For Love of the Earl (12 page)

"'Haps if you give him some attention, he will wake up in good time," Sven said, snapping the door shut in her face.
 

Sarah stood for a moment, feeling the rain running off her body.
 
She watched the light flicker through the holes in the door as the men moved around outside.
 
The horse nudged her back.
 
She swung around, sending droplets of water flying off her skirts.
 
She pushed the horse out of her way.
 

"Oh, calm down, you silly animal."
 
Sarah patted his nose and scooted around him.
 

Alec lay on the ground where she had left him.
 
His lips were still that cruel blue, but his chest rose and fell in steady breaths.
 
She stood above him and wrung her hands.
 
She stopped when she realized her gloves were missing.
 
Her hands were freezing, red and raw.
 
She looked down at Alec.
 
His skin wasn't red.
 
Just cold and lifeless.

Sarah dropped to her knees again.
 
Her hands fluttered once helplessly in the air above Alec's chest before they dropped.
 
Her fingers crawled over the fabric of his shirt, unconsciously finding the buttons.
 
She slipped one from its hole, then another and another.
 
She watched her fingers go beneath the shirt.
 
The shocking coldness of his skin made her jerk when her fingers made contract with his chest.
 

'Haps if you give him some attention.

Sarah drew her hand back.
 

"Alec?" she whispered and then wondered why she'd whispered.
 

She brushed his dripping hair off his forehead, but the lock fell back into place.
 

And then Sarah leaned over and put her lips to his.
 
Softly, at first.
 
Why softly, she did not know.
 
But there was something about Alec unconscious that made him seem so vulnerable that it scared her.
 
So she was gentle, but the feel of Alec's lips reminded her of another kiss, a harder kiss, a kiss of frustrated love and relieved fear.
 
And then she was kissing him more deeply, willing him to respond as she increased the pressure on his mouth.
 

But he didn't respond.
 

So she hit him.
 
Hard.
 
On the chest.
 
The thud of her fist slamming into him echoed through the thatched hut.
   

"Goddamn you!
 
Wake up!"
 

She was crying.
 
When had she started crying?
 
Why couldn't she stop?
 

"Alec?"
 
She kissed him.
 
"Alec?"
 
She kissed him again.
 
"Please, God, Alec, wake up!"
 

She stood and started ripping at her sodden dress.
 
Body heat.
 
Her body heat would warm him.
 
The wet material wouldn't cooperate, and her body heaved with wracking sobs.
 
She heard something rip, and the dress finally fell to the ground.
 
She fought with her chemise as she knelt, straddling Alec's hips.
 
With the chemise free, she started on Alec's shirt, her cold fingers moved quickly over the tiny buttons, startling her in their dexterity.
 
Finally, the material fell to either side, and she could spread her hands across the broad expense of his chest, her fingers curling in the fine dusting of dark hair.
 

"Alec?
 
Alec?
 
Can you hear me?"
 
She leaned down and kissed him again, harder, longer kisses.
 
"Alec, please wake up."
 

She scooted back and went to work on his trousers.
 
The wet material wouldn't budge, and she couldn't lift him to work the stubborn garment down his legs.
 
So she scooted back up and fell down on his chest, her bare breasts crushing against him as she landed on her elbows.
 
She took his head between her hands and bruised her lips as she kissed him yet again.
 
She thought she felt a flicker of movement in him, but she cried so hard and kissed him so hard, she wasn't sure who was moving and who wasn't.
 

"Alec, Alec, Alec," she murmured against his mouth.
 
"Alec, I need you."
 

Alec's hand at the back of her head made her jump, but his grip tightened and held her mouth against his.
 
His other arm moved around, pinning her solidly against him.
 
Her hips ground against him as she struggled to free herself from his embrace.
 
She hadn't thought about him waking up and seeing her like she was, and she was suddenly terrified, vulnerable, insecure.
 

But now Alec had taken over.
 
He had gone from unconscious to fully awake apparently from just her kiss.
 
She wondered at the power she held, but she thought of all the rumors, the stories, and knew it wasn't her that held the power.
 
It was her sex that held the power, and Sarah had nothing to do with that.
 
She was just another woman.
 
Any woman could have woken Alec.
 

But not every woman would respond the way Sarah responded.
 
Attempting to escape, to get away from him, to not feel so frightened that he was going to realize whom he was kissing so passionately and then stop.
 
But he had kissed her like this once before.
 
He had kissed her with abandon, had taken her to heights she didn't know existed.
 

And then he had left.
 

A scream started in her throat, and she wrenched away from him.
 
But Alec rolled, keeping his arms around her as he tucked her beneath him.
 
His mouth assailed hers, and it kept her from withdrawing from the moment.
 
It kept her from blocking out what was happening, from feeling what was happening.

From feeling that her blood was heating, racing.
 
That her skin was far from cold, and she thought she may even burst into flames at any moment.
 
The feel of his callused hands moving up the sides of her body, over her stomach, around to her back, brushing the undersides of her breasts, but never quite touching where she wanted to be touched.
 

Her legs came up, wrapping around his hips.
 
Her back arched as his hands skimmed her breast again, but his fingers wouldn't come any closer to the spot that ached for his touch.
 
She clawed at his back and pushed on his shoulder as if to steer him.
 

"Easy, love," he whispered in her ear, "easy."
 

She did scream then, but it came out choked as his palm finally closed over her nipple, and delicious pain spiked through her.
 
She thought she heard him laugh, but he was doing things to her neck and nipple and her- Oh, God, she didn't know what was going on.
 

She pulled her arms back and shoved against his chest.
 
He didn't move.
 
He laughed again and bit down gently on her earlobe.
 
She jerked as her stomach muscles clenched.
 

And then she realized he was warm.
 
He was more than warm.
 
He was sweating, his chest heaving as he drew in deep breaths of air.
 
She moved her hands, and they slipped across the sweat slicked, tight muscles of his stomach.
 
Her hands slipped lower than she intended and ended up fumbling with the loosened fastenings of his trousers.
 
She didn't hear Alec's sharp intake of breath, because her fingers had found...him.

And he was much too big.
 

Huge, really.
 

And now she was truly frightened.
 

She had thought the stories she had heard had been exaggerated or at least touched up a bit.
 
But if anything, the stories hadn't even come close to the truth.
 
And Sarah was worried he was not going to fit.

"Alec," she sucked in air as she pushed at his shoulders.

"Shhh, it's all right, Sarah," Alec nuzzled her ear, and she felt his hands moving where hers had just been.
 
She bucked against him to throw him off, but Alec pressed against her, stilling her.
 
Alec's mouth was on hers again, and she couldn't form a protest.
 
Hell, she couldn't even form a thought as his tongue invaded her mouth.
 
But his mouth tore away much too soon, and the protest that left her lips was not the one she had previously thought to say.
 

"Alec, please don't stop."
 

The breathy, fragile quality of her voice reinforced her fear, but she tightened her legs around him. She wanted this, she wanted this so much.
 
And if Alec were thinking clearly, when Alec was thinking clearly, he wouldn't touch her like this, he wouldn't kiss her like this, he wouldn't make her feel like this.
 
This was her one chance, and she was going to take, take as much as possible and give him her whole heart, because he already held it in his hands.
 
She wasn't going to take it back now.
 
She couldn't take it back now.
 

But when Alec entered her, the pleasure that had been all consuming moments before was suddenly gone as if someone had thrown a bucket of water on her.
 

Alec groaned and buried his head into the side of her neck.
 

"God, Sarah, I need you," he whispered fiercely.
   

Sarah bit her lower lip and tilted her hips to bring him more fully into her.
 
She felt filled, full, and shadows of pain twitched where her muscles had clenched before.
 
But Alec needed her, so she held on as he pounded into her, she held on as tears seeped from her closed eyes.
 
She didn't feel the hard ground digging into her back.
 
She didn't feel the cold drafts passing over her exposed skin through the holes in the hut.
 

There was only Alec, and right now, she thought, that for him, there may be only her.
 
And more tears seeped from her eyes.
 

Alec stiffened and collapsed on top of her.
 
Sarah turned her head away from him when she couldn't stop the tears.
 
She tasted the blood as her teeth split her lower lip.
 

But she held onto Alec as his heartbeat slowed, as his muscles relaxed, as she whispered.
 

"I need you, too."
 

~

Somewhere, he wasn't really sure and didn't really care

A few days ago or something

There was dirt in his mouth, along with a sizable chunk of Sarah's hair.
 
But he didn't move his head.
 
He didn't even think about moving his head.
 
Too many things, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too many emotions coursed through his body for him to think about ordering his muscles to move his head off the ground.
 
That was asking far too much of his muddled brain at the moment.
 

He had just made love to his wife.
 

Sarah.

He had just made love to Sarah.
 

And he really couldn't remember it.
 

He remembered being strapped to the top of the carriage.
 
He remembered going along with it because he was terrified that they would hurt Sarah if he didn't comply.
 
He remembered the rain, how it pierced his clothing as if he weren't wearing anything at all, how he had been numb within minutes, how he hadn't felt the bumps, hadn't felt how they tore his muscles in directions they did not want to go, after the first three or four.
 

He had watched the rain fall.
 
He had kept his eyes open as the drops pelted him.
 
He had been thinking.
 
Thinking about what was going on in the carriage below him.
 
Thinking about what he was going to do when they released him.
 
Which man he was going to kill first.
 
If he was going to simply kill them.
 
Killing them seemed too easy.
 
He wanted them to suffer.
 
Thinking of ways to make them suffer had kept his eyes open for hours.

And he had been listening.
 
Listening for any sounds from the carriage below.
 
He had thought it likely that he could break his bonds if he had heard one noise from Sarah.
 
Just one noise and he would have shredded the ropes that bound him, taken out the driver, and commandeered the carriage.
 
But Sarah hadn't made any noises.
 
In fact he had suspected he had heard a laugh a time or too.
 
So he hadn't shredded his bindings in pure rage and taken over the carriage.
 
He needed to see where they were taking them, who was behind this and stop whoever that was.
 

So he had lain in the rain, his muscles pulling, straining, as the carriage raced through the dark.
 
He had frozen in layers.
 
First his skin had seemed to disappear.
 
Then his blood must have chilled because the iciness was spreading in waves through his body, transferring from organ to organ.
 
Then the cold had struck his bones, and the iciness spread in tremors, chills that wracked his body, made him buck against his restraints, pulling his muscles when the movement of the carriage demanded that he push.