Stolen Splendor (35 page)

He walked slowly toward her, his eyes capturing her
own, holding them in thrall. He reached out for her, their hands entwining, and
drew her against him, his breath catching in his throat as her hardened nipples
grazed his chest. But he held himself back, gazing down into her face,
searching. Only a few moments ago she had shied away from him, confused,
uncertain. He had to be sure she wanted him as much as he wanted her . . .

Sensing his inner turmoil, Kassandra lowered her head
and trailed a line of kisses across his chest to just
left
of his breastbone, where she pressed her lips fervently to the beating of his
heart. "Love me, Stefan," she
murmured,
her
breath hot against his skin. "Love me . . ."

He groaned, her words unleashing within him an
explosion of raging desire. In one fluid motion he lifted her in his arms and
laid her upon the bed, the pale cream of her body in striking contrast to the
glistening furs beneath her.

Kassandra rolled languidly onto her side, watching with
intense fascination as Stefan stripped off his breeches. Emboldened by her
love, she traced her finger along the dark swath of hair trailing down his taut
belly, past sleek, narrow hips, to end in a mass of black curls between sinewed
thighs. His erect manhood seemed to leap against her hand and she gasped in
surprise, falling back onto the furs.

Stefan chuckled lustily, gathering her into his arms as
he lay down beside her. "I warn you, my lady," he whispered in her
ear. "To touch a man so can only bring about the
most
dire
consequences." He gently bit her earlobe, as if to emphasize
his words, then it was he who gasped when Kassandra's hand tentatively touched
his pulsating hardness once again.

Her fingers wrapped around him, unsure at first, but
growing
more bold
as she slowly caressed him, reveling
in the silken feel of his skin, the satin smoothness, the crispness of the
curls nestled there. He moaned against her ear, his breaths panting, ragged,
and she marveled that she could pleasure him so. She began to stroke him
faster, innately sensing that she could please him still further, only to start
when he suddenly drew her hand away.

"Enough, my love," he whispered hoarsely,
pushing her back down upon the furs. He knelt above her, his muscled thighs
straddling her hips, his throbbing shaft pressed against the silken mound
between her legs. His flint-gray eyes, inflamed with passion, seared into her
own. "Now it is my turn."

He bent over her, supporting his powerful weight with
his hands, and tenderly kissed her forehead, her eyelids,
his
lips brushing against her gold-tipped lashes. His kiss became possessive when
he sought her lips, demanding, drawing the breath from her body as his tongue
savored the recesses of her mouth, tasting its sweetness, lingering there. When
Kassandra's arms instinctively wound about his neck, returning his impassioned
kiss, he forced them down above her head, gripping her wrists gently with one
hand while his other hand stroked her breast.

Kassandra sharply inhaled as his nails lightly raked
across her hardened nipple, until she thought she might scream from the delicious
sensations pouring through her body. Each time she arched her back, her hips
moved beneath him, stoking a fire deep within her belly as the tip of his
hardness pressed urgently against the aching bud of her desire.

Suddenly Stefan released her wrists and shifted his
weight, pushing her long legs apart and kneeling between them. His hands were
everywhere, caressing, teasing, his mouth, hot, insistent, capturing first one
rose-tipped crest, then the other, while his fingers explored the silken cleft
of her womanhood, entwining in russet curls. He knew she was ready, but he
wanted to push her still further to the brink of ecstasy. He bent down and
cupped her buttocks, his tongue delving into her where his fingers had been
only a moment before.

There was
a wildness
to his
movements, an urgent intensity, matched only by Kassandra's driving need. She
writhed against him, trembling, calling his name, pleading for him to stop,
pleading for him to linger, pleading for what she knew was to come.

Then Stefan was above her, knowing she could wait no
longer, knowing he could wait no longer to possess her. As he plunged into her,
she cried out her pleasure, tears of rapture stinging her eyes, her jagged
breaths melding with his own. She felt storm-tossed, buffeted, adrift in a
raging sea of delirious sensation, then she was hovering above it for a
blinding instant, hovering . . . until she dove back down into the boiling sea,
wave after wave of furious ecstasy crashing in upon her, crashing in upon
Stefan, drowning them in all-encompassing delight.

Chapter 33

It was Stefan who first opened his eyes, blinking
against the dappled sunlight playing across the wide bed. He rose up on his
elbow and glanced out the window. The sun was settling into the trees, its
bright rays winking through the leafy branches.

It must be three, or perhaps four o'clock, he thought,
somewhat dazed. He was not used to sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. The
flames had died in the fireplace; nothing was left of the logs but glowing
embers that hissed faintly, the only other sound in the lodge the steady rhythm
of Kassandra's breathing.

Smiling, he gazed down at her, nestled against his
chest. She was so touchingly beautiful . . . He wrapped his arm about her protectively,
a sense of overwhelming fulfillment settling over him. He had never known such
happiness, such peace. He could hardly wait to share his joy, their joy, with
Isabel and Lord Harrington.

Stefan bent his head and touched his lips to her cheek,
stroking the silken softness of her hair. "Kassandra, it's time to
wake," he whispered.

She merely sighed, snuggling closer, lost to sleep. He
suppressed a laugh and tried again, this time gently shaking her shoulder.
"Awake, my love."

Kassandra's eyelids slowly flickered open, a contented
smile lighting her features. "Hmmm . . ." she murmured, stretching
languorously, the crisp curls on his chest tickling her nose. She inhaled,
breathing in his warm, male scent.

Stefan groaned, the pressure of her lithe body against
him rekindling his desire. He would never get enough of her! This afternoon was
proof of that. They had loved until breathless exhaustion had overtaken them,
and even now he could think of nothing better than spending another delightful
hour in bed. But he forced his mind to the stir that was probably brewing at
the mansion over their long absence. He didn't think Karl could stand the shock
of finding them like this again. It was time they made their way back.

"Kassandra, the afternoon has fled," he
began. "Your father is no doubt wondering—"

"Father!" Kassandra exclaimed, her eyes
widening. She sat up beside him, oblivious of her nakedness. "Oh, Stefan,
we should return at once. I hope they haven't sent anyone out looking for
us."

"My thoughts exactly," he replied, tracing
his finger down her arm, his eyes feasting upon the tempting silhouette of her
breasts.

Kassandra shivered at his touch, playfully pushing his
hand away. "Stefan . . ."

"I know, I know," he said reluctantly.
Suddenly he forced her back down upon the mattress and rolled on top of her,
supporting his weight on his elbows. He grinned rakishly, entwining his fingers
in her fire-gold hair. "But when we are married, my lady, you will not so
easily escape my bed."

"I shall hold you to your threat, my lord,"
Kassandra answered with a lusty gleam in her eye that both astounded and
delighted him. Chuckling, Stefan bent his head and kissed her soundly, then
rolled away from her to the edge of the bed and swung his long legs to the floor.
He stood up, offering her his hand.

"Let us not delay our wedding any further, my
lady," he said. "There is the small matter of your father's consent I
must address as soon as we get back."

Kassandra blushed hotly, taking his hand. He drew her
from the bed and into his arms, embracing her fiercely. "Do you think I
have a chance?" he queried lightly, though his expression was serious.

Kassandra pulled away, her gaze meeting his. "My
father wishes only for my happiness," she murmured. "He will see that
I have found it with you, Stefan."

As if to seal her words, she stood on tiptoe and
touched her lips to his in the sweetest kiss he had ever known. It was
timeless, lingering, until at last she drew away, smiling up at him. "Then
I have nothing to fear," he whispered almost to himself.

Kassandra shook her head with certainty. "Nothing,
my lord."

Stefan released her, his broad smile returning to his
face as he swept up his breeches from the floor. He put them on, eyeing her
roguishly. She was watching him, her gaze one of bold admiration. "Perhaps
you might dress, Kassandra, unless you would prefer to ride as you are,"
he teased. He appraised her heatedly. "Although I, for one, would not mind
in the least."

Kassandra blushed anew and scurried over to the chair
where she had hung her clothes, her fingers trembling as she snatched up her
chemise. She drew it on, aware that he was watching her, and reveling in that
knowledge. She dressed hurriedly, though, and was almost ready when he spoke
again.

"I'll saddle the horses while you finish," he
said, walking up behind her. He nuzzled her neck, his breath
a
stirring
warmth against her nape, and draped his blue cloak about her
shoulders. "Wrap yourself in this, my love. I'll not have you catching a
chill on the ride home." Then he was gone from her, striding across the
planked floor, the door opening and closing behind him.

Minutes later, Kassandra fumbled with the last buttons
on her riding coat, her back to the door as she bent and drew on her boots. She
heard it
creak
open, and she straightened, clutching
the cloak about her body. "That was quick, Stef—"

A thick cloth pressed roughly against her nose and
mouth cut off her words. Her eyes widened in fright, her fingers clawing at the
gloved hand that held it, a cloyingly sweet odor swamping her senses. Her
vision dimmed and she felt as if she was choking. Then there was only blackness
as she
slumped
unconscious to the floor.

That was the easy part, Frederick thought grimly,
pocketing the cloth. He wasted no time as he knelt and lifted her in his arms,
hoisting her over his shoulder. He knew he had only minutes before Stefan would
return with the horses.

He strode quickly to the door, peering out toward the
stable, located some distance away, but thankfully there was no sign of him.
With his heart thundering in his chest, Frederick took off at a run to the back
of the lodge, where he plunged along the trail leading to the river. He had
left his horse tethered there, just in case the opportunity he had been
awaiting all afternoon should present itself.

Frederick's mind raced, his chest heaving from exertion
as he half ran, half walked along the path. It had been too perfect, he
marveled, especially after he had missed two excellent chances earlier that
day. When Kassandra had gone for her morning ride, he had not counted on her
masterful ability with horses, and he had been hard-pressed to overtake her,
let alone keep up with her.

When she had arrived at the lodge, he should have
grabbed her before she found Stefan. But their rendezvous at the river had
given him the idea for her accidental demise, if he could only abduct her. He
had kept himself hidden just outside the lodge for the past few hours, waiting,
listening,
hoping
desperately for the slightest chance
he might catch Kassandra alone, even for a few moments. His silent prayer had
been answered when Stefan left the lodge for the stable. He had seized the
opportunity, and he had proved the victor!

At least so far, Frederick amended darkly. He was no
fool. Time was of the essence in this deadly game. He knew that as soon as
Stefan discovered she was missing, he would search everywhere, probably even to
the river.
Which was exactly what Frederick wanted . . .

He shifted Kassandra's weight on his shoulder, grateful
that she was so light. He could hear the roar of the rushing water just beyond
the wooded hill, and he increased his pace, almost sliding down the trail.
Nervous relief filled him as he reached the river, and he made his way quickly
to the grassy knoll where Stefan and Kassandra had shared their fleeting moment
of happiness, a touching scene that had been most entertaining.

Frederick dropped to his knees and laid Kassandra upon
the ground. He studied her for a moment, her beautiful features, her lush
breasts outlined beneath the riding coat.

Yes, it would truly be a pity to squander such
loveliness, he thought, cold cunning reflected in his gaze. It seemed fate had
intervened in his original intent to cast her into the river, where,
unconscious, she would quickly drown. While hiding outside the lodge, he had
thought of a much better plan to rid Archduchess Sophia of Lady Kassandra
Wyndham . . . forever. He could not suppress a laugh. He would not only save
his own neck, but reap a profit in gold as well!

From what he knew of her now, she was not only well
versed in lovemaking, but charming and witty as well. He remembered their
pleasant conversation at Prince Eugene's gala a few months ago, her graceful
skill at dancing and flirting, and her winsome smiles. He had almost given away
his true nature that night, thinking perhaps she might be enamored of him . . .

A sharp twinge of remorse stabbed at Frederick, but he
quickly stifled it. He had no time for regret,
nor
pity, not when his own life was at stake. At least he was allowing her to live.