what to do next. “Jack,” she said. “Are you a virgin?”

He nodded, looking a little foolish.

“I'm glad,” she said fervently. “I'm so glad.”

She took his hand and put it between her legs. She was swollen and sensitive there, and his touch was like a shock. “Feel me,” she said. He moved his fingers, exploring. “Feel inside,” she said. Hesitantly, he pushed a finger inside her. She was slippery with desire. “There,” she said with a sigh of satisfaction. “That's where it has to go.” She detached his hand and lay back in the straw.

He lay over her, supporting himself on one elbow, and kissed her mouth. She felt him enter her a little way, then stop. “What is it?” she said.

“It feels too small,” he said. “I'm afraid of hurting you.”

“Push harder,” she said. “I want you so much I don't care if it hurts.”

She felt him push. It did hurt, more than she had expected, but only for a moment, and then she felt wonderfully filled. She looked at him. He withdrew a little and pushed again, and she pushed back. She smiled at him. “I never knew it was so nice,” she said wonderingly. He closed his eyes, as if the happiness was too much to bear.

He began to move rhythmically. The constant strokes set up a pulse of pleasure somewhere in her groin. She heard herself give little gasps of excitement every time their bodies came together. He lowered himself so that his chest was touching her nipples and she could feel his hot breath. She dug her fingers into his hard back. Her regular gasps turned into cries. Suddenly she needed to kiss him. She buried her hands in his curls and pulled his head to hers. She kissed his lips hard, then thrust her tongue into his mouth and moved faster and faster. Having his cock in her cunt and her tongue in his mouth drove her out of her mind with pleasure. She felt a great spasm of joy shake her, so violent that it was like falling off a horse and hitting the ground. It made her cry out loud. She opened her eyes and looked into his eyes and said his name, and then another wave took her, and another; and then she felt his body convulse, and he cried out too, and she felt a hot jet spurt inside her, and that inflamed her even more, so that she shook with pleasure again and again, so many times that she lost count, until at last the feeling began to fade, and gradually she went limp and still.