Mathis, Jolie (16 page)

But she did not know how. "Please."

With gentle pressure, he bunched her kirtle over her thighs. Her stomach fluttered as his hand smoothed downward across its delicate skin to press against her pelvic bone. There, he slipped slowly, deliberately between her legs.

Her legs tensed. Her toes pointed. She moaned. His touch bespoke a confidence with the female body. Certainly there had been others, Isabel realized. A dark stab of possessiveness tore through her. But she felt his hand tremble as he touched her. In some way she affected him. Perhaps as deeply as he affected her.

Strong fingers grazed against a most sensitive place. A jolt of pleasure shot through her when, with his thumb, he coaxed apart her folds.

"I need to be inside you."

"Aye," she whispered. "Anon."

Through his teeth he hissed a breath. "I don't want to frighten you."

"I'm not afraid." She spoke the truth. "I have no memories. Only the images created by my mind. I want you to be the one to replace them."

The cave whirled as he laid her upon her back. His darkness and weight settled over her.

"Are you cold?" he murmured, his face flushed and beautiful. "I don't want you to be cold."

"No. Not cold."

The musty scent of the furs swirled between them, but provided warmth beneath her buttocks. Her hands collided with his in their quest to free him from his braies.

Darkness shadowed their bodies. She looked, but could not see that part of him which demanded her curiosity. She grasped his shoulders. Between her parted thighs, he descended, wrapping an arm about her. With his other hand he took hold of himself.

Arcing his body over her, he slid his shaft between her legs. She felt swollen there, and excruciatingly sensitive.

Torture. Beautiful, perfect torture.

His hand moved between them. Separated her. She felt a gentle, pressure. His long fingers. He pushed inside. Unable to contain her reaction, she moved against his hand, clenched her thighs. Her moan echoed off the stone walls of the cavern. Such intense, exquisite friction. But somehow lacking.

"Please—" She buried her face against his chest, ashamed by the consuming power of her need. Slowly he withdrew. Between his thumb and fingertip he squeezed a part of her. A tender, hidden pearl—

"Kol!" Stars burst, blinding her with their light. She arched, and at that same moment, felt his thighs brace her, spread her.

"Look," he rasped. "And see how beautiful it can be between a man and a woman."

She did look. Down, betwixt their bodies, light flickered and revealed his member, a thick mast poised above her parted thighs. She saw her own expectant flesh. Her damp, dark curls.

With his hand he grasped, and guided himself. Isabel stared between her mounded breasts, over her bunched tunic. The sight transfixed her. His swollen tip breached her, then disappeared. There came a pressure. She dug her nails into his skin. Around his waist she clenched her thighs.

He groaned. Inch by inch, he pushed more deeply until he was buried inside her, his body pressed flush against her.

She gasped. Sharply he withdrew, almost his whole length. "Do you see?"

She cried out, gripping his sides, feeling the flex of his muscles. For a scant moment she stared into his burning eyes. Then she looked between them again, at their joining. "Aye."

He thrust into her. The surge of pleasure shocked her, stunned her.

He lowered to suckle her breast. When he drove into her, she cried out, nearly screamed. The bed creaked beneath them. Voices—theirs—echoed off the cavern walls. He grasped her ankles and hooked her legs over the side of the narrow bed, spreading her.

Instinct guided Isabel. She lifted her hips, her thrusts matching his. Their mutual fervor grew. Despite the cold air, perspiration glowed on their skin. Isabel could not close her eyes, could not look away. Furs slid down his powerful back, and firelight revealed the shadowy flex of his abdomen, his hips. How beautiful he was. She felt beautiful as well. Her breasts jostled with each thrust. Her nipples glistened with the moisture of his mouth. And lower. She watched the shadowy slide of his sex deep into her. The sight amazed, intrigued her.

Inside her womb, the pleasure grew, surged outward through her limbs. She sought something more.

"Aye, Isabel. Now." His own movement, his thrusts, heightened in pace.

The night burst into a shattering arc of purple and diamonds and fire. Shimmering. Brilliant. Surreal.

Hurtled through the Heavens, eternity parted and granted her a glimpse of her own immortality, spiraling, swirling upward, but entwined with that of another.

Beautiful. So beautiful she cried out when, in a bright flash she spun downward, back to earth, into the arms of the flesh and blood being who clutched her just as tightly, still pulsing inside her, around her, through her.

Kol held Isabel tightly, too tightly. Afraid she would disappear. He pressed his face into her neck, afraid she would see how badly he needed her. Until now, even he had not known how profound that need would be.

For him, the knowledge he could not beget children had transformed the act of sex into strictly a carnal exorcism of his rage. But what had just occurred between himself and Isabel had seared him deep, to his very soul.

He should have told her. Told her everything.
But now—now it was too late.

Chapter 15

Morning's light intruded across the stony threshold of the cavern. Kol took up a twig and prodded the remains of the fire. That which had blazed with flame the night before had cooled to ash with morning's arrival. He discarded the stick and stood.

"We must go." He took up his braies and drew them on, hitching them over his hips. "Else they will come looking."

"Aye." From their bed of furs, Isabel watched him without shame, and with a confidence he did not share. She stretched with feline languor.

In the night she had touched every part of him. Learned and fulfilled his desires as no woman ever had. Even now, as she simply lay her gaze on him, the swirling sensation began low in his belly.

He tugged on one boot, then the other. He deserved Hell for what he had allowed to take place between them—and for the pain he would inflict upon her now. Into the early morning he had lain awake, with her sleeping in his arms.

No matter how strongly he wanted it, their joy could not last. His plan was in motion, and he could do naught to change it. When she learned of it, she would hate him even more than she had before. He touched the bump on his head. Could he blame his utter stupidity on the injury?

They had made love under false pretense. She believed him to have a heart, buried somewhere deep inside his scarred body. For a few hours, he had convinced himself of that lie as well. Yet his desperate hope had been an illusion of the night. An illusion that had disintegrated with the first pale touch of morning.

Anger warred with the longing in his chest. Covetously, he watched Isabel bind her stockings, just above her knees. The hardship of the previous days would leave most women smudged and ragged. Isabel's cheeks flushed with springlike radiance. Her hair gleamed like Eastern silk. If only she could be his.

From beneath the dense protection of her lashes, she looked up and offered a shy smile. She sought his reassurance. 'Twas a shame, he could not give it to her. Bending low, he placed her gunna on the cot beside her, and with it, lay his first blow. His voice as cool as the air about them, he said, "I shall await you outside."

Her smile became—not a smile at all. He turned before she might perceive his regret.

Outside, he knelt upon the snowy earth to examine Morke's fittings. He had only himself to blame for the torment he felt. He'd let her inside his walls. Walls which protected him from the most dangerous of his enemies: hope.

He heard her soft step upon the stone behind him. "'Twould be safer to make the descent on foot. If the animal slipped on the ice—"

"Of course," she agreed in a quiet voice.

He nodded brusquely. "Good."

With a tug of Morke's reins, he set off across the narrow plateau. Her footsteps followed behind, light and quick. 'Twas not long before she placed herself beside him.

"Wilst you send a message to Ranulf once we arrive in Calldarington?"

The mention of Ranulf's name awakened the savage part of him.

"'Twould be difficult when I do not know Ranulf's whereabouts." He stared straight ahead. A sardonic edge whetted his voice. "Perhaps thou dost know?"

Beside him, Isabel stumbled over a low spot in the path. He fought the urge to catch and steady her.

"You know I do not." From beneath the dark fall of her cloak, her slender white hand appeared. She swiped a dark tendril of hair from where it pestered her cheek. "I merely wondered if a messenger would be sent to find him. Perhaps a Norsexian warrior. Someone he trusted."

The hope in her voice sickened him. They had made love, and now, as a result, she fully expected to negotiate a peace between the two men in her life. Simple as that.

He stopped. Behind him, Morke had halted without so much as a command. "And what message would you have me send?"

Wind caught his hair, and blew it back from his face. Isabel turned to him slowly, her face white with realization.

"You still intend to kill him."

She stared. Waited. Kol maintained his passionless guise. Though her misery tore him apart, he could offer her no comfort now.

"Kol!" she cried, then pressed her hands against her lips. She seemed to summon whatever calm she could, before lowering her arms, again, to her sides. "The conflict betwixt the two of you was founded upon a misunderstanding. You realize that now."

The heat of Kol's agitation boiled over. Her words, in effect, negated all he had told her of her father's request for his military alliance. 'Twas as if she outright accused him of lying.

"I have already told you Ranulf's hatred for me doth not exist solely out of concern for you."

"What else is there?" she demanded. Kol responded with silence.

"Kol, answer me. What else is there? Do not look at me thusly, as if we are strangers. From the first night, you have hinted at villainy in Ranulf which exceeds the punishment he bore upon you in the pit. Yet you have never presented any justification for your accusations."

Kol did, indeed, feel like a stranger, looking at her, and clenching the reins to his horse.

Her short laugh cut him like a blade. "I see. Already you deny me. And so quickly."

Kol spoke what he knew to be the truth. Even if she did not realize it yet.
"Nei.
'Tis you who will deny me."

He walked away, toward Calldarington.

She shouted at him, "Why would you say that?"

He turned, crushing the shallow crust of snow beneath his heel. "Are you prepared to turn your back on Ranulf?"

"Why would I?" She lifted her hands, imploringly, and stepped toward him. His heart reacted so strongly to her nearness, he had to take several steps back to bolster himself against her pleading eyes and earnest tongue.

Still, she spoke. "Aye, Ranulf's torture of you was wrong. You were innocent. But he punished you because he believed I had been attacked. That is all. There is no more to the story, no intrigue or secret motives."

Kol shook his head. "Your father summoned me, and it was to thwart a threat from within his household. That threat was Ranulf."

"It could not be."

Hostility soured his tone. "That you continue to hold him in such vaulted esteem infuriates me.
Would that you knew the Ranulf I have known."

"I cannot believe the Ranulf you conjure even exists. You demonize him to further your conquest." Isabel brushed past him, her eyes trained upon the path they would take.

Kol spat, "You know, he watches you."

Isabel froze. Instantly, an invisible burden seemed to weight her shoulders. Clearly, he had struck some chord within her. "What did you say?" she rasped.

He felt both strengthened and ashamed by the words he continued to speak. He wielded them to hurt her. "Through a hole, in your chamber wall."

Kol shifted his stance, and traded the reins to his other hand, yet he kept his eyes fixed on her, perversely eager for her reaction. In a low voice, he repeated, "He watches you."

Isabel's face lost all emotion.

An uneasy chill scored Kol's spine. He dropped Morke's reins, and tilted his head to stare into her face. Sick at heart, he uttered, "You show no surprise."

Isabel's lips parted, yet no words came forth.

He accused, "You show only shame when confronted with this revelation?"

Isabel could barely catch her breath. She could not speak of this with Kol. Not with
anyone.
Fingers trembling, she pressed the sleeve of her cloak to her mouth.

Kol lunged and grasped her shoulders. "What is there between you and Ranulf? God, Isabel, confess the truth now."

She barely felt the strength of his hold on her. The shock of his words numbed her too greatly. She stared into his eyes, horrified by the disgust she read therein.

All at once he released her, and backed away. Cold and heat washed over her in alternating waves. She could not bear to have him believe something so foul as an incestuous relationship between sister and brother.

"Ranulf is not my brother."

Kol's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"Ranulf and I share no blood." Isabel clasped her eyes shut. She betrayed Ranulf by speaking the secret aloud, a weight which crashed down like a huge boulder upon her chest.

"Tell me everything." He stepped back, as if distancing himself from not only her, but any emotion he felt toward her. The snow on the ground reflected in his eyes, making them the color of a frozen sea.

Isabel felt feverish. She smoothed cool hands over her cheeks. Somehow the words came.

"When Ranulf's mother came to my father in marriage, she already carried another man's child. 'Twas a secret she held until the day of my half sister, Rowena's, fateful birth. The queen confessed everything to my father before she died."

Kol's features remained hewn of stone. He did not take one step toward her, nor away. Behind him, Calldarington perched on its promontory ledge, distant and uncaring. "Continue."

She took one low, bracing breath. "Ranulf himself did not know of this until he grew to be a young man." She walked toward a nearby tree and leaned against it for support. "One day while hunting, he lost control of our father's favored stallion, and ran it into a narrow ditch. The animal's forelegs were broken. As Father slit the suffering beast's throat, he spoke in anger, and revealed to Ranulf he was no legitimate son."

Kol drew in a low breath, his eyes assessing. "But by all accounts, your father, and even the Witan of Norsex, held Ranulf in high esteem and as duly named heir."

She shrugged. "To my knowledge, the matter was never spoken of again, and remained a secret held between Ranulf and Aldrith. I do not believe my father ever knew Ranulf had revealed the truth to me. Any paternal affection aside, my father sired no more sons. No more male heirs.

'Twas essential Ranulf's claim to the throne remain unquestioned. For all our sakes, even my father's."

Kol's fingers curled against his palms. He shook his head, as if to clear his mind of her words. "That does not make it allowable for him to spy on you through a hole in the wall, with lust in his heart. In the eyes of the Christian church, he is your brother."

Isabel bristled. "I know of no peephole. The door—it has always been there, from the time the upper hall was built by my father. Ranulf has never made use of it. I cannot believe he would be guilty of such a transgression as watching me without my knowledge, yet—"

"Yet what?"

"I confess, as I grew to womanhood, I sensed—" Isabel flinched inwardly, knowing once she said the words, she could never take them back. Still, in some way she felt relieved to say them. She'd had no one to confide in. "I sensed Ranulf's interest. I suppose, I told myself he was simply lonely. You see, long ago 'twas decided Ranulf would not marry. My father survived attempts by the families of both his first wife, and his second wife, my mother, to wrest his throne from him. Ranulf made clear, from the outset of his rule, he would extend no claim to rivals through marriage. Since then, to my knowledge, he hath remained devout, and devoted to his celibacy. If he has taken lovers, I never knew of them."

Kol strode forward to grasp her chin, roughly, forcing her gaze up into his. "Tell me the truth, Isabel, for I will have no more lies between us."

Isabel trembled beneath the onslaught of his continued accusation, one which sickened her, "He never touched me. Never. I would not be able to live with that."

"Why can you not confess it? It becomes all too clear." Kol released her, his eyes agleam with feral heat. "He is the father of your child."

Isabel's stomach turned. "Your accusations disgust me.

Do you believe if that were the truth, I could abide living alongside him in Calldarington? Nay, Ranulf is not the missing piece to my unfortunate puzzle. He would not have committed such a sin against me." She pressed the flat of her palm to her chest, where her heart beat at a troubled pace. "In my heart, I know this to be true."

Kol clenched his hands into fists. "You continue to defend him, knowing his lust for you."

This time, 'twas Isabel who gripped his arm. "His lust for me, if it ever reached such a proportion, was confined to his heart. I swear it. He has been nothing but a brother and king to me, and a protector to my son."

"I cannot fathom this," Kol muttered, pulling away. He strode toward the ledge overlooking Calldarington.

She lifted her hands. "What would you have me do, Kol? I am a princess of this realm who bore a fatherless child, a son with no future but that which his king deems to bestow upon him."

Kol remained silent, his back to her.

"What do you think I should have done? Upon sensing Ranulf's interest—for remember this, he never revealed any desire for me through word or deed, 'twas only a suspicion of mine. A feeling. Should I have taken my son into the forest to live in exile for the rest of our days, eating roots and berries for sustenance?" Her arms fell to her side. "That only happens in children's tales."

He caught up Morke's reins from the ground, and leveled his hard gaze upon her. "I will ask you only once more. Are you willing to turn your back on him?"

"He is not the evil you avow." She pled, "Do not force this choice upon me."

"Are you willing?"

She whispered, "I am not."

Without another word, he moved to descend the ledge. She called out to him, trailing along behind, "Do you not understand my position in all this? Do you not understand I have trusted you with a secret that could undermine Ranulf's claim to the Norsexian throne?"

Kol held up a hand, but did not slow his steps. "'Tis clear no reasonable discourse will come from this."

In a fit of temper, Isabel kicked her boot into the crusted snow, and sent a clump flying. "Reasonable discourse cannot come from amidst unreasonable accusations."

The remainder of their descent was made in silence. The closer they grew to the burh, the greater Isabel's anxiety grew. Now she had not the loyalty and love of her people, nor of Kol. She had not even her son to return to. And worst of all, she had betrayed the confidence of the man who, despite the underlying tension between them, borne of an unspoken attraction, had never behaved as anything but a brother.