Master of Craving (35 page)

 

“I do not wish your help!” Arian said, striding into the room. When he followed, she spun around and faced him. “Will you force yourself on me, then?”

 

He stopped at her words, his brows drawing together in a dark scowl.

“ ’Tis your way Stefan. If you cannot have what you seek with compliance, you take it. Always you take for your own end! When will you see that you cannot force the world to bow at your feet?”

“I did not force your love. You gave it freely.”

 

“You kidnapped me!”

 

“Aye, and I would do it again. In the end we both benefited.”

 

“You slew my husband!”

 

“He challenged me! He was a traitor to my king and his own people! You would have been a widow regardless.”

 

“You gave me your oath, Stefan. You swore to me you would accept my marriage and not look back.”

His anger mounted on his face. He stepped closer to her, and she could see he fought to keep his hands from her, not to harm but to conquer. “When I gave my oath I did not know the depths of Magnus’s treachery. ’Twas only after we were together that William sent word of his treason. His missive to Sven confirms it.”

Stefan waved Jane from the chamber. When the door closed behind her, he threw the bolt and turned to Arian. “Will you force yourself upon me now?” she threw at him.

“Nay, I will not touch you again unless you ask for it. But understand this, wife. I am your husband, I am lord and master here, and you will stand beside me until God strikes one of us dead.”

“I will not share this chamber with you!”

“You will.” With those his last words, Stefan stormed from the chamber. It was late when she heard the chamber door open, then close. Arian feigned sleep. Moments later, the bed creaked, heavy with her husband’s weight. She felt his eyes upon

her back.

He moved closer to her. She could feel his body heat radiate toward her. The night was warm, and she slept in only a thin linen shift, the covers pulled down to her feet. Despite the warmth of the air and the man beside her, she shivered.

“Why do you deny me, Arian?” he asked. The quiet anguish in his voice drew a small gasp from her. A sudden wave of emotion crashed through her. Slowly, she turned over to face him. His blue eyes burned bright in the low candlelight. The flickering of the flame cast odd shadows across his handsome scarred face. ’Twas the noble face of a noble man who had to fight for everything in his life.

“The guilt eats at me, Stefan.”

 

“You must let it go, Arian. There is more to Magnus’s plots than you know, and you, my love, were caught up in the middle of it all.”

 

“What do you mean?”

Stefan rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. “Your meeting was no accident. He and Sven of Denmark have been plotting since Hardrada died not far from here almost a year ago. He traveled to Dublin, knowing your sire would be in attendance as well. Your father is rich and respected by the Welsh kings. What better way to ingratiate oneself than marry a Welsh princess and have her great family of the west as ally? Do you remember Dag’s last words before he died?” Arian’s heart began to beat faster in her chest. She thought back to that gruesome day, and though she tried, she could not remember. “He said, ‘the stag runs north.’ He meant that Magnus runs north to that cur Sven. He knew what his uncle was about.”

Stefan rolled over to face her, and as his words sank in, she began to understand. “Did he think the Welsh would back his plan to invade England?”

“The northern kings did, as did Rhiwallon and Bleddyn. ’Twas the only reason they agreed to the hostage trade. Without your marriage to Magnus, all would be forfeit. They had no choice.”

“But they still hold Lady Tarian and your brother Thorin.”

 

“Aye, but Wulfson and Rhod ride with news only of your marriage, not of Magnus’s death. By the time they learn the truth, it will be too late.”

 

“And what of you, Stefan? A man who wanted no wife. Now you are married to a princess. Will you use my father to your gain?”

 

“Arian, I married you because I love you. No other reason.”

 

“You forced me to marry you! Do I not have a say in my life?”

 

“Your life is with me. You will see in time ’tis for the best.”

 

“Nay, Stefan, you do not understand. You say you love me, but you slew my husband after you gave your oath you would not! Then you force my hand. ’Tis not love!”

 

“I would give you my life,” he said hotly.

 

She grasped his hands. “Give me mine.”

 

“Your life?”

 

“If you love me, let me go,” she whispered.

 

“Let you go?” he asked, stunned.

 

“Aye, allow me to return home.” As she said the words, her heart cracked.

 

For a long moment, Stefan stared at her. His eyes brightened almost as if tears glittered there, but she knew that that was nonsense.

 

“You are my wife!”

 

“Only because you forced me! I would have never willingly married you!”

 

“Is marriage to me so repulsive?”

 

She shook her head, nay, ’twas not how she meant it. She loved him.

 

“Because I am a bastard?

 

“Nay, for if you do not set me free I will never trust you,” she said softly.

 

Slowly he nodded, and rolled from the bed. She rose on her knees. “Where are you going?”

 

He drew on his braies, then his chauses. “To find a place to sleep.”

Stefan strode from the chamber, his mind a swirl of thoughts and emotions. He could not let her go! He would not!
She was his wife.
He strode back to the hall, which had fallen quiet. He found his men sitting at the lord’s table, huddled together deep in conversation.

Rorick stood and handed him a horn of ale. Morosely, he accepted it and sat down.

 

“What ails you?” Warner asked. Stefan looked over at his friend. “Other than these unruly Saxons? I have no clue to the workings of a woman.”

 

Rorick laughed and drank; Ioan rolled his eyes and also drank. Rohan slapped him on the back. “There is no greater mystery than what lurks in a woman’s head, brother.”

 

“She wishes to return to her father.”

 

The men went silent. Then Rohan spoke. “Will you allow it?”

 

Stefan shook his head. “She is my wife!” He threw back the horn and drained it. “I cannot bear to let her fly from me.”

 

Warner scratched his head. “I am confused, Stefan. I thought she felt for you as you felt for her.”

 

“She blames me for Magnus’s death.”

 

Ioan laughed, the sound harsh. “Had it not been you, ’twould have been one of us. He was a marked man from the beginning.”

 

“I tried to explain that to her, but she is angry at me for shaming her on her wedding night.” Stefan filled his horn again.

“Women have to know that they have made the decision for themselves, Stefan. She needs to come to you because ’tis what she wants, not what you have forced upon her,” Rohan said wisely.

“Aye, her words exactly.”

 

“Have you consummated your vows?” Rohan asked.

 

Slowly Stefan shook his head.

 

“Then give her what she wants, brother,” Ioan said.

 

“Annul the marriage, and release her completely,” Rohan agreed.

Stefan’s heart cracked in half at the notion. Pain so fierce that it caused him to catch his breath twisted in his chest. So much so, he caught his hands to his heart and pressed upon it to soothe the pain. But it did no good. His stomach pitched and swelled, and he thought he would vomit. He shook his head, denying what he knew was the right thing to do. If he forced her to stay, she would grow to hate him; at least now she still cared. But he knew Rohan spoke the truth. Stefan nodded, and stood on unsteady legs. He would do what he must do. And it would kill him.

TWENTY-THREE

Moments later, when he strode through the chamber door, he found Arian crying in the big bed. His heart broke more. “Arian,” he softly said, as he approached. She turned red eyes up to him. Her chemise hung open, her full breasts peeking out from beneath the fabric, glistening from her falling tears. He swallowed hard and focused instead on her face.

Carefully, lest he scare her, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He held out his hand to her; warily she looked at him as if he would bite her.

“Please, give me your hand.” Tentatively she placed her soft hand into his big callused one. He smiled, and love welled up for her. She was brave and she was beautiful, and she had been through hell with him from the first moment they set eyes upon each other. He loved her more at that moment with such passion and conviction it consumed him. And he owed her her freedom. She deserved it. She was a beautiful bird that if caged would wither and die.

He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I have been selfish, Arian. I have been brutish and I have thought of naught but myself all my life. I have made many mistakes along the way; many I cannot undo. And while you may think our meeting was a mistake because of where it has led us both, I could not disagree more. You have shown me, my love, that I am not dead inside. That I am capable of love. If I could take back any of my time spent with you, I would be selfish and say nay. But I can give you back your life by giving you your freedom.” He turned her hand over in his and kissed the palm of her hand. “I release you, Arian. You are free to return home. I will petition the Pope myself for an annulment. William will stand by it, as he has the Pope’s ear.”

She crumpled in the bed. Stefan gathered her up into his arms. “Arian, ’tis what you wanted. I give it, freely, but with a heavy heart.”

She choked back a sob and looked up into his eyes. Hers radiated pain and suffering, and beneath it he knew she still loved him. His heart pained him as well. “I am sorry for causing you shame. I am sorry for Magnus’s death, and I am sorry for forcing the marriage on you. I cannot take back Magnus nor the shame, but I can give you back your life.”

He kissed her forehead. “Ask anything else of me, Arian, and if it is in my power, I will give it to you.”

 

She went limp in his arms, her head rolling back against his shoulder. He could not resist kissing the trail of tears on her cheek. “Do not weep.”

 

Her eyes fluttered open. “Stefan, why does my heart feel as if it has been shattered into a thousand pieces? Why do I feel that this is wrong?”

 

“Wrong?”

 

“You and me, apart.”

“I know it is not right. We were meant to be, Arian, and though the road has been wrought with difficulty, I have never been so sure of anything in my life. You are the only woman I will ever love.”

“What if I am with child?”

The thought of her carrying his child twisted like a hot iron in his chest; he had not given the possibility any thought. Yet he would not force her to stay because of a child. But he could not ignore a babe, either.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Arian, tell me now, what do you want?”

 

“Stefan,” she moaned, “I want you to hold me, and to tell me all will be right with our world. I cannot bear to live like this.”

He kissed her damp lips. When she did not push him away but opened her lips to accept him, fire enflamed his body. He wanted her so desperately he could barely control himself. But he would not lead; he would follow.

“One more night together, Stefan,” she whispered against his lips. “One more night.” She pressed him back into the pillows. Deftly she unbelted his sword belt and pushed it aside, then raised his tunic over his head, then his chemise. When she tugged at his braies’ strings, he grabbed her hands.

“Once these are off, I am not leaving this bed until morn.”

She smiled a slow sad smile, and pushed her heavy hair behind her shoulders. “I would be most disappointed if you did.” When she pushed down his braies and chauses he caught his breath. His cock was already full and had lengthened to capacity. She pressed her lips to his, entwining her fingers in his, pushing his arms over his head. “You are my captive tonight, milord,” she breathed against his lips. Stefan’s muscles tensed, his skin smoldered, and blood ran hot in his veins.

“I am yours, milady, to do with what you will.”

Arian laughed, nibbling his lips then his chin. Her kisses trailed down his throat to the sword scar. Her fingers unlocked from his. Her warm hands trailed down his arms. His muscles bunched beneath her fingertips. She flicked his nipple with her tongue, then suckled it as he had done to her. He strained beneath her, but did not reach out and touch her. Her fingers kneaded his chest, trailing lower to his belly, followed by her singeing lips; he hung on by a thread. She pressed her hands to his hips, leaning over him, her full breasts teasing his raised cock.

“Arian,” he moaned. “Shhh.” When she took him into her hands and slowly moved them up and down his shaft, his hips came off the mattress. When she pressed her lips to the head of him, Stefan hissed in a harsh breath. His fingers dug into the sheets, twisting them in his fists. He was on the verge of losing all control. He grabbed the carved headboard for leverage, knowing if his hands were free he would touch her. He looked down at her and nearly came at that instant. Her long hair hung down around her shoulders in a gold and crimson shroud, but ’twas her lips upon him and her small hands wrapped around his thickness that set him off. She was in so many ways innocent, yet she had experienced so much in the last month. Stefan arched into her, throwing his head back, closing his eyes, and let her take him away. At

least for this night he would forget about tomorrow.

Hunger coiled low in his belly, desire and need so excruciating that he had to force himself to breathe. When she broke from him, he caught his breath and looked down at her. She smiled shyly, and, on all fours, she crawled up his body, dragging her moist nether lips across his cock when she did. He raised against her, the head of him pressing into her warm wetness. She rose slightly, denying him entry. “Arian,” he hoarsely groaned. “I cannot take much more.”

“But you must, milord, I am not done with you.”

Slowly she sat back upon him. Stefan’s body froze, afraid if he moved he would grab her to him and sink into her, never letting her go. He watched her face as she slowly mounted him, her features changing from tentative to accepting; then, when he thrust up into her, sublime pleasure. She closed her eyes and softly exhaled. When she opened them, he caught his breath. Her silver eyes were so dark he would swear they were black. Her cheeks flushed pink in the candlelight, her full lips parted as she too caught her breath.