Loving Lies (4 page)

“My Lady? Am I not your wife?” Willow peered up into his dark eyes as night fell around them but this merely increased the sense of romance, of desire and all thoughts of their companions were forgotten.

“You are my wife,” Donovan answered coarsely, his breath shallow, all thought fading to a point below his belt buckle, the one Willow was slowly unravelling. “But you do not remember our nuptials. I do not expect…”

Willow wasn’t listening; she didn’t care for his words as she dropped slowly to her knees. The hard shaft her hands had discovered explained his every thought.

“My Lord husband, I believe you still love me.”

Donovan groaned loudly as the wetness of her mouth devoured him, her soft tongue caressing his length and his hands found her hair, holding her to him as he endured the sweet passion her mouth encouraged. With a gasp, unable to bear it any longer, he urged her to her feet, his mouth finding hers and lifting her into his arms. With a wave of a hand, a soft blanket appeared, covering the leafy floor as he knelt, the woman still in his arms. She lay looking up in surprise, awaiting her husband’s touch.

“Are you certain, my Lady?” he asked, still unsure, still unable to believe her show of longing.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, my Lord husband.”

With another wave of his hand, her clothing was gone and she lay naked before his dark eyes. A faint smile touched his lips but it was soon gone as he bent his head to taste the softness of her breasts, his tongue flicking over the nipples blossoming beneath his touch. A low moan escaped Willow’s lips; she should stop him, should stop herself but the actions of his tongue, his lips, were too delightful. She didn’t remember him but her body did and her thighs opened in response to his movement.

A flow of white blue energy flowed around them, building higher as their passion ignited. Willow stared at it in delight -- surely this was a sign of their love?

“Are you sure, Willow?” Donovan asked again, as he moved over the beautiful, sexy body laid out before him like a feast for his eyes, his body, his soul.

“I think I will die if you don’t love me,” Willow sighed, her hands about his shoulders urging him closer. No man needed more invitation than that and Donovan had not the power to refuse. He’d spent too many nights dreaming of her, remembering the love they’d shared for too short a time and his hand slid down her body; over the curve of her hip to the place she beckoned him. She was warm and wet, his finger sliding easily inside as her hips rose in time to his movement.

“More,” she cried, her voice a whisper, but he didn’t mistake the command. She was ready for him; she needed more.

Her whimper was a thankful cry as he pushed slowly into her body, as he waited for her pleading to stop, but her arms moving around his neck, her mouth seeking his, gave no sign of wanting him to stop.

He drove on, his body taking command as his pent-up emotions soared through his heart, his soul. She was the only woman he’d ever truly loved and if this was to be the last, the only time he could bury himself in her, he wanted it to be the best either of them had ever had. She moved with him, under him, taking her cue from his rhythm. She clung to him, kissing his lips, his face, as though she would never let him loose. She cried out as he tensed, his love for her emptying into the softness of her body. Blue light surrounded them, sparkling out like an explosion of colour joining together, never to be torn apart again.

Chapter Seven

“Seven days?” Willow sighed, as she lay in his arms. “We did that for seven days?”

Donovan chuckled low and deep, his hand reaching out to caress the nipple within his sight. She moaned as he gently squeezed the bud between his fingers, remembering how much she loved it.

“Well, it was a little longer than that.”

“But…I thought you said…” her words were a question.

“You were not pure when we married.” He looked down into her shocked expression, those blue eyes wide and her red lips slightly agape. “We celebrated our nuptials a little early,” Donovan grinned wickedly into her face as it reddened beneath his gaze.

“How did we meet?”

“I first saw you at a ball your mother had commissioned; she was looking for a husband.”
“For me?”

“For herself,” Donovan laughed, this time colder, darker. “Her last, Lord Valentine, had perished under unexplained conditions although few were surprised. No man lived long under the Queen’s eye if he displeased her.”

“She doesn’t sound very nice. Am I like her?”

“No, you are nothing like her. You are lightness to her dark, joy to her sorrow. My first sight was you standing at the top of the stairs, looking so alone, so frightened. No one else noticed you; the Queen demanded exquisite attention but I met you halfway as you travelled down those stairs and knew when my hand touched yours that you were my only love.”

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember you, but kissing you, touching you feels so right. I…” Willow paused; she couldn’t say the words. It was all too soon. She couldn’t love this man, he was a stranger, but hadn’t she just given him everything? How could she not love him?

“I hate to interrupt and I’m not peeking, but we have company,” The cat swished his black tail. “Lord Colson says if you don’t come pronto, he’s going to kill the humans.”

A wave of Donovan’s hand had them both clothed as he offered a hand to help Willow up. They would face Colson together.

“My Lord Donovan, how superb to meet with you and your lovely wife.” The man wasn’t tall, wasn’t handsome to Willow’s eyes. Lord Colson smiled with a grin that reminded her of a snake waiting to strike. “My dearest Willow, we believed you were dead. It’s a shame the rumours were false.”

“Colson,” Willow muttered coldly, her eyes narrowed as she refused to take the hand offered. Colson recognised the snub and lowered his hand, his left eye twitching with displeasure.

“I have been waiting here while you rutted in the dirt with your husband,” he stated, a dry smile crossing his wet lips. “Donovan has been impatient to renew his acquaintance with you, but your Lord husband has other duties to attend.”
“My duties…” Donovan began but a wave of Colson’s hand and the stench of sulphur kept him silent. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t respond and no one there would be any the wiser to his plight. No one recognised the spell coating Donovan’s head and he was unable to fight its effects.

“Be silent, Donovan, you have done enough today,” Colson grinned wider, disdain flashing in his cold eyes. “I’m grateful for your assistance in returning my dear cousin to me. I could never have done it without you.”

“Donovan?” Willow turned her head to stare into her husband’s eyes but he didn’t, couldn’t look back and made no effort to dispute Colson’s words. Had this been his objective all along?

“Your husband was eager to prove his fealty, offering an oath to restore you to your family and the obligations of your position.” Colson watched the pain rush over Willow’s pretty face. It was a pity she was blood to him, or he may have considered her as console to his throne.

“I can’t believe…”

“No one asked you, cat.” A uniformed soldier raised his sword at the black cat swishing its tail in anger, but Fluffy knew better than to push his luck.

“So the rumours are true. A pity.” A tall woman, dressed in a splendid long red velvet gown, approached them from a dizzying white spiral of power. She was slim almost to the point of starvation, pale thin hands poking out from the ends of ornate sleeves, her face gaunt and sallow beneath the thick layering of cosmetics. Her hair, long and dark, hung like a thick curtain over her shoulders.

“You must be my mother,” Willow stepped forward, away from the man who had surely betrayed her. The title of warlock was apt. If only she’d realised it before he’d stolen away her heart.

“Unfortunately,” the Queen muttered coldly as she gazed on her only child. “Garion, I should have realised. Why couldn’t you have stayed in your own little world?”

“Willow is my daughter too,” Garion moved forward, his arm stretching around Willow’s shoulder as she fought to keep her tears from escaping.

“Don’t remind me,” Felicity spat. “But I’m not here to discuss past mistakes. My only reason for venturing to this dismal place is to declare that the Gathering will be held here, tomorrow at midnight. Willow will face her cousin, Colson and the encounter will decide my successor.”

“Your Majesty,” Colson bowed low, a smirk on his face. He bowed once more before Willow. “Until tomorrow night, my dearest cousin. I look forward to your death. Donovan, you will attend me.”

Garion’s strong arm around Willow’s shoulders prevented her from following the man who had claimed her, as he meekly trailed after her cousin, her enemy.

“I don’t understand,” Willow muttered for the millionth time. She didn’t understand any of it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but the loss of that powerful man, her husband, cut deeply into her soul - so much she knew she bled inside. “I thought he loved me.”

“There are many things you don’t understand, my Lady and it is our task to right those wrongs, but understand one thing, here, now and forever… Lord Donovan loves you, he can’t help himself,” the cat, now a man clad in the darkest of green, stood confidently before her and his dark hand reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek. “He loves you.”
“Yes, Nicodemus, Lord Donovan can no more help where his heart lives than any of us,” a woman’s voice, cool and husky floated through the air and Willow caught sight of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was tall and elegant with a slim figure clad in a diaphanous silver gown, the long lines of her legs almost visible beneath. Her hair, long and the colour of soft summer rain, which cascaded over her shoulders, almost to her thighs and with a life of its own as it swished appealingly with the movement of her stride. Her arms were bare, exposing silky creamy skin and fine delicate hands.

“My Lady Melodia,” Nico bowed low with evident delight, his eyes never leaving the enchanting vision breezing effortlessly toward them.

“It has been too long, my dearest Nicodemus,” she smiled, the sight of the man warming her soul.

“Four long years, my Lady,” Nico smiled back, a cat’s grin but he knew the lady appreciated the gesture. She had a thing about cats.

“A job well done since the Lady Willow is safe and well,” Melodia bent her head low. “You will not remember me, my Lady, if the spell I gave your father worked as it should, but be assured I had nothing but your well-being at heart. Garion, it is good to see you once more and Helen you also.”

“Apt timing, my lady,” Nico grinned wider. “The Queen has declared the Gathering commence
s t
omorrow. Lady Willow still has no memory of her abilities and will face Lord Colson at midnight.”

“Then it is fortunate I am here.”

Chapter Eight

“No, my Lady, move your hand like this.” Nicodemus shook his hand in a graceful manner but no matter how many times Willow tried, she couldn’t master it.

“I can’t do it,” Willow sighed dramatically, flouncing away to sit at the bottom of an oak tree, her knees drawn up to her chest. Where was Donovan and how fair was it that she should miss him so much, especially after he’d left without even a glance back?

“You can do it,” Melodia sat down, a calm expression on her exquisite face and deep knowledge in her grey eyes. “You have done it; you can do it once more.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t beat Colson. Why couldn’t you people just have left me alone? Who are you anyway?”

“You and I were companions as children and I sent Nicodemus to watch over you since I never liked Colson.”

“I wish I’d never heard of the Kingdom,” Willow sighed.

“Would you have preferred not remembering your husband?” Melodia couldn’t fail to notice the spark in the other woman’s eyes, the flash of regal rage.

“He’s the worst one of all,” Willow snarled, hands waving furiously in the air, a faint trail of a white-blue fire following her movements like the bow wave of a boat. “I should have trusted my instincts. He was a player, a user, and I should have known better. I fell for all his shameless tricks and I … well… we… well. I’m not telling you what we did but we shouldn’t have…I can’t believe I…well… all that nonsense about moonlight and a wedding at midnight…I fell for it, I really did… I never want to see him again. What’s that on my hand?”

“That is your power, my Lady Willow.” Melodia explained, a soft smile caressing her lips as Willow lifted her hand, the light trailing like a well-trained snake.

“I’ve seen this before, when I touched Donovan, when we …. Well, I’ve seen it before. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes it is,” Melodia smiled as Willow moved her hand this way and that fascinated by the movement of the flame on her skin. It didn’t hurt, didn’t burn, but simply moved as though part of her.

“He left me. I loved him, I let him love me and yet he walked away without a glance. How could any man be so cruel?” Willow’s tears escaped her eyes, extinguishing the blue flame, which only added to her distress.

“I cannot answer that but I can tell you Lord Donovan is a kind, noble man who would no more wish hurt on you than burn in the pits of fire. Sleep now; we will practise more when it is light. Melodia stood, brushing dried leaves from her gown before leaving Willow alone in the night.

Morning came too quickly. The night had been dark and soulless and Willow couldn’t forget the man she knew she loved. Pain in her chest, tears falling from her eyes, kept her from the rest she needed. She was more tired now than she had been the previous night.

“You didn’t sleep,” Helen stated, handing her a bowl of ripe fruit and a mug of sweet tea. Willow nodded her thanks, placing the food on the ground beside her. “You look awful.”

“Well, thanks
, H
elen,” Willow snapped, most unlike herself. “I’ve been
li
ed to for seven years by people I trusted, acquired a husband who had abandoned me and tonight I have to battle with a cousin I didn’t know I had, for a kingdom I didn’t know existed, although I don’t want anything to do with any of it. I’d say that would make anyone look a little awful.”

“Oh, Willow, I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Helen hesitated, “I know this can’t be easy for you but we did the very best we could. We thought Donovan was dead.”

“He is dead to me now because I’ve seen his true worth,” Willow brushed a hand through her tangled hair. “He came back only so he could betray me to my cousin. I don’t have a hope of defeating Colson and we all know it.”

“You mustn’t talk like that,” Helen protested but she knew, as Willow did that without her memory, without the knowledge of her past life, she couldn’t defeat the rival for her mother’s throne.

The day was spent in pointless practise but Willow, despite the emergence of that strange blue flame, was unable to perform any mastery of magic either to defend herself or to attack Colson. The smouldering ends of Fluffy’s tail was the only product of the day’s efforts as Willow slumped defeated to the leafy ground at the base of her favourite tree. Within moments, her eyes were closed in exhausted slumber, the only peace she’d known in two days. Her arms were crossed over her chest as though she wished it were someone else who held her.

“This is futile,” Nico rose from the black cat form, his dark face pained, his eyes cast over the woman’s sleeping body before glancing to Melodia’s serious expression, the truth dancing in the silence she offered.

“We could take her away from here, hide her and let Colson have the crown,” Helen offered, her eyes full of the knowledge of Willow’s certain death. Colson would be cruel in his combat.

“You cannot. It is not only Lady Willow’s life in danger. Colson has promised Donovan’s death should she flee,” Melodia told them all.

“Who cares about him? He left her. She hates him,” Helen spat.

“She doesn’t hate him,” Garion stepped in with a father’s awareness. “We couldn’t do that to her again. She’d never forgive us.”

“But she’ll die, you know that. We can’t allow that to happen,” Helen sobbed, her voice breaking as the truth soaked through.

“We have to trust the Lady,” Nico bent his head so none could see the fear etched in his cat-green eyes. “Her power is dazzling, stronger than anything Colson can invoke. We must trust she’ll remember everything she needs.”